Trial and Error

Rosie

I walked alongside Harry in the crowded streets of New York. He said nothing, keeping his head down as he stared as his shoes as we walked. 

He had changed from his workout clothes into jeans and a hoodie and wore a leather jacket over top. 

I frowned, "you need to tell me about this fight."

He looked at me, "do I though?"

I looked at him again, "if you want me around for a while, then yes."

He sighed and looked at me warily, "Rosie, look-"

"No, Harry," I said, "if you really want me around in your life then I need to know. I'm not saying tell me now obviously, but this is something that will have to be out in the open eventually. I don't even know what's so bad about street fighting but the way you and Jack were acting makes me feel like there's something else here that you aren't telling me."

He looked at me for a second and looked ahead, reaching over to link his fingers with mine, giving my hand a small but brief squeeze before he let go. I looked at him, waiting for his response. 

"There is something more," he muttered, "but I'm not going to tell you what it is until I know you're safe."

"I'm in danger?" I asked, confused at his logic. He rose an eyebrow and looked at me.

"Do you not remember the guy who's basically been stalking you at your diner lately or...did I just dream him up?" he retorted. I pursed my lips and said nothing.

"I have nothing to worry about though, right?" I asked, "I mean, you're here."

He sighed and shrugged, reaching up to scratch the back of his head, "yeah but I mean, what if there comes a time when I'm not with you? I'm training, or you're at work, or school when you start back up again."

"Then I'll just text you. Every hour!" I chirped, proud at my idea of making things work between us. He chuckled and sadly shook his head. 

"We shouldn't have to maintain a relationship like this where you text me every hour just to let me know you're safe, Rosie," he whispered, "do you not see the problem with that?"

I bit my lip and nodded, "yeah, I guess...but please let me come to this fight you have on Friday."

His eyes widened as he looked at me and shook his head wildly, "no, absolutely not."

I stopped walking in the street, causing him to stop and look at me.

"You are not fighting me on this, Rosie," he said, "you heard Jack too. The less you stay in this world the better. It's dangerous."

"I need to be near you," I said, "I need to know you'll be safe at this fight. What if you get really hurt?"

"Don't worry, Rosie," he replied, stepping closer to me. He raised his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and gently cupped my cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth before he smiled softly.

"I have Jack," he said, "I'll be okay."

I frowned and looked away, biting my lip as worry flooded through me. We had spent these years apart and every day, I remembered the sadness that would rush through me as I wondered where he was and who he was with. I had always hoped that he was able to move on peacefully and was now going to school somewhere. 

I always pictured the day I would see him in my head:

I'd be walking down the street. It would be a cold, fall day and I'd have my grey trench coat on. I'd have my bag on my shoulder and my hands tucked in my coat pockets to keep them warm. My hair would be down and blowing in the wind and I'd walk down the streets on my way to the diner. 

That's when I'd see him.

He'd be sitting there. Corduroy pants, striped shirt and brown sweater vest. His hair, brown and curly, and slightly parted down the middle. He'd be sitting with his hands clasped as he'd gaze out in the streets with a hopeful glint in his eyes, coffee cup sitting in front of him along with a bouquet of roses. 

I'd stop in my tracks, completely shocked to see him there. The face that would always emerge when I closed my eyes but fade soon as I would open them. The face that never left my memory, even in the darkest of times, as it was the only thing that would give me peace. The face that brought me so much joy, but so much grief at the same time.

That face. But older, more rugged. 

I'd watch as his head would turn to the entrance and he'd smile brightly as he stood up, picking up the flowers and watching as an unknown girl walked up to him and hugged him tightly. He'd pull away and hand her the flowers, watching her smile brightly as his own began to form on his face, and he'd scratch his head shyly before gesturing for her to sit down. The girl would have her blonde hair tucked behind her ears and stare at him with the same look of adoration I used to give him.

I would watch, sad that he found someone else, but happy that he had moved on from his life and was now healthy and hopefully successful. I'd slowly back away from the window, keeping my eyes on them now holding hands from across each other and speaking in deep conversation, before I'd break my gaze from them. I'd continue walking down my original path as I'd wonder how he came to be in New York, who he was living with, what he was doing, and most importantly how he was doing. 

And then at last, tears would fill my eyes as I would begin to realize that along with his parent's death, I had now transformed into a memory for him; just something that reminded him of his sad past, while he was still the hope I had left of reconciliation with mine. 

"Rosie?" he said, startling me out of my thoughts. I looked at him, to see him staring back at me with questioning green eyes.

"I'm fine," I smiled, shaking my head and blinking furiously as I looked down at my shoes. I looked back up at him and extended my hand, smiling as he took it. 

"I won't come to the fight on Friday," I said, as we began to walk again, "but can you please come over afterwards at least?"

He bit his lip, "I'll be pretty bruised up, Rosie."

"That's okay," I shook my head, "I just want to make sure you'll be okay. Please?"

After my mind had imagined that scenario in my head, all I wanted was for him to be next to me as much as possible. The dread that filled my heart at even imagining that possible scenario was not something I'd like to even think about again and because of that I was desperate to have him near; especially when he was off doing something incredibly dangerous beside me. 

It made me think too. 

The Harry in my imagination was happy and living a safe and good life. But the Harry I saw in front of me now, was struggling, aimless and trapped in a world that he probably did not want anything to do with in the first place. 

I could get him out. I could get him to go back to school and we could move away from all of this. I could find a way to help him leave whatever spider web he found himself caught in, and we could have that life; the one where he's waiting for me at the café with flowers and not someone else. 

I'm sure we could. 

I just had to find a way first. 

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Comment and vote, please! What do you think will happen at the fight Friday?

Love,

S.