Stare Like You'll Stay [h.s.]

Chapter 9: Underneath the skin there's a human

April 2017 - Present - London, England - Harry's POV

After tossing and turning for the millionth time, I finally rose from bed and glanced at the clock ticking on the wall across from me. A 7 a.m. wake up would have to do. My feet made contact with the soft carpet as I attempted, and failed, to stretch the tension out of my limbs.

While jet lag could be partly to blame, the mixed emotions I was feeling last night made it nearly impossible for me to sleep. Being in the guest room felt eerie and foreign and I spent most of the night resisting the urge to march into Rachel's room and tell her once more how much I loved her and how sorry I was. Instead, I stared at the ceiling in defeat for hours, letting my own self-shame and sorrow brew deep inside me.

The flat was quiet, the occasional creaks of the radiators being the only noises to fill the space. Quietly, I opened the door and made my way down the hallway, the familiar creaks of the floorboards comforting me in a situation that felt anything but.

The sun had already begun to rise into the sky, the natural light being the only thing to illuminate the flat as condensation from the night's rain ran down the windows. A wave of deja vu came over me as the familiar scent of the flat overtook my senses, the familiar sensation of my bare feet padding across the floorboards and the morning light nearly transporting me back to a simpler time. I had spent many mornings exactly like this, trying to not wake Rach as I made us morning coffees or cleaned up from the night before.

Though they seemed forgettable when they were happening, I would give nothing more than a few mornings like this where I knew I would eventually be crawling back into bed with her.

Turning the corner into the living room, my heart nearly leapt out of my chest when I saw Rach sitting next to the window with a lit cigarette, consciously making sure all of the smoke made it out the window.

Scratching the back of my head in discomfort, I made my way across the room, the floorboards squeaking with every step I took and sat down on the blush coloured sofa across from her. She didn't flinch or acknowledge my presence, but instead, kept her gaze trained outside the window as she watched London wake up before her eyes.

She had her familiar silk green pyjama set on, something she would spend most Sundays wearing around the house as we made endless cups of tea and watched movies or just listened to records as we spent the day cleaning.

My mind continued to search for things to say to her as she sat there, bare-faced with the morning light illuminating all of her features. I had dreamed of having more moments like this with her, where we could sit alone in our flat and hide from the problems that were going on outside. 

I resisted the urge to just reach across and kiss her, just as I have wanted to since the moment I left this apartment nearly a year ago. But at that moment, I knew that all Rach wanted to do was sit in silence so I let it be. She stared out the window and I stared at her, wondering what she was thinking. Did she also feel what I was feeling? Like we had just gone back in time and everything that had happened was forgotten?

I felt almost desperate, like at any moment, I would blink and she would no longer be in front of me. My eyes continued to linger as I gazed past every tattoo and scar on her skin. Some were familiar, others seemed new and it pained me to know that not only had Rach spent this past year without me being part of it, but that was she was going through things I would never be able to help her with again.

I watched as she finished her cigarette and smashed the filter into the ashtray that rested next to the window before closing the window and finally locking her eyes with mine. She looked tired and drained, but her eyes were steady on mine for the first time in well over a year.