Black Ink || Harlena a.u.

26.

"You've got a hold on me
You're like a wasted dream
I gave you everything
But you don't know how to love me
when you're sober"

____****____

Harry sat in front of me, his hands rubbing against one another as we both looked away in the awkwardness that consumed us.

The shop seemed different than how it had been the last time I was here. Perhaps it was because some of the light from outside was seeping through.

"I should get going," I stood up from the chair. Harry got up as well, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Wait," he sighed. "Jane is pregnant," he continued. "But it's-" there was a small grimace on his face as he looked down at the floor. "It's not mine."

His eyes looked up at me, waiting for me to say something.

I swallowed, "I'm really sorry."

A frown etched on his face, "No, I didn't say that so you'd pitty me.... I said it because I didn't want you to think that I just went off with some girl everytime I got upset with Jane. Much less if you knew she was pregnant and thought the baby was mine."

I got where he was coming from. And the vulnerability displayed in front of me made my arms itch in need of having them wrapped around him. "I don't think of you any differently than the guy who gave me a tattoo for my birthday," I smiled knowingly, throwing some of his words at him.

His lips twitched before smiling at me, unable to conceal the small chuckle as he shook his head. "I meant every word, you know?"

There was something about the way he stared at me with a boyish expression, making him seem soft despite the ink that ran down his body.

He must have caught me glancing where his butterfly tattoo was covered by his white tee because he looked down as well before smiling, "Your scratches are still red."

I blinked in confusion before feeling the heat creep onto my cheeks in realization of what he meant. My hands covered my face as I laughed in embarrassment.

"Feisty one, you are," he continued.

"Stop."

He emitted a laugh before I felt him get closer to me. Fingers curled around my wrists before they pulled down so that I was face to chest with him.

His hand traveled from my wrist to my waist, pulling me close before squeezing it. The familiar feeling of his hands on me ignited something within myself. It was as if his hands had placed themselves directly on top of the skin that still had his handprint on it; which only became feverish when the right person introduced their own touch.

"Look at me," his voice wasn't teasing anymore. It was husky.

I obliged, being careful not to lose all self control as his head dipped. He stopped. His lips being so close to my cheek and my lips being so close to his jaw.

My hands traveled up his bare arms, fingertips leaving behind a trail that felt more permanent than his ink.

Then the feeling was gone. Harry had pulled away, sighing deeply before his palms rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

As much as I wanted to tell him to kiss me, I had to understand that even though he claimed he wanted nothing more with Jane, he had just come out of a relationship with her.

An understanding yet sad smile formed on my lips, "Don't be."

He didn't say anything as I walked passed him towards the front of the shop. He merely looked at the floor, lost deep in thoughts that seemed to occupy his mind more than what was happening in front of him.

He was stepping away from me. Which he would've done two nights ago if his blood hadn't been drowning in liquor. This time, he was sober.