blue (book one) - h.s. ✔️ watty's 2019

chapter 22

His apartment is white. White marble to be exact, completely in contrast with the wooden outside, but yet it somehow works. It's completely empty with the exception of the dull, expensive furniture acting as a mirror to the decadent owner. It's all so very familiar. . . almost homey.

Almost.

I walk in and am not surprised by the cold temperature, as it translates well with the icy atmosphere. I take my shoes off along with the small jacket Harry handed me and walk to a room that seemed like the laundry room and to my luck it happens to be the little room.

I turn around to Harry's quizzical eye and make my way towards him to place his clothes.

"Lucky guess."

As usual, the iciness between us has changed considerably! Not near to the point of how I know it can be but enough. Enough for me to not want to run outside barefoot.

How stupid!

My immune system is as weak as balsa. I know I am going to regret it in the coming weeks.

"Do you have the time?"

"A quarter past two."

"Where are we?"

"Inside," he smirks. Idiot.

Blowing out a quiet breath I let it slide. I do not have the energy to play his little games right now. I just want to head off to bed. I go to the darkest part of the apartment and blindly place my hands on the wall to look around for the light switch. I turn the light on eager to find the shower, and lucky enough, I find it the first opened door.

The steam from the shower clouds the entire bathroom. I'm not sure if the droplets on my forehead are from the shower or if it is just perspiration. The thought is washed away as soon as I place my head under the shower head to wash the foam from my hair. The action relaxes my muscles and I am surprised by how tense they are.

I hum to myself lightly as I proceed with my shower rituals and take a moment to empty my head.

No arguing, no fights, no pain, no rain, no Harry.

I find myself washing off the last bit of foam from my freshly shaven legs a bit later and search around for the towels I saw upon entering the room. Grabbing three, saving the softer, more smaller one for my face I wrap the other two around my hair and my torso. I put on the peach scrub sitting on his counter and time after am dabbing my face with the fluffy face towel. I'll just pay him back later.

After my face is dry enough I panic at the realization that I did not bring a change of clothes. I look around for my clothes prior to the shower and see that they are no use to me drenched in water. Sighing, I open the bathroom door slowly and pray that Harry isn't around to witness this.

I take one leg out from the room and instantly regret it.

I fall face down on the wooden floor over a pile of perfectly folded clothes Harry must've put out for me. My face is in a remarkable pain and I feel like my nose may be broken or something.

"Hey! Are you oka-,"

"Please do not come back here!" I yell red-faced. The last thing I need is for Harry to see me in this state.

"Just," I stutter.

"I'm fine! I am indecent. Please, go away."

"Okay."

After I am dressed in the oversized sweater that passes mid thigh, burying much of the cotton pajama pants I am wearing, I head upstairs trying to avoid Harry for the rest of the night.

I'm unsure of what rooms are available to me in. . . Harry's flat? Or whoever's apartment this belongs to. . . I should really confront him about that. I've been here twice. As for now, I am just trying to sleep.

In the morning. I'll ask in the morning.

THE MORNING AIR is vaguely still. I move slowly as if I will wake someone even when the room is completely bare - myself being the exception. I've been trapped in this room for a few days now. I don't know how or when I stopped living. I feel like a zombie. I wake up, cry, tend to Harry's bruises, cook, and sleep again. Thankfully, I'm still an entire week ahead in my studies - sometimes being a 'stuck up know-it-all' pays off.

I've been too afraid to reach out to Alex. He was so angry with me. I don't remember much of it, but he's never used that kind of language with me. It still stings.

I open the indoor shutters covering the window to give warmth to this barren room. For it to be touched by the fertility of the sun - continuously bringing things to life.

It feels nice on my skin. Although the window is closed I can smell the fragrance of mother Earth after the storm. Pretty.

All that remains is the sound of the pitter patter of the forgotten droplets up against random objects, filling empty cans, bottles. 

I am broken out of my trance by the sound of my stomach grumbling. When I open the door to the tiny bedroom I pop my head out for any sign of Harry. It's far too early to engage in banter with him and I just honestly wish to be alone right now. He's been so short with me. I can't deal with him treating me badly too. It's too much. I walk out with a sheet wrapped around my waist for the sake of this uncanny cold.

Despite my wishes, I see him resting against the kitchen counter.

He rubs his large hands over his swollen face again in a frustration I hope is as great as mine. He deserves to feel the pain and confusion and cloudiness he casts upon others. It's only karma.

I see him take out a cigarette and quickly shut my mouth once I feel the urge to complain about smoking indoors. Walking towards the window furthest from me he opens it and lights it. His hands take grip of the railing outside of his window and even from afar his veins are bulging. His tattoos are so much more visible in soft light; something I noticed the night at the park.

"Are you going to stop being creepy now?"

I stumble.

"Morning to you too."

He scoffs at my comment. I make my way towards the fridge, ready to pull out the ingredients for any breakfast. Eggs, milk, cheese, omelette? That's most practical. I then search for a skillet without grabbing the ingredients and can feel Harry's eyes on me; I ignore him. After letting out a breath I give up and turn around to find him smirking at me.

"Now you're the one being creepy," I retort annoyed. Just then the microwave dings and I scrunch my eyebrows.

"It's for you. Eat quickly. We have a long day ahead of us."