Impulse ➳ h.s. (On hold)

08. Bold Choices

Jane's POV

"So how do you like your coffee?" Harry asks me when we enter the small café.

"Black." I state my preferred taste of the drug that has, to this day, never let me down.

"Black? As in bland? As in no cream or sugar?" He has his eyebrows raised.

"Of course." I smirk.

"First time I have seen a woman with such bold choices."

"Guess I'm not your average girl." There's more truth behind my words than I am letting on.

"Guess not." He gets in line behind two other people.

I have to admit it is truly dazzling to be here. The way the city seems to stand still yet there is so much life buzzing from corner to corner. From edge to edge. Women on their phones talking with such force and firmness, letting their native language roll of their tongue with such ease. The clacking of shoes over the stone sidewalks is like music to my ears. Everyone has something to do, somewhere to go, decisions to make, and they all seem to have grown used to the exquisite features of Paris. No one takes a minute to breathe in the beauty.

"One cup of black coffee for the young lady." He smiles.

"Thanks." I give a small smile to the angelic man before me.

"You know Jane, I have decided I like you. I don't know much about you, but I know I like you." He takes a sip of his coffee.

"No you don't." I stare straight into his eyes.

"Sorry, I must sound really crazy, I mean we only spoke for a while on the pla-bottom line I like you." He rubs the back of his neck.

"Why did you change the subject when you mentioned us speaking on the plane?" I press. This is the only way I can clear things up between Harry and I.

"Well, uh, it was a lovely conversation that we had before you went to the restroom, but after... it suddenly switched to serious." He seems nervous now. His eyes aren't meeting mine anymore.

"Serious as in how?" I just want to see what he remembers.

"Serious as in you seemed really sad and not okay. And-and I saw... I saw your wrist Jane. I saw it." He finally looks up at me.

I feel the tears peeking through. I look up trying to hold them back trying to fight them. This is embarrassing.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" His voice is barely audible.

"Jane look at me."

Harry, who is basically still a stranger, has asked me the question no one has dared to ask me. He has given me the opportunity to unburden my soul. I don't have to be alone in this.

"I..." What if this is all for nothing? What if what I tell him isn't what he was expecting? He doesn't understand. It will all just be idiocy and deranged to him.

"Harry, don't try to fix me. Just don't. You might cut yourself on my broken pieces." the tears are too much to hold in. In a matter of seconds they come pouring out like a waterfall.

I immediately stand up and walk out of "Promesse Café" as calmly as I could manage not wanting to draw attention.

"Jane! Jane, wait!" I hear Harry call out from a distance.

I don't know which way the dorms are so there is no way to escape him. I run to a large fountain where no one is around and decide to sit there to calm down and hope Harry didn't follow.

My fears have come true as I see black skinny jeans and black boots head towards me. Why can't he get it through his head? I'm just not worth it.

What I am suffering like hell from is not something 'beautifully tragic'. It's not something stupid that I can just shake off either. This isn't a 'phase' in life. It is a disorder.

He sits as near me as he possibly could.

I give in and lay my head on his shoulder. The second I let the tears flow he holds me tight in his arm. An embrace I know I will never forget the feeling of.

"Jane. I can't promise you I will understand your reasoning and I can't give you any useful advice, but I do promise to listen. I'll listen to anything and everything you have to say. I know what it's like to be kept in silence for too long and what it can lead to. So I'm here to listen and keep it between us." He lifts me by my chin to look up at him.

In that moment that our eyes met I knew this man would stain my tar black soul with his words.

***

Harry's POV

She didn't allow me to read her poetry because it is personal. Her head laying in the crook of my neck and her soft weeping counts as the first poem she's shown me. Because it's personal.

And sure I might be the stupid fuck who doesn't have emotions, but I know she is in bloody hell. Someone as beautiful as her doesn't deserve this shit. She shouldn't be alone in this.

"My biggest regret: starting to hate myself just because everyone else did." she states with a sniffle.

"Is that how it all started?" I ask as softly as I can.

"Mhmm. The root from which the problem stemmed. I just feel so finished most of the time. Like there isn't anything left."

"How do you get so empty? Who takes it out of you?" Does she mind the questions I ask?

"Sadly, mostly me. It wasn't an overnight thing. With every... insult, sleepless night, and... cut, it's like a part of me vanished. I'd get sucked farther and farther until it became a routine." Her tears turn into sobs.

I could tell this wasn't something easy for her to tell.

"Harry I want to thank you so much, but I can't talk about this anymore. It brings back memories all at once. That never leads to a good thing." She looks down at her shoes.

"I understand, let's go back to the dorms. I'll tell you why I was in Tee's room instead of her on the way." I nod knowingly.

We walk side by side back to the dorms as I tell her about Tracy and Calum's inseperable-ness.

Here's Chapter 8 yay. Vote, vote, vote please. It only takes a second. One press of a button.

still love you,

jasmine xx