crumble | h.s

part forty nine

from the dining table
(you don't have to listen while reading, it just fits this chapter)

Lydia White

Everything feels wrong.

I have Harry laying here, right next to me, where he should be..but it doesn't feel like it should.

He didn't speak much once we found him. The travel back home involved me sitting on Harry's lap, with both of us softly crying...but nothing was said.

We got back home and Harry showered. I met him in the bed. We said goodnight, kissed, and that was all.

Now he was laying with me in his arms. He was asleep, but his eyes were pinched shut, not relaxed.

I fell asleep holding onto him, because I was scared that I'd wake up and he'd be gone.

That was a feeling I never wanted to experience again.

I haven't slept. It's about 6 in the morning now. It was dark, because there were no open windows.

I just stare at the ceiling, with my head on Harry's bare chest.

He has a black eye, and a bruised cheekbone and jaw. I don't know exactly what happened to him while the Phantoms had him, but I could tell that it was silently taking a toll on him.

I've cried so much tonight. I couldn't any more, even if I wanted to. The only time Harry cried was when he saw me again for the first time...other than that he's been comforting me when I cried.

I felt selfish, because I poured out everything that I was feeling and didn't give him the chance too.

I couldn't tell what was going on in his head. I just knew that he was broken tonight.

I was driving myself crazy. I need to get up.

Slowly, I take my head off of Harry's chest and sneak out from under his arms. He stirs a little but doesn't wake up.

I leave the room as quietly as possible. He needed to sleep.

I rub my tired, unrested eyes and walk downstairs and into the kitchen. I just needed some water or something. I left the light off, because my eyes would hurt otherwise.

I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the sink. I took a sip and let the liquid run down my throat.

I put the glass down and rub my temples. There were a million thoughts racing through my head that it actually hurt.

Things didn't feel right. Everything felt like it was flipped on its side.

I was so grateful to have Harry back. I thought I would never see him again. I really thought they were going to kill him.

But even though he was back home, things weren't okay.

I'm not okay. He's certainly not okay. Everything just feels...doomed.

The events from the night keep flashing through my head like some sort of dreadful montage.

I remember the feeling of waking up and Harry not being home. I remember Louis calling him and hearing his muffled screams from the other end of the phone, confirming the worst case scenario in my head.

I remember when he begged me not to look for him. I remember when he told me he loved me because he thought that was the last time he'd ever be able to say it.

I remember not saying it back because I didn't want it to be over.

The kitchen light flicks on, making me turn around and squint at the sudden brightness.