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I'm drowning here, and you're describing the water
Avery didn't sleep that night. Her thoughts kept on drifting back to that moment earlier in the apartment. Harry was so close to her that she was almost sure she could have felt his breath fan over her face. She remembers the phone call. Who had called him? Why did his mood change so much after he had gotten the call?
At some point, the neighbor's cat, Oliver, had scratched the glass of her balcony window. She had let him in, as he was usually what kept her company on the numerous late nights. He was now perched upon her counter, eating the leftover scrambled eggs Avery had cooked earlier that morning.
The cat made her feel far less lonely. She would sometimes talk about her nightmares to him, just to talk out loud to something. He belongs to a woman who always gave Avery a smile whenever they would pass each other on the street, but they had never actually talked to one another. She wondered if the girl knew about how much time Oliver spent with her.
Some nights, everything was too overwhelming. Everything would come down all at once and hit her hard. The sleep deprivation, what had happened to her, how alone she actually felt. She didn't know how to cope with it, not properly anyway.
There were times that simply laying on the floor, hoping that it would all go away, wouldn't help. She would close her eyes and be back in the cellar with her mother. All of the fear and pain she had bottled up over the years washing over her again. It was harsh and unexpected. There was nothing she could do about it.
Half past 10 the next morning, Harry was standing outside of her door. She couldn't help but notice that he looked tired and worried. Worry wasn't something that looked good on him, she refrained from mentioning that to him.
"I'm sorry about last night." Was the first thing Avery had said after she let him inside.
"Don't be sorry, Ave," Harry replied. She poured him a cup of tea before making one for herself. She sat down next to him on her couch, leaving an exceptional distance between them.
"I didn't know you had a cat." His voice sounded so different. Exhausted, raw, and just...sad. The usual light in his persona was nowhere to be found, and Avery would be lying if she said that it didn't scare her. She watched as Harry's eyes followed Oliver through the room.
"He's not mine, he just visits sometimes."
They both just sat there for a while, neither had anything to say. There wasn't much they could have said, both sharing the same emotions that morning as the rising sun slowly flooded Avery's apartment. They knew the other was troubled, neither knew the reasons for the other's sadness, and frankly neither had the energy to try to approach the topic in its actuality.
Somewhen, Harry broke the silence. "My friend had a doctor's appointment today and your flat was nearby." He didn't look at her while he spoke, and he wasn't searching for a response if she wasn't willing to provide one. "Did you sleep?"
"No," She took a sip of her peppermint tea. "I wasn't able to,"
"Someday, are you going to tell me why you don't sleep?"
"I don't know. Is there going to be a 'Someday'?''
Harry turned his gaze towards her. "I care for you, Ave. I told you that last night, of course, there is going to be a someday."
Her heart skipped a beat. It had been so long since she had someone she could talk to. She couldn't remember the last time that she had someone that she could feel close to. "Okay." She managed a smile for him and so did he.
"Is everything okay with your friend?" Avery carefully questioned. Treading the water lightly.
"Francis? Yes. He's going to be fine." And with that, the topic was off the table. She didn't ask any more questions.
"Are you writing anything at the moment?"
"Last night I thought I might start a story about Oliver, the cat."
A chuckle left his lips. "What is it going to be about?"
"Just Oliver and his boring life, I don't think he does much. He sleeps a lot, but I never see him doing anything besides sleeping and eating. Sometimes he dreams, and I think he dreams about catching a rat."
"A rat? Is that even part of his diet? A mouse, maybe, but a rat?"
"What can I say? He's got big dreams."
" Oliver the fat cat dreams of catching a rat by Avery. I like it."
"Hey! He's not fat."
~
After leaving Avery's flat, Harry walked back to the clinic, where he had dropped Francis off earlier that morning. He had already organized a cab and hoped that it would be there on time. Luckily, the cab was waiting outside when he arrived. Francis already sat inside.
"Everything good?"
Francis nodded but didn't say a word. During the ride back to their flat, they kept quiet, looking out separate windows, as to not worsen the already heavy atmosphere. Somewhen, Harry noticed his friends shaking hands. Reaching over, he took them into his own. Francis didn't say anything to object, nor did he pull away.
Maybe this was a desperate attempt for Harry to show that he was there for Francis. He was right here. He wasn't going anywhere. But, he had no way of knowing if he knew that. Or, if he did, if he believed it.
