Drowning

Forty;

"Baby, I'm gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine. You can't just never go back to work again, and neither can I." I sigh down the phone to Zahara, who had already called me six times since leaving for work half an hour ago.

"Are you sure you don't feel unwell in any way? Does your head hurt at all? Do-"

"Zahara," I chuckle. "I'm fine. It's been six weeks since the incident now, baby. I'm literally back to normal," I say.

"Okay," she says, sounding unsure. "I'll call you on my break, okay?"

"Okay, angel. I look forward to it." I smile, because despite having heard from her six times already this morning, it wasn't enough and, truthfully, I missed her.

"Bye, Harry. Love you."

"Love you more, Zar." I say, before hanging up the phone.

Somehow, Zahara had maintained her job, despite having had the past six weeks off because of me. They were understanding of her situation, and had a supply fill in for the weeks she was gone. Though, technically, the past two weeks she could've attended, but she refused because she, apparently, 'couldn't leave my side'. It was sweet, and I appreciated it because I felt a lot more safe with her by my side.

My training schedule was yet to be picked back up. I had another two weeks before the hospital were going to just about allow me to return to my routine- or some of my old routine. It had to be watered down for a while, just whilst I readjusted. I hated it; I hated sitting still, feeling stagnant, empty. But, as Bill had told me countless times, being alive and healthy was a blessing and if that blessing meant waiting a couple of more weeks, then so be it. I was still the champion, and I'd be fine by the next championships, too- touch wood. So, in the grand scheme of things, it was minor. Still, this was hard to remember when boxing was second nature.

Disrupting me from my travelling thoughts, my door began to knock. The sound somehow caused a pang of panic to fill me. Calm down, Harry. Security are leaving tomorrow, not today. They're still there.

I stood from my sofa where I had been sitting, and walked slowly towards the door, like a teenage girl in a horror movie. Once I approached the door, heart racing in my chest, I tried to look through the slightest crack between the door and the frame, but to no avail.

"Harry? You in?" Luke.

With a massive sense of relief, I opened up the front door to my best friend.

"Oh thank fuck," I sigh, embracing the tall blonde in a hug.

"You okay, mate?" Luke asks, hugging back.

"Yeah, yeah. Just- never mind," I mumble, giving him a quick squeeze before pulling away.

"Are you sure?" he asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Yeah, man. Just wasn't expecting you, that's all." I say.

Luke walked further into my apartment, and I made sure to slam the door closed behind him, to ensure that it was completely closed. I quickly swiped the lock across, too.

"Harry," Luke sighs. "What was that?"

"What was what?" I ask, pretending to be clueless.

"The lock on the door."

"Well, it locks the door." I scoff.

"Why, though?"

"Habit. Always done it." I lie.

"Mate, no you haven't," Luke chuckles softly.

"Want some tea?" I offer. "Coffee?" I say, turning away and walking towards my kitchen.