in which...

...y/n doesn't want for harry to leave

In which Y/N doesn't want for Harry to leave

"Poppet?" Harry calls out as he closes the front door behind him, already kicking his boots off.

The house feels eerily quiet and Harry glances around, popping by the kitchen first where he would usually find Y/N either rummaging through the fridge or making some kind of late night snack which usually consisted of lots of ice cream and gummy bears. But the light in the kitchen was switched off and she wasn't in there; nor was she in the living room or anywhere else since no light was on in the house; so he decides that the only place left where she could be is the bedroom.

Leaving his coat on the stair railing, he reaches the door and leans his head closer, ear pressing to the white oak, feeling like he might have heard something on his way up. And his thoughts are confirmed when there's a light sniffle coming from the other side of the door, which makes him alert and he's pushing on the handle in a matter of seconds.

"Y/N?" He asks quietly, reaching his hand on the wall to dim the lights on, and looking around the room to try and find her.

She's sitting on the carpet next to the closet in the corner of the room, back leaning against it and knees tucked up to her chest, her face hiding in them. She lifts her head as soon as she hears him, hands going up to wipe at her face, but it's too late, Harry's already seen it. The wetness around her eyes and rolling all the way down her cheeks. It makes his heart skip a beat and his feet are rushing to her side before he can even process what he's doing.

"Oh-oh, baby..." He coos gently, dropping to his knees in front of her, grasping her wrists to stop her from rubbing at her eyes so furiously. "What's wrong?"

He runs his thumbs over her knuckles, trying to find her eyes but she wouldn't allow him that. She doesn't like it when someone sees her cry, especially not him – makes her feel weak. Her lips are swollen and have turned into a deep cherry color, most likely from biting on them so much. He doesn't like seeing her like this, truly doesn't, it pains him so much because she just won't allow him to help.

"Look at me, sweetheart." He asks her, but she just shakes her head, her hair framing her face and shielding her away from Harry. "I'm here, yeah? You're good, you're safe. Just tell me what's wrong so I can fix it." He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and it's as if she completely loses it once again at the gentle contact.

A chocked out sob escapes her mouth and Harry rushes forward, tucking her into his chest, holding her tightly as her body shakes with sobs and cries, her tears already making a wet patch over his shirt. Harry just hushes her, rocking them both from side to side, gently running his fingers through her hair. He doesn't think his heart has ever hurt more than it does right now, seeing her like this.

"That's okay, you're okay," he says quietly, leaning his cheek on the top of her head, arms wrapped tightly around her body, "s'okay to cry, baby love."

It sounds as if she's trying to say something, but her sobs are so loud and everything that comes out of her mouth is slurred and incoherent, so Harry just hushes her once again and holds her tighter. They sit like that for a few more minutes, with him cooing gently in her ear and her crying her little heart out in the comfort of his arms, her body shaking with sobs.

"Hey," he says quietly, leaning back a little so he could get a glance at her, "look at me fo' a mo', yeah?"

But she just shakes her head, refusing once again, sniffling and burying her face deeper into his shirt, "C'mon, pet, gotta help me out a little here, yeah? Just look at me." At that he's only met with another shake of her head from side to side, which is when his voice turns a little colder, "Look at me, Y/N." He knows the authority behind his tone could always get her to do whatever he requested, and he feels bad for using it right now, but he needed for her to listen.