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Every part of me hopes you walk through the door
Avery wasn't sure what happened at the beach. After Harry answered his phone, he had turned very quiet, only telling her that they had to get back immediately. They paid the bill soon after and were in the car in seconds. Harry had only told her that Francis was in the hospital. She kept quiet after that, she knew how much he had meant to him, and there wasn't much that was good to say in situations like these.
The drive back to her flat seemed far shorter than the drive to the beach. Harry bid her a quick goodbye before speeding off to the hospital.
She was about to unlock the front door when a voice startled her. "Excuse me," Avery jumped back in freight, holding the keys close to her chest as she turned around. It was the girl she sometimes passed on the street, Oliver's actual owner. Shit.
"Hi," Avey smiled slightly, straightening her posture slightly. It had been so easy to talk to Harry that she was starting to get used to it. She had almost forgotten how awkward she usually was in social interactions. "Can I help you?"
"I think so," The girl continued, she didn't look angry or mad in the slightest. "I'm looking for my cat, his name is Jasper. He's one of those mixed grey cats and I think I saw him crawl through your window last night. I'm so sorry, but do you mind checking to see if he is inside for me? He might be underneath a table or chair."
"Uhm... yeah, I'll have a look. Just a second, please." She murmurs before disappearing into her flat. The first thing that her eyes fall onto is Oliver, or Jasper. "Hey bub," Avery carefully picks him up, letting her hand come down to scratch his ear. "Your owner is looking for you, so I've got to give you back," She whispers. "But please come by soon, I like having you here." Oliver didn't react, She didn't expect him to either.
"Found him." Avery smiles after she opens the door to the very anxious owner. It confused her as to why she was here now, Oliver has spent many nights at her flat and never has his owner come around looking for him.
"Thank you so much," The girl smiled, taking the cat into her arms, "I usually let him roam the streets, he used to be a stray, but since it's getting colder out I'm getting more worried about having him outside overnight."
"Well, it's good that you two are back together again, then," Avery replied awkwardly, immediately regretting her words, thinking they sounded more forceful than anything.
"Yeah, thank you again, Have a nice evening." She thanked her one more time before descending the stairs with Avery's emotional support system resting snuggly in her arms.
She shuffled back into her flat. Now she was alone. No cat. No Harry. Just herself. She hadn't been all by herself for a while, and though she was no stranger to it, she was surprised by how much it bothered her. She turned on the TV to drown out some of the silence and started to heat the kettle. Breakfast At Tiffany's was playing as she put a tea bag in her cup, sitting down on her couch to watch Holly absolutely wreck her apartment until the tea was done steeping.
At around 1 am, Harry sent her a text. The chime of her phone startled her.
Hey, I'm sorry for being out of it earlier. Are you alright? H
I'm fine, don't worry about me :) How is Francis?
He's okay, he always is. He has to stay at the hospital for another night, he hasn't been there in a while. Is Oliver with you?
Nope, his owner came by looking for him when I got home. She saw him come through my window last night.
What did you do?
I gave him back. I didn't tell her that he spends most of his time here. His real name is Jasper, can you imagine? Giving a cat that is clearly destined to be called Oliver the name Jasper.
Jasper really doesn't suit him.
No, it doesn't.
~
It was 2:30 am when Avery finished Breakfast at Tiffany's for the second time. She turned off the TV, getting up to make another cup of tea. As she waited for the water to boil, her gaze settled upon her bedroom. She could see her opened bedroom door from her spot in the kitchen, the wall in front of the counter having a window of sorts that overlooked most of the flat.
She walked slowly to the white door, pushing on it lightly, almost as if to not startle something inside the dark room. Her unmade bed seemed to be taunting her now, daring her to try and sleep. But she knew all too well that that was never going to happen. Not tonight anyway. It's too quiet.
After leaving her room, closing the door behind her, she made her way to the balcony. The balcony itself was small, only sporting a coupe of overgrown house plants and a small wicker chair. Her objective was to find her usual late night company. Oliver. She let her eyes roam over the empty streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of the cat, but he was nowhere in sight.
Going back inside after a short while, leaving the door open a small bit in case Oliver decided to show up later in the night, she roamed through the rooms of her apartment. Looking at the books on her shelves she didn't remember buying, and plugging in a CD player that had long since been broken, hoping that it would work.
She sat down at the piano and tried to recreate Harry's movements, but she had forgotten half of them and it didn't sound right. She knew why she was doing this, she was looking for a distraction. Looking for something that would distract her from that feeling inside of her that she had temporarily pushed back, but it was up front and center now, ready to swallow her whole.
As she heard the kettles' loud cries, she made her way to the kitchen and grabbed a different cup from the cupboards before grabbing another tea bag, her hands starting to shake.
I hate myself she thought over and over again, her trembling hands losing grip on the mug, sending it down to the ground, the porcelain shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces on her kitchen floor as a steady stream of tears began to fall down the soft skin of her cheeks.
