Silver and Cold |h.s.|

17. Paper Hearts

The next several days went by in a blur. Each insignificant day blended into the next and each night you did your absolute best to sleep through the shouts from the other room. It was almost louder, here in the guest bedroom where you kept yourself locked away in the hours that Harry wasn't at work.

You'd discovered that he was a music teacher of sorts, tutoring little kids at the local elementary school in guitar and of course the anger you felt towards him softened only the tiniest bit at the news. You'd only figured it out because one of his students had written him a very sweet note that he'd accidentally left folded up on the kitchen table. The way it had lain there you had secretly hoped he'd written you a note but as you'd unfolded it and seen the little scribbles of gratitude your heart had clenched and softened.

He was a kind man. Despite the walls he put up now, he was still that kind soul you'd fallen for.

In the days that followed your argument, if one could call it that, you'd avoided Harry at all costs. His comment about finding your family had hit you like a punch to the stomach.

He wanted you gone and you didn't know how to process that. So you skulked around and hid in the guest room whenever he came home. You'd hear him tap on your door and leave food there for you but you'd wait until long after he went to bed to go pick up your dinner from the floor.

Yes, you and Harry were dancing the wonderful waltz of avoidance.

Harry was on his last strand of patience with you though.

He'd had far too much time to think about everything. His mind kept flickering back to you abandoning him almost a month ago. He still has your note for him in his bedroom. He'd look at it every night wondering what it was he had done wrong to make you go away and he's sure you have a perfectly reasonable explanation but somehow it just makes him madder.

Why couldn't you have told him all of this when you'd first appeared naked outside of his home? He feels stupid now. He feels like a complete idiot who should have put it all together long ago.

He feels like he's been made to be a fool.

See the thing is, Harry's ex girlfriend Melissa used to call him that. She'd tell him he was too emotional, too weak, too self centered, and an utter fool and now those words are just playing on a loop in his head.

He can't seem to get rid of them and all you've done is stay locked in his guest bedroom and completely given up on him.

Just like everyone else.

On Monday morning you woke up slowly. You'd cried into your pillow the entire night because Harry had continued to thrash and yell in his sleep and there was nothing you could do to help him anymore. You'd decided it was time for you to go. It was best if you just left now instead of putting yourself through this torture and pain over and over again. There wasn't a single shred of hope left for you two to work this out so, as you listened to Harry go about his morning routine, you made the bed and packed up the clothes he'd bought you and prepared to leave soon after he did.

Tears fell down your face as you wrote him a note that was now in your hand as you listened intently for the front door to shut and lock.

I'm sorry. Please don't blame yourself. Forget me.

You had kissed it before folding it up in your hand. Removing your collar from your neck and placing it on the bed was the worst part. It hurt, it all hurt, but you knew you were finally doing the right thing.

Just like every morning, the clock on your bedside table shown 8:45am and like clockwork, Harry walked across the length of the living room, opened the door and closed it, the lock flicking shut soon after.