Ink || h.s [sequel to grapite]

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Hey."

There it was. The last voice on Earth that I wanted to hear in that moment. I could almost hear the smugness that coated the greeting.

"Hi." I replied coldly, fixing my stare at the bookshelf in front of me. My hands flitted across the books, taking in their worn edges and timely appearances. Each one looked as if it had been standing on the shelf for over a millennium.

"Have you found a job yet?" He asked, picking up a book and glancing at the cover. After a moment of pondering, he returned it to it's place then chose another.

"Not yet."

"Do you need any help?" He asked, thumbing through the pages of the book that he held in his large hands. His eyes filled with considerations me afterthought, but he returned the back as he had done with the one before.

"Did I not make it clear?" I snapped, turning to face him. "Did I not make it clear enough to you that I do not want your help?"

"The offer's there if you want it." He shrugged, darting his eyes along the rows of books before us. He latched onto one and picked it out, smiling outwardly at the cover.

"I do not want it and I never will, okay?" I half-shouted.

"Library." Harry muttered, and I remembered where I was. People had turned around to see who was causing the commotion. They had closed their books or stopped their scouring to crane their heads in our direction.

"Thanks for the offer, but no thanks." I hissed, turning on my heel and striding towards the door.

The cold air outside bit harshly at my skin. It nipped and left red marks along my arms. The red marks were a soft scarlet, with a rose-coloured fade around them. I noticed that they were a warm contrast to the purple veins that surrounded them. They felt like they were there to show me how many times I'd done wrong because in that moment, I realised how unfair I'd been. Each tingling little spot felt like the guilt that sunk into my skin.

I wasn't going to gush and apologise to Harry though, I wasn't like that. Admittedly, I shouldn't have pushed him away. I was wrong. I'd been hurtful, I'd been guilty. He'd changed, but only on the inside. Somewhere beneath them walls, he'd been reaching out and trying to break through the walls that I'd rebuilt when I left.

I'd been ambling down the empty streets, blindly making the journey home. Everything had passed me by without my realising because my thoughts had consumed me. Before I knew it, I was back at the park bench with my feet tucked up behind me.

Taking the front strands of hair into my fingers, I tucked it behind my ear and sighed. There was so much built up frustration and anger that I'd been manoeuvring with a clouded judgement for so long. He tried to reach out for me and I pushed him away. I'd been completely liable for my actions and he bore the brunt of it.

I was to blame.

(A/N) Short chapter but please just appreciate the fact that I'm super busy. Exams, training, etc. Updating has been at the bottom of my priorities to be honest.