shadow [h.s.]

s e v e n t h

so excited about the progress i'm making with this fanfic! thank you to everyone whose been reading and all, it means so much. also, a wonderful reader pointed out Harry and Sky both have to be in about their thirties in this story for the dates to correspond. so thanks so much @Ashling95!

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Leighton stood, mouth agape, as I pulled back from Harry abruptly. My cheeks burned- I had practically just been caught cheating; in another man's arms, and the worst part was that it wasn't even Harry's fault. It was mine; I had initiated the hug. I had started this whole mess.

Yet, as I drew away from Harry, I felt empty inside; like a piece or part of me that wasn't quite commited to living. And that scared me. Wasn't I in love with Leighton, not Harry?

Harry.

Leighton spat out the name like venom, approaching the curly hair and green eyes with such vigor I wondered if he would kill him. He stood over Harry- gloating- for a moment, and Harry's eyes locked into mine with such fear I felt like vomiting. In a perfect world, I would've torn Leighton away with my own hands, called after him. Pleaded with him to stop. But I did no such thing; I did or said nothing as Leighton drove his fist into Harry's gut time and time again.

I stood there, like the selfish brat I was, watching the man I was supposed to love hurt the man who had taught me what love was- all over the love each of us wanted. It was then- standing in a stuffy police department office on December 11th, 2015, that I realized: we accept the love we think we deserve.

Harry did not deserve this.

I found the strength to pull Leighton off Harry, found the resolve to shout in his face and tell him to leave. I couldn't think past this moment, couldn't see past the end of my tears because I had no freaking clue what to do or how to do it. I only knew, as I watched Leighton leave, that he was who I needed to be with. Leighton was safe, predictable. Leighton didn't have warning signs and paperwork and bright, flashing memories that haunted me like Harry had.

But I still went back to him.

Harry crouched; crumpled; on the chair, face twisted in pain. I moved closer and reached out to touch him, but he shirked away. I saw the fear, saw the indescribable sadness mixed with pain in his eyes. Every atom, every molecule of my being wanted me to console him, wanted to make it all okay. But I couldn't. This was Harry we were talking about. Not some random guy walking along the street. I couldn't let myself go like this; couldn't fall in love with someone I had only known for a few days. I knew Leighton; Leighton was predictable... Leighton was kind and understanding and familiar. I couldn't fall for Harry, could I?

So I walked away.

I can't tell you why I did. I can't sit down with you over a cup of coffee and a fuzzy blanket with Ed Sheeran filtering through the radio and explain to you why I walked away. I just can't. Because walking away was all I'd ever known, all I'd ever done. All my life, I run away. I walk away. And, usually, I ran with my tail between my legs to Leighton.

Through the rain I ran, in my little black Nexus with tears streaming down my face, but I was still smiling. I still smiled and sang along to Chocolate by The 1975, because, I could, right? I was okay. I wasn't regretting anything. I loved Leighton, he loved me. All I had to do is apologize, right? And Harry wasn't anything to me.

Then why did I feel so empty?

I found myself knocking on Leighton's door, wiping the tears and murky mascara from my face. The funny thing is, I wasn't crying over Leighton. As much as I hated to admit it, I was crying over Harry; I was crying because I could never love him the way I loved Leighton. I was crying because I didn't know why I felt the way I did. But a small part of me understood that what Leighton and I had was sensible. Practical.