Finding New Love

Get Off Of Me

Mal woke up. And she wasn't happy, to say the very least. 

It felt like she was being crushed by tons of bricks. She couldn't move, and she couldn't breathe. She was stuck. She was stuck under a muscle head that had no definition of space. She was pretty sure that if she didn't have bones, she would be a pile of mush because of the weight that was crushing her.

"Harry," she said, trying to get him off of her. Her left hand was stuck under him. She used her right side to try to flip him off of her. But he was so heavy that it didn't do anything to help free her from his weight. "Harry," she said again, louder and more angry. 

He groaned. "Two more minutes," he mumbled. "Oh, who am I kidding. Two more hours." His eyes remained closed and by the quiet snores, Mal knew that he had gone back to sleep. He was such a lazy person, that Mal wondered how he had ever become one of the most feared people on the Isle. 

She really needed to use the bathroom, and if she couldn't get him off of her... He would be cleaning the couch. And the rest of the apartment for that matter. "Harry," she said, pulling at soft black hair a little harder than she knew was necessary. "Get off!" 

"Ow!" he said, finally opening his eyes to find an angry Mal underneath him. "Oh, good morning, Mal," he said with a nonchalant grin. "How did you sleep last night?" 

"Harry," she said with a forced smile that told him just how pissed off she was. "Get off of me." 

At the heat that was radiating off of her, he was up and off the couch within seconds. She gave him a smile before running to the bathroom. He knew that if he had stayed on her any longer, she would have burned him alive. The heat that had been coming from her had been those green flames of her. The same green as her eyes. And despite being stuck in a shit hole such as the Isle, Harry had decided a very long time ago that he actually like being alive. And he really didn't want to be burned alive by Mal. Though, he figured, that it might be a better death than the death that others had planned for him.

He heard the flush of the toilet and Mal walked back into the room. The anger had faded, which was a first because it was rare for Mal's anger to fade that quickly. It was replaced with exhaustion. Memories of last night came flooding back. The fact that the King had actually given Mal a warning of their used-to-be-impending-breakup, angered Harry more than he would ever admit to Mal. 

"Are you feeling better?" he asked her. There was nothing but concern written on his face. She made sure to double check the emotions that seemed to flow across his face before responding. It was strange, but she trusted Harry enough to tell him how she actually felt. 

"No," she said, closing her eyes. She felt so tired, even after sleeping so much last night. "I feel drained. So much that it's affecting me physically." When she reopened her eyes, Harry noted how dull her green eyes were. He hadn't paid any attention to it before, but now that it was light out, he saw how dull her eyes appeared. Proof of how much she had loved the King, and how heartbroken she was. 

He did the only thing he could as someone that had once loved her. He pulled at her wrist and brought her into a hug. Her walls hadn't been broken down the way that she had intended for them to be broken down. He knew that. Her walls had been shattered by the King. And she would slowly build them up again. But because of the King's actions, when she finally built her walls back up, she might not be the same person that she was before. 

Harry still had feelings for the purple-haired girl that was currently in his embrace. He had tucked them away the day that she had left. The day that he had sat on the docks and watched as the limousine took her away from him. And seeing her now... He regretted  letting her go. He wished he had fought harder against Maleficent's wishes. 

Mal's arms remained limp at her sides. He figured that she wouldn't make an effort to hug him back, either out of surprise, or the awkwardness of the situation. He was, technically, her ex. 

He pulled away, holding Mal at arm's length to study her face. It was pale, but her cheeks were tinted pink. "Why?" Mal asked. She had been wondering about it the whole time, actually. Why, even after leaving him and doing all that she had to him, was he being so nice to her? Why did he treat her with kindness. Why was there nothing but concern on his face? Why did he hug her and make her feel safe, when he could and should have just killed her like he had promised her before she left. 

"Because, Mal," he said, in an almost dejected voice, a sad smile on his face,  "I still like you. I don't know why. But I never stopped liking you."