Between Us [Spaces Sequel]

t w e n t y - s e v e n

That's how you stay alive. When it hurts so much you can't breathe, that's how you survive. By remembering that, one day, impossibly, you won't feel this way. It won't hurt this much.
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Proudly, I typed the last sentence of my paper, smiling to myself. It had taken everything of me to finish it and now that I was finally done, relief started building up in my body. Harry was done with this leg of the tour, which meant that soon I could see him and spend time with him. He had some more interviews today and music to record, before he would finally return to London. I checked my phone for messages, wondering that Harry had sent me none. That morning, I had texted him, but I hadn't received an answer yet. It seemed strange to me, since he would always text me back immediately, but I suspected that he just had a lot of work to do. I wandered into the living room, falling back onto the sofa, letting an exhausted sigh escape my mouth. Now that I had finished my paper, I could finally relax. Kaya was out again with her date and I was really hoping for it to work out between them. Now that I could finally relax again, I walked up to the bookshelf, pondering on what book to read, as I heard the doorbell ring. My heart dropped a little, since Kaya shouldn't have been back by now. I walked to the door quietly, curiously spying through the peephole. A huge smile grew on my face, as I saw curly hair, knowing exactly who it was. Quickly, I opened the door, ready to kiss him again, to be held by him again. But as soon as I saw his face, my smile started fading, my stomach dropped. His eyes were red and puffy and didn't hold their usual spark. He wasn't even looking at me, but I could hear his heavy breathing, as he held his hand to his chest, as if he was suffocating.
"Harry, what's wrong?" I asked, my voice full of worry. Never in my life had I seen him like this. "What's wrong?"
"I think," he mumbled, too out of breathe to speak clearly. "I might be having a panic attack."
Quickly, I pulled him into the appartment, shutting the door behind him. As I turned back around, he was on the floor with his back against the wall. His hand collapsed with his chest several times, as if he was trying to make his heart beat steadily again.
In the past, I had dealt with several panic attacks. They had basically been a fundamental part of my life. My first panic attack, I had had after my mother left. I had locked myself inside of my room, hearing my father angrily slam his fists against the door. Just like Harry did, I had been sitting with my back against the wall, trying to steady my breathing somehow. It is damn hard to stop a panic attack and it's even harder, when you have to go through it alone. As memories from my past haunted me, I sat down in front of my boyfriend, looking at him in worry.
"Harry, look at me," I demanded, which he didn't seem to hear at all. Tears started forming my eyes, as I cupped his face with my hands, forcing him to look at me. It took him a second to lock his green eyes with mine.
"I can't breathe," he whispered, not being able to utter a sound. "I can't breathe!"
His eyes were wide in panic and it hurt seeing him in this situation, knowing what it was like. I had never wanted him to feel anything like I had to feel and I couldn't help but wonder what it was that had put him into this situation. His eyes averted from mine, threatening to roll into the back of his head. "Look at me!"
Again, it took him a while to lock his eyes with mine. "You're going to be fine, you hear me?"
"I can't see, Scar," he whispered, grabbing my arm in panic. "Help me! Please..."
"Focus on me," I said, trying to get into his head. Having a panic attack was like everything disappearing around you. I needed to get him out of it somehow.
He looked at me, tears flooding from his eyes, his breathing still too heavy to catch it.
"Focus on me," I said, taking his hand. "Focus on my breathing, breathe with me."
Hesitantely, he nodded, trying to focus as hard as he could. It took him a few seconds to catch up with my breathing, trying to somehow imitate it.
"Keep going, Harry."
Slowly, his grasp on my arm became softer, the panic in his eyes began to fade, but the tears were still falling from his eyes.
"You're going to be fine," I whispered, cupping his face with my hands once again. We just sat there in silence, as I listened to his breathing slow down. His features started relaxing and so did his entire body.
After a while, he kept looking at me and I asked him, "Better?"
He nodded slowly, but then tears fell from his eyes again.
"You'll be fine," I reassured, wrapping my arms around him. It didn't take him long to tightly wrap his arms around me. All I could hear, was him crying into my shoulder quietly. Hearing his sobs, brought tears to my eyes, as I rubbed his back with my right hand to comfort him.
"I can't do this," he whispered, pulling out of the hug. I grabbed his hand, holding it in mine.
"What is it?" I asked him, wiping his tears away, but still resting my hand on his cheek.
"My dad," he whispered, as the tears continued falling. "I came here to surprise you and I just got a call from my Mum. My dad had a heart attack."
"Oh no," I whispered, my heart starting to hurt in my chest. "What happened?"
"He didn't make it, Scar. They couldn't do anything for him," he stuttered, continually interrupted by loud sobs.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, a tear falling from my eyes.
"He's gone," Harry whispered again, sobbing.
"I'm so, so sorry," I mumbled, knowing that there was nothing I could say to make him feel better. I could just sit on the floor with him.
"It hurts," he whispered. "Please make it stop."
"I can't, Harry. I know it hurts, but you need to just... let it out. No matter how hard it hurts, pain demands to be felt."

After about an hour on the floor, I had convinced him to get up. He was now sitting on my bed, sobbing hysterically, while I was in the kitchen making tea. Seeing him in so much pain, only made me realize how much I loved him and how desperately I needed him to be happy. The way he felt, I could feel it in me. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest with every single one of his sobs. My lungs were on fire, trying to fight back sobs of my own. My stomach felt empty, as if every tear from his eye was another punch in my stomach. I knew I couldn't help him and I knew that nothing could cure this kind of pain. The only thing I knew was that somehow, it would go away. When you lose someone, it's apocalyptic pain that never seems to end. It hurts so much, you can't breathe, you feel like you might die. The truth is, pain like this is what keeps us alive. It's what keeps us going, what makes us survive. The pain of losing someone is the worst, something you wouldn't even wish upon your worst enemy. In that moment, it feels like the world is falling apart, like the sky is falling down. But after feeling this kind of agonizing pain, it gets better each day. I was living proof that things could get better and that there was hope. I walked to the bedroom, two cups of tea in my hands, putting them down on the nightstand before sitting down on the bed next to Harry. He smiled at me slightly. "Thanks, love."
"Anytime," I said, taking his hand.
"This is really happening, isn't it?"
"I'm so sorry," I whispered.
"You know, even though he was my step-dad, he was still my dad," he said. He had told me about his family before, that his parents got divorced when he was seven and that his mother remarried. "He way always there for me."
Although I wanted to comfort him somehow, I didn't have the right words to say, so I remained silent instead.
"When I was on the X-Factor, he was there. He always believed in me. I even told him about you, when I first started talking to you," he said, smiling at the memory.
"You did?" I asked, my eyes tearing up.
"Of course I did. He said that if it feels this right to me, then it's about time I meet you," he replied.
A tear rolled down my cheek, as I smiled a little.
"When we started dating, I told him first and he had this huge smile on his face," he said, chuckling slightly. "He wanted to meet you so badly."
I sobbed a little, knowing that I would never be able to meet him. "I wish I could've met him."
"He would've loved you," he said, wiping my tears. "He was the best, you would've loved my dad."
"I'm so sorry," I whispered again, feeling empty inside.
Harry kissed my lips softly. "Thank you."
"For what?" I asked him.
"For calming me down earlier," he explained. "And for being there for me. I feel like actual shit right now and I need you."
"You've always been here for me and I'll always be there for you. I'm not leaving."
"While you were making tea, I called my Mum. I'm flying home soon, for the funeral and just to be with my family."
"Do you want me to come with you?" I asked.
"You don't have to," he said, a tear rolling down his cheek.
"I want to," I reassured him. "Only if you want me to, of course."
He nodded, smiling sadly.
"Would you be fine if we just cuddled for the night? I'm sorry, I'm probably going to cry a lot."
"Don't you apologize," I said, lying down on the bed. Seconds later, Harry was next to me, pulling me into his embrace.
For the rest of the night, we stayed in bed, mostly silent. Harry told me stories about his dad, making both of us cry into each other's shoulders. My heart hurt for Harry, who had lost his beloved father so early. Way too early.