Times - h.s.

The Park Bench

The biggest thing I've had to deal with in this last month with not having any contact with Harry was the annoying, nagging question that was in the back of my mind. I think I've managed to come up with more distractions than I ever have before and surprised myself because I didn't even think that these things were possible. Sometimes, though, I'll catch myself making up scenarios in my head about what could've happened, had my circumstances maybe been different and if I lived in a perfect world. I know exactly what I would have wanted.

Upon meeting him, I didn't think I was ready for a relationship because I thought that the biggest thing that needed work in my life was myself. After spending more time with him though, and just getting to understand that underneath every hard exterior is a very, very gentle soul, there was nothing more that I think I craved than wanting to be around him. I know, I know. Nobody needs to tell me, "Alexa, you barely know him," or "He didn't love you" or "You don't know what you're talking about".

Listen - I'm aware of how the whole situation looks from an outside perspective. If we haven't actually come to the conclusion that I'm an absolute and complete idiot, then let's establish that now. The truth is though, I don't actually care. My situation couldn't sound any more dramatic and that's fine by me because deep down, I know that what I'm feeling is something that I've never felt before. Like, actually. And we get it, we all do, considering that I said not too long ago what I thought love was. I'm starting to think I'm going crazy and the more and more I go on, I understand how everyone thinks this of me too. I'm not bipolar, I think that something just makes you crazy.

I don't want to say it, nor do I want to admit it.

But you know, that saying.

Love makes you crazy.

There. I said it. And as I write this, I understand that instead of me moping around and wondering what the hell is going on, I figure I might as well just go and get answers myself. Do I call my best friend, do I call Mark, or do I call Harry?

-

My finger hovers over her number on my phone screen for what feels like the actual fucking trillionth time. Just when I think I've mustered up enough courage to press it, I drop my phone in my lap and reach for the half empty bottle of Jack that rests on my thigh. Bringing it to my lips, I feel the liquid trickle down my throat and I wince - at the burning sensation, and at my literal emotional pain.

Right now, as I sit and think about how fucked up my life actually is and how I don't know how to fix it, I just wish I was with the one person who actually made me feel like they wanted to listen to the words that came out of my mouth. Not just listen to my voice, but hear what I'm actually saying. I've had dream after dream after fucking dream about her, which makes her seem so close when she's actually so far away.

I hate myself.

I manage to stand up, one of my knees threatening to give out for a split second, then snatch my keys off the counter and make my way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Cris asks me from the dining room.

"Away from you."

-

My indecisiveness has led me to go on a long walk, and 30 minutes later I've found myself sitting on a park bench right across from a busy main highway. Overlooking the city, I stare at all the buildings in the far distance that shimmer with their lights in Downtown. Maybe life isn't so bad. I have to realize that I have the opportunity that so many people would die for and I've just been kicking it to there curb.

Almost simultaneous with my thought, a car pulls up into the lot and the brakes are hit so late that the tires bump up against the curb, causing the whole car to jolt forward as I gawk at whatever idiot can't drive. I'm contemplating getting up and running away because the sun has just set and for the most part, I'm alone at this park except for some people that are sitting off in the grass maybe 50 feet away. However, when the familiar car door swings open, I stay put.

At what seems like a snail speed, one foot shuffles after the other out of the car, followed by a massive lanky torso and a head of disheveled curls. The door gets slammed, and then the boy who emerged from the car slowly starts to make his way over to me. The closer he gets, the more my heart starts to race and I really think that now, I should go while I still have the chance because he is literally walking so damn slow. But still, I stay put.

What will he say? What will I say? Does he even know I'm here? Or am I actually blind and is it not him? Should I stay where I am? If I get up now and leave, would he come after me? Can I make up my fucking mind? Do I -

"Alexa." Harry sputters.

His face is so dimly lit by the park lights, but I can tell that his eyes are bloodshot. I don't speak.

"That is you, right?" He asks me, still inching closer to me.

I blink at him, looking at the uncertainty on his face and trying to establish what the hell his body language is telling me.

"Alexa?"

The tone in his voice is now almost concerned, but innocently, and from where I sit, now that he's maybe an arms length away, I can see his face looks so tired.

Harry takes a seat on the opposite end of the bench and his gaze is so intense that I'm really wishing I would have gotten up when he was still across the parking lot and was taking his sweet time putting one front in front of the other.

His arms reaches up for a second, but then it slowly falls into his lap and he just stares at it. I clear my throat and he glances up, then waits for me to say something.

"How did you know I was here?" I ask, my voice barely audible with the white noise of the cars against the pavement in the background.

He shrugs. "I was driving, then from the street I saw your face and," A little smirk looks like it's about to form on his face. "I thought I was hallucinating or something..."

"I mean, it's me." I say. I don't know where to take this conversation. Why do I feel so nervous?

Ever so slyly, he scoots over to me, but only about an inch. "I have a lot to tell you, you know." Harry's eyes glisten as he says this and looks up at me, and I want to actually vomit at the sight because I haven't seen his face in so long, haven't looked into his eyes in so long, haven't been in his presence or this close to him in so long even though I wanted to tell myself I didn't need to be.

But right now, as he's sitting on the same bench as me and looking at me with a face that could probably fucking bring on world peace, I want to forget about everything in the world and maybe just sob for a few hours. Maybe even in his arms.

No, though. I need to remember why I didn't want to be around him.

"What could you possibly have to tell me?" I ask, but it's almost a statement because there's no tone of questioning at all in my voice.

And in this moment, I think I would actually have preferred to have ran away because I wasn't mentally, emotionally, physically, or even probably spiritually prepared for this, but Harry's shoulders begin to shake so slightly and I realize that he's fucking crying and with the most broken eyes I've seen and the shakiest voice I've heard, he says it.

"I just miss you."

Next thing you know, I'm crying in front of him too.

-

a/n
Well hi. Didn't think I'd be back here, but I was really missing Harry & Alexa. Do we still care about this as much as I do? :( Let me know! I'll edit this one later, just wanted to get it out.