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Harry's hands clench in his pockets as the priest goes on to say something about Jeff finding eternal life and happiness. The sky is cloudy and the air is humid. The crowd is split into two different kinds of people, he's realized. There are the people who are completely indulged in what Father Carlos is saying, and then there are people like him who are only here because Phyllis asked all of the tenants who live in the building to come to Jeff'e service. The latter of the two are the ones who keep getting distracted in the smallest things; the color of the sky or the leaves that keep falling from the trees. Some people are counting how many headstones make up the cemetery altogether. He knows he should focus more on supporting Phyllis during the funeral but he's too caught up in the feeling in his chest. His body is sizzling like his veins are carrying sparkling water instead of blood.
The priest begins a prayer and nearly everybody's heads lower respectfully except for a short woman. His eyes widen when he recognizes her. How could he not? Her hands are clasped around a bouquet of white flowers that have a black, silk bow holding them together. Her hair is shorter than it was when he last saw her. Valarie. Her eyes take in the scenery, staying stuck on the patch of dead grass under his feet. She picks her head up and he sees the moment of surprise in her face before it passes.
Everybody's heads lift and the crowd disperses. The priest pulls Phyllis aside for a private conversation, leaving everyone to awkwardly wait on the sidelines for her to become available. Harry keeps his gaze locked on the girl across from him, though.
Her back is turned away from him as she walks down toward one of the largest trees resting in front of the sunlight. He bites his tongue before following her, and just as he's about to say something to catch her attention, she trips over a piece of a broken headstone. She doesn't fall forward but he reaches out for her anyway, lacing his fingers around her bare arm before letting go when he feels a pulse of electricity run through his arm and go straight to his chest.
Valarie falls to the ground in the blink of an eye.
"Shit. Sorry, that was my fault." He bends over and hauls her back to her feet, hesitantly taking her by the hand. The shock doesn't come as much of a surprise the second time around but its effect is still heavy regardless.
"Thank you."
He withdraws his hand and glances down at his palm, frowning when he takes notice in the deep red staining his fingers. "Are you hurt?"
"It was the thorns," she explains sheepishly, keeping his gaze locked on hers. "I guess my grip was too tight."
Harry can't help but stare; she's one of the prettiest things he's ever seen. She's like five feet two inches and her eyes are somewhat familiar. A set of brown eyes though there's a little bit of green in the left one. He only sees it when the sunlight hits so he tries to goad her into walking out into the light by taking two steps to the right. He takes her hand in his and nearly drops it when the impact hits his chest again. It doesn't hurt, it's just overwhelming. "I remember you from the night he died. I want to apologize for shoving you so hard." He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand and then frowns at the small cuts on her palm. "Or at all, really. I'm not usually so aggressive, I was raised better than that. I was just already having a shitty-"
