Walk Away h.s punk/au

4.

Katherine's P.O.V.

Seeing Harry with Barbara melted the thin layer of ice around my heart. He was so gentle with her, helping her get something out of reach, cleaning, and being an amicable person. He caught me gaze several times and offered a confused smile. A genuine smile, the dimply one. The happy one.

We left the bakery early promising to return, and stocked with lunch. Harry opened the door for me with his hip holding it steady. Everything about him was exposed while he was there, but the minute we left, he covered up. He pulled  his sunglasses out from his shirt and pushed them high on top the bridge of his crooked nose. Shaking his head, his hairs curls fell down in front of his face covering his eyes. My comment slipped out without registering with my mind,

"Don't, you look better the other way." I caught my hand in time though. I stopped myself from allowing my fingertips the pleasure that was most likely the coils of his hair.

"I don't think so." he said sharply.

It took a second for me to recover from the snap, but I did. "See this is your-oh thank you- problem." I said getting into his car, him holding his car door open.

Amused, he started it up. "What exactly is that?"

"You're afraid to let people see your eyes." I said casually trying to find them in the mess of curls.

The only things that could fall from his lips were inarticulate beginnings of swear phrases. He shook his head staring at me several times. Gasping, he jabbed the radio knob with his large ringed finger. Soft alternative music played filling the silence of the car ride. Hoping out of his car, I waited for Harry to join me.

Falling in stride we walked into the building five minutes remaining before our next class. The halls were crowded, people pushing and yelling at each other about things of no importance. Harry bumped into me as a jock bumped into him. "Sorry." he apologized while steading me.

His hands-which I'd noticed were humanly impossible-were soft as they grabbed my elbow. He pulled me into his side, closer to his ribcage. It felt oddly safe there. The curve of his arm rested against my shoulder blade.

He steered me to our next class, pulling me to the back. He sat beside me at his desk. He shook his head again, letting his curls fall. His hands ran through the curls, pushing them down further.

"I'm right," I sang enjoying the way his brows furrowed.

I liked the feeling of having him frustrated at me. I see what he got from this. A little something I did caused him to think of me.  Before he could say anything, the teacher walked in noticing I moved to the back. She never said anything but she watched me intently.

Every class after I did the same. I joined Harry in the back. There was something thrilling about it. Sitting in the back no one dared to come close. The teachers frowned at what they saw, though. I chose to ignore it settling instead on teasing Harry.

At lunch the two of us sat at his normal lonely table. It felt odd sitting alone. Like everyone was staring and they were. None of my friends said anything, but they watched. All probably thinking the same thing. Sitting in front of Harry, I unwrapped the sandwich that we'd gotten from the bakery.

"You're right." he muttered taking a bite of his. "I don't want them to see my eyes."

"Because it's like letting people in." I said finishing his thought.

"How'd you know?" he seemed taken aback.

"Do you not remember that phase in year seven?" I asked. That was a bad year for me emotionally that carried over to year eight. It was full of screamo music and dark t-shirts.