Reunion [Harry OsbornxReader] ~Book 2~

CHAPTER 8

After a while of sobbing, your tears slowed. Your face was nuzzled into his chest, taking in his warmth and scent, helping you calm down. Your mind was clear enough for you to hear your surroundings.

"Hey," Harry called to you softly. 

You looked up from burying your face in his chest. Few tears still stained your face and drew paths along your cheeks, but you weren't sobbing. Your wide, watery eyes looked up at him, giving your full attention to his words. His eyes met yours, and he resumed speaking.

"Do you want to stay with me tonight? I don't think you'd want to be alone," Although the proposition itself was innocent and genuine, you couldn't help but feel your heart flutter. After all, those words were commonly associated with a not family-friendly activity.

"If you want to be alone though, it's fine. Or if you want to stay with Nico and Robin, I can drop you off,"

 You pondered your options. It wasn't that much of a question though, with your heart practically gripping onto the thought of Harry. However. there was the thought that you were burdening him, he didn't need your problems on top of his.

But, staying with him for one night wouldn't hurt, right?

"No.. I'll, I'll stay with you." 

He sighed in relief. "Let's go now then. Do you want to visit Nico and Robin, or do you just want to go home?"

All you wanted was to sleep. The wave of emptiness and exhaustion hit you square in the face after your emotional rollercoaster. Straight to sleep sounded nice. You could've fallen asleep right there, in his arms. 

"I just, wanna go home. Please."

"Okay, let's go." He let go of you, waiting for you to get up, but not pressuring you stand immediately. 

You moved off of him and stood shakily, reaching a hand out to help him up regardless of your unstable footing. He took it and hoisted himself up to his feet before turning to Felisha. 

"Bye, Felisha. I'm leaving early." With that, he tugged your hand gently and began guiding you out the building. At the moment, however, you weren't paying attention to any of this. You brain felt thick and empty at the same time. Your eyes saw, your feet moved, but you weren't processing any of it.

The wave of dissociation after the emotional ride overtook you. The blur of passing objects outside the car window was a like a foreign language, you knew it was there, but you couldn't fathom it. You were thinking, but what were you thinking about? Were you ever thinking? Was there anything to think about?

Despite the obliviousness to your surroundings, you were uncomfortably aware of the bags under your eyes, the dried tears on your face, the stuffiness of your nose, the beginnings of a headache behind your eyes, the sick feeling of having cried too much. There was a painful awareness of the heaviness of your legs even if you didn't know where they carried you, the pit in your stomach, the disgusting slimy feeling in your throat that made you want to vomit but not actually vomit.

The strange combination of dissociating and sensory overload. Perfect combination for a panic attack. Thankfully, your mind was too drained to stoke up more pain.

The sound of the car door opening beside you only barely registered in your ears. A faint warmth wrapped your hands as someone helped you out the car and into a building. However, there was no faint fear, no little alarms ringing at the back of your mind, no red flags flashing behind your eyes.

Was it because you were safe? Or because you didn't care anymore? Was that it? Did your numbness override your safety lessons? Did the shock completely shut down all your self-preservation instincts?

Wait... Where were you again? Something about Harry... Did it matter? It didn't feel like it mattered. What was this place? It was an elevator. There was someone with you. Who was it?

Your head felt too heavy to lift, and you didn't have that much of an urge to lift it anyways. What was the point? But there was a warmth in your hand. A familiar shakiness, one that made your heart flutter feebly. What was it? You focused your vision on the warmth.

A hand. One knew very well. One that fit well with your own. One that intertwined with your fingers as if they were always holding them. Only one person's hand fit like this with yours. Harry. 

Where were you going with Harry? Were you at work? No, you couldn't hold hands at work, that was unprofessional. But you couldn't hold hands in public either, it would be a scandal. So where were you? Were you at your house? No, you didn't want to go back to your house. You didn't want Harry to meet your father again. You didn't want to see your father again. By now he'd be frustrated and tired from staring at the computer screen. You didn't want to go back home yet.

But if you weren't home, where were you? You felt the tiny urge to ask the person beside you. To lift your head and look at him. So you did. With a bit of struggling, you managed to raise your head to look at Harry. He noticed, and returned the attention.

"Where are we going, Harry?" Your voice was unusually soft, tired. It was so quiet you thought he didn't hear you. 

"Did you forget? We're going to my place. We're almost there." The elevator ding proved his words correct. 

"Follow me, (Y/n)." With his hand still in yours, he led you into his stunning penthouse. In its glittering magnificence, it was too bright for you. You squinted at the polished floors, the smell of cleaning supplies and old coffee assaulting your nose. That along with the gnawing exhaustion pulling at your eyes and clawing at your limbs, was a bit too much. 

"Come on, you're probably really tired." 

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A/n: So...... Sup? I didn't die, dunno if that's good or bad. I can't say sorry cuz that won't turn back time, but I hope I can start posting chapters more regularly.

Just take care of yourselves please. Eat food, drink water, get some sleep. Try to stay off social media every once in a while, read something fulfilling. Do stuff you like to do, try stuff you're interested in, even if only a little. And take care of yourselves. That's it.