The Finest Line [h.s]

chapter 16- cherry

harry's pov

Jackson.

A friend. He had come and gone many years ago. He caused Allie pain.

I had minimal information about the man, it was clear that whoever he was to Allie, he had caused her pain.But from what I was given, I could piece together the puzzle pieces and arrange them to something that would come in some form of a coherent relationship. I knew three things.

One: Whoever this 'Jackson' person was to Allie, it was in the past. Something that had been moved on from in some form, maybe not fully.

Two: They had some form of a relationship that would constitute a former friend or lover to feel obvious guilt over his death.

Three: He had died. I vaguely remember Allie talking briefly about a guy who she was really good friends with that died in high school. He possibly could be the reason that her anxiety occupied such a big space in her life. When I would ask about her anxiety, she would always give morsels of information at a time and then promptly clam up or change the topic. There was always some form of hesitation, even after admitting that there were stronger feelings that flooded between us long ago.

But for some reason, after I had been the one to hurt her, she had become more honest. She had become bolder. She was stronger. And honestly, I could die a happy man if I knew that I had contributed to her becoming as confident with the world as she was with me.

Everyone in the world deserved to know Allie as she was, not the quiet person who would only talk in conversations if she was invited into them. But since last August, she had grown into something completely raw and truthful that I could only dream of being in this lifetime.

I wish I could be as honest as her.

That would be my next personal endeavor, both mentally and physically. I wanted to be more honest with the way that I felt and how I interacted with people, moving past whatever concrete walls stood in my way. I wanted to be completely and utterly raw with what I wrote so that whoever was listening would know that whatever shit they are dealing with right now; they aren't alone.

I would be more honest about my feelings towards everything.

But if I was being honest to myself right now, I was feeling jealous.

It was a... nostalgic feeling? Trying to understand the grief that someone was going through with dealing with the loss of any kind was a familiar feeling of mine.

Loss of family. Loss of a friend. Loss of a relationship.

And maybe Allie had lost two of those in one person, which was worse than any pain imaginable. But the fact that whoever this guy was to her, had been such an important figure in her life that even years after she still felt the pain.

Allie still had her walls up for me, even if they had crumpled a bit within the last day that we had been together. She was driving us back to her parent's house now, midnight quickly approaching after we stopped for Chinese for dinner and ate it while sitting on the curb. Allie momentarily would share small stories about Jackson and her father and then not talk for another five minutes until something would come to her mind and something would spark inside of her to share just a little bit more with me. Tid-bits of information that would somewhat let me into the light that was her past, but not allowing me to be blinded in fear that my vision may never return back to normal if she let me.

Sitting on the sidewalk, faces dimly lit by the streetlamps that are planted into the concrete about every forty feet or so, munching on the sesame chicken that we were both sharing out of the paper container; accompanied by the humid August breeze that would brush past us every couple of minutes.