Dealing With Absence » h. styles au

15ᵀᴴ CHAPTER

                                                   15ᵀᴴ CHAPTER               

                    “Falling in love is not a spur of the moment thing” 

Somewhere between 10 and 11a.m. they lose sight of Harry amongst the crowd of people around them. PJ keeps scribbling notes with shaky handwriting and intelligible words to whomever else it is but himself, his ears eager to catch every piece of information the guy ahead of them is giving.

It’s been nearly an hour of walking already, past dense, equal and confusing trees (Leesh is absolutely sure she’s been here at least twice. Maybe.), and now apparently, there’s more water to their right, a few colourful birds by the lakeside, leaning towards their image reflected on the surface.

This time, Patrick is doing all the work, sweating his hands around the pen despite the chill settling slowly. Elisha doesn’t bother much, is mostly half asleep still, her eyes open and ears capturing sounds albeit her brain doesn’t focus on translating them so she can learn something, too. Instead, her glance is brief over the wind rustling the leaves at the very top of the trees, nearly touching the sky; chooses to stare at the lake fixedly, an empty, far-flung and all-embracing accrued of dark water.

The birds seem to be the only eccentric colour on a mournful painting, beating even the visitors’ clothing, simply matching the weather they’re shrouded by.

When Harry comes back, he’s got his fingers loosely around the camera, as through these past three days has become usual, and his cheeks are coloured by a sheepish pink, his smile just as sheepish, the cold seeming to fit every one of his features. With his curls bouncing at the top of his head, much like the leaves bounce at the top of the trees, Leesh can’t help but think he was made for the cold, for the wind, for heavy coats and warm beanies, for thick gloves and steaming cups of tea. He belongs to thin sheets of white rather than flushed afternoons, probably.

She pushes the thought away as he falls into rhythm with her steps, the rest of the walk absent of their voices, focused on the guide’s only.

Lunch is a frenzy of people and time, flying by, barely there before it’s gone.

The three of them don’t give a chance for the sunset to arrive on the horizon before their things are all back to the boot, the camping area now housing way less tents than it did only a couple of hours ago.

They don’t wait to find out if there’s going to be dinner there, too. If it does happen, they are far on the road by the time it comes.

--

Elisha claims the backseat this time.

She steals Patrick’s jacket as soon as the heater is on, puts it over her shoulder as she bends her legs towards her stomach and lays her head over her clasped hands, fluttered eyelids facing the back of the seat.

The low rumble of the two voices at her back are enough to soothe her to sleep, careful chatting sticking to the last bits of her brain as the words they speak make no sense at all, nothing but noises.

The rest of it she won’t remember.

--

She wakes up to a hand on her shoulder and a distant voice calling her name, and, unfortunately, her first reaction is to turn around and hit said voice’s owner, still too caught up on the fragility of her own sleep to react any other way. Only enjoying the ability of self-defence, see.