Aberration

Chapter 53

"Just do it" I think to myself. But I stand as still as stone; my feet molded into the floor like it was the only thing keeping me alive. Which in this case, maybe it does. Because what ever Harry has on his mind that he's waited another week to share with me, has to be worth something.

I stand up straight, staring ahead at the white wooden door in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I knock, slowly coming to a stop and listening. A hum of acknowledgment comes from the other side and I take this as a chance to enter. I pop my head in first, my eyes sealed shut. "Is it clear?" I ask blindly.

"Yes Ava I'm not naked."

I open my eyes, smiling slightly and walking the rest of the way into Harry's room. It looks just the way it did yesterday. And the day before that, and the day before that. Clean, besides drawing paper litering the floor; the air smelling of pure guy.

"You were yesterday." I say as I take a seat in front of him on his bed, criss-crossing my legs. 

He puts down his pencil, raising his eyebrow at me. "I had my shirt off."

I shrug, looking around the room and avoiding his gaze. Recently, it was only times like this were I was a bit uncomfortable around him. By the second day we began really conversing again, I could tell Harry had started taking his pills again. It was a bitter-sweet realization. Sweet, because he would feel better and mostly be able to relax without so much anxiety and other thoughts; yet bitter, because it was such an easy fix, and one I should've never let fall between my fingers.

Once he began focused on his drawing again, I looked back at him. I had this habit of staring at him. Of looking him over day after day. Simply, because I concluded, one could never really get tired of looking at Harry. (a/n can I get a hooya) 

Everything he did was captivating. The way his hands moved when he was working on a drawing, and how his eyebrows creased when he was in deep thought or focus. It was all so eccentric in a way. Harry was the epitome of a beautiful person. And it wasn't all just physical.

It was his mind; the way you could see the wheels turning when he pondered. How intellectual and seemingly pure his thought process was, despite if it was occasionally clouded with unruly thoughts or emotions. But through all of this, some parts of Harry were still a mystery to me. Like one big puzzle just waiting to be solved. But the catch was you had to wait for Harry to give you the pieces.

And every day, it seemed like I was one centimeter closer to getting another piece. But when I ran out of ideas to what the puzzle pieces of his mind might be, I'd settle for just looking at him. Which really wasn't "settling" at all. Though, the best thing about our time together every night, in my opinion, was catching a small detail about Harry's physical appearance I hadn't seen the day before. It was at this point of our nightly gathering together tonight that I noticed the one new thing I hadn't before. His hair.

What used to be tight ringlets of curls some two, almost three, years ago, were now long locks. The color much darker than what it was before, the only curls to be found were at the ends of the wavy strands. I examined how it fell just past his ears, like how a bob cut would on a women, though longer in the back. But to be honest, Harry seemed to wear it better.

As his head dipped down to look at his paper, it crowded over his face, falling over his eyes and resting on his cheek. On instinct, I reached over, pushing it out of his eyes and by his cheek gently. I felt him tense under my touch and I immediately drew my hand back. My eyes quickly flicked down into my lap then back at him as my mouth stood slightly agape.

"Sorry," I breathed timidly. "I forgot.."

His eyes held mine but he said nothing, only making my chest grow tighter. A moment or two later he withdrew his tense and seemingly thoughtful gaze. The urge to ask him what he was thinking rose in my throat, and I held back for a second. But then I thought. Talking and conversing is what he needs. Not to bottle his thoughts and store them away.

And whether this was true or just an excuse to ask him what he was thinking about, I'll never know. And so I asked anyway. 

"What's on your mind?" I asked quietly, tilting my head to the side slightly to get a better view of his face.

His hand hovered over the paper, the pencil wiggling but not reaching the surface. He stared at the bed in front of him, listening but not responding just yet. And then he looked up at me, his eyebrows still furrowed in focus. "I want to talk now." he said, his tone coming out more as a question than a statement.

My heart leaped with both excitement and fear. After a week of waiting and killing myself with "what if" thoughts and scenarios, I was finally gonna know what took so long for him to build up the nerve and certainty to talk to me about. He was obviously unsure before when he first mentioned it, but now he seemed more confident than ever as he sat up. His eyes penetrating mine.

"Then talk," I urged lightly, concealing my conflicting emotions about the secret topic. I could suddenly feel my pulse in my finger tips as the gears noticeably began spinning in his head once again. As if he was reassuring himself for the final time like what he was about to say what actually what he wanted to say.

His lips parted a second later, and he spoke. "I don't think I can leave you here when tour starts in two weeks." He paused. His eyes searching mine for a second. "Everything would shatter." his voice fell at the end.

He shook his head lightly, as if imagining what would happen. His mouth opened again to continue, but I could tell he was having a difficult time finding the words to express his feelings.

"Just tell me what you want Harry." I said calmly, trying as best as possible to keep my composure. For him and myself.

His hands quivered, but not as badly as they had before. He brought his head back up, running his hand through his hair,as if to preoccupy them, and letting them fall fidgeting. "I want," he stuttered, his gaze hardening over with focus, and after a moment of long eye contact between us, certainty. He pressed his lips together.

I felt as if I was going to pass out. Say it, I said mentally to him, briefly wishing he could hear my thoughts and I his. Say it, say it, say it.

"I want you to come with me."

Sorry for the long wait and such a short chapter! I'm updating soon so get ready, a LOT is about to happen xx -kenzie