under the covers [hs au]

chapter twenty-three.

author's note!

i decided it would be best for me to put warnings because things can get triggering.

TW:///

this chapter is a bit intense; it contains the topic of depression, suicide, grief.

i hope everyone is safe indoors and staying healthy.

-

"Everything okay, darling?"

Rain pattered onto the windshield. The drive was pleasant; she listened quietly to Harry talking. He wore her yellow jacket, and his hair was damp, with a few strands falling over his face.

Samira spent her days heeding, loving Harry. How his eyes were always a different shade of green. His tone of voice early in the morning, the hours of noon, and late at night. Knowing what he needed by reading his gaze. Retaining the small things he loved to do.

But it wasn't always comfortable. Samira found it challenging to tell Harry off but too easy to give in. His jealousy, his possessiveness, his insecurities, his heart-wrenching words to keep her longer—she excused it in the blink of an eye.

Samira felt as though she were stuck in a hurricane, waiting patiently for the calm of eye to reach her because she was lost. And it sucked.

"Yeah," she answered. "I'm alright."

She wasn't having the greatest day; in the middle of her lab with Noureen, her father called her—it ended with an argument that was yet to be made up. Since then, her mind remained blurry.

The light turned red. She felt Harry's eyes dart to her; her heart fluttered when he pulled her hand, kissing it.

"You're awfully quiet," he mentioned, rubbing her temple with his thumb. "You barely told me about your day."

Harry was correct—but that was none of his business.

Right?

"I guess I'm just tired," Samira answered.

But his attention followed her as they made it to her apartment. His gaze signaled he needed something, but what was it?

Lassitude pervaded her eyelids. Before Samira walked into her bedroom, she felt Harry grip her wrist. When their eyes met, he swallowed, his lips pursed into a small line.

"What's up?" She asked.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows slightly: "You're not lying to me, are you?"

Shit.

"Don't worry about it, Harry."

He bit the inside of his cheek: "You promised you'd tell me everything."

Every part of her body yelled at her to rest; she had no energy to bicker with him.

"I know," she agreed. "I'll tell you later, okay? I want to sleep."

"When things like this happen for me, you don't let me sleep until I tell you what's on my mind. Why can't you do the same?" Harry ranted.

"Because I'm fine," she insisted.

"I know you're not," he interjected. "You barely ate anything at dinner."

Samira tilted her head. "But I did?"

"You didn't," he countered.

"Why does any of that matter?" She asked.

"It's not just that, it's—" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "You haven't been you lately."