Slow Burn | HS

up in flames we go, you fire breather

April 2017

Joelle was never going to get the Little Einsteins theme song out of her head. Libby had brought her boxed set DVDs to Jo's apartment for their sleepover. Joelle was watching her and Josh for the night while Lola and Patrick went to see Wicked at the Boston Opera House and have a private night to themselves.

Joelle welcomed the distraction. She loved spending time with her niece and nephew, and if the Little Einsteins theme song was repeating over and over in her head, less time was spent thinking about Harry and the fact that they hadn't spoken in over a week.

Physically, she had never felt more comfortable. Rain fell from the sky in thick sheets, dripping down the window and pelting the roof. Josh was already sound asleep in his cozy travel Playpen in Joelle's bedroom, and Libby was snuggled up next to Joelle underneath a soft blanket, her head resting against the side of Joelle's arm as she fought off exhaustion.

Emotionally, she was still a bit of a wreck. She expected to hearsomething from Harry. But he left no calls, no messages, no texts to let her know how he was feeling okay, if he was healing nicely. Her conversation with Mara didn't help her feel much better either. She'd simply said that Harry had been down lately and that she hoped he'd reach out to Joelle soon.

Glancing at the clock, Joelle saw that it was nearly eight thirty, a little past Libby's normal bed time. She decided to let it slide. What kind of aunt would she be if she didn't let her three-year-old niece stay up a little later than usual?

The warmth of her apartment and the secureness of Libby's weight resting against her side had Joelle's eyes drooping right along with her niece's. They'd been shut for a few minutes when a loud knock on the door startled her from slowly fading into unconsciousness.

She jolted up from her slouched position, her heart racing quickly in her chest. In her haste to sit up, she jostled Libby, who only shifted her position and adjusted so she wasn't leaning on Joelle so much. It left enough room for Joelle to slink off of the couch and stand up, adjusting her clothes that had wrinkled and shifted.

She didn't even have enough time to take a step towards the foyer before another series of harsh knocks sounded out. She tiptoed quickly toward the door, shushing the intruder even though she knew they couldn't hear her on the other side of the door. She looks through the peephole to see who it is, and feels a pinch in her gut when she sees the top of a head covered with recognizable, dark curls.

Through the small circle, she can see Harry hunched over, his face to the floor, his arm bracing himself against the doorframe. She hesitates for a few moments before opening the door, but she jolts when he quickly glances up and another set of loud knocks shakes it in its frame. She quickly unchains the door and throws the deadbolt, opening the door just enough to poke her head out.

Harry's face is to the floor again, fixated on his shoes, his lids hooded. He looks up when he hears the door click open, and Joelle is greeted with dark circles, flushed cheeks, bloodshot eyes, a weary smile, and whiskey breath.

"Jo," he croaks out, voice scratchy. "I've been tryin' to come over here for ages." His speech is slurred and Joelle is froze in place. When she doesn't move, he puts his hand on the door and tries to push it open. He's unable to control much of his strength in his stupor, and Joelle stumbles back with the force under his hand. She quickly regains her footing and pushes back against him.

"Harry," she says. "What's going on?"

He reaches a gentle, fumbling hand to her face and pushes a lock of hair off of her forehead. "I've missed you so much."