Introspective Strangers [h.s.]

Chapter 62

I reached up, dragging my thumbs underneath his eyes to clear his cheeks of tears. "I want to go to France, Harry."

A noise made its way out from the back of his throat, like a wounded animal. "Why?"

"I want to find the independence that you pushed me to realize I needed. I want to put my work and education first. I want it to help me figure out what I want to do and who I want to be. You said earlier that you wanted me to be happy. That you'd do anything to make me happy... this is it. This is what will make me happy."

He dropped his head, averting his gaze to our knees, where he took a long breath. "Okay. Okay, fine." He looked back up at me, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. "I'll figure it out. I'll see if I can work remotely. I'll move there with you."

That same pain was exploding within me, constricting my chest. "You can't," the words were almost inaudible, more tears running down my face. "You can't come to France with me."

Harry looked like a piece of him had broken off. His grip on my waist slackened. "What?" His voice cracked. "You don't want me to come?"

"No," I said quickly, shaking my head and inching closer to him. His chest was against my knees. "No, that isn't it. I just... you have a life here, Harry. I don't want you to drop that life for me."

He swallowed hard. "May, I don't give a fuck about the life I have here. I want you. That's it. I'll go wherever the fuck I need to go–"

"Harry," I said again softly.

His nostrils flared and he set his lips into a flat line, drawing his hands back to my knees. "No, fuck. Stop that. Don't do that. You know I would follow you anywhere–"

"I don't want you to abandon your life here–"

"Marry me." He said suddenly.

My eyes widened. It took me a few seconds to process what he had said, before I violently shook my head, opening and closing my mouth a few times in an attempt to find the right words to respond. "I – what? No."

"Please," Harry's tone had grown slightly erratic. He grabbed my hands, scanning every inch of my face with his eyes. "Please," he pleaded again, tightening his grip. "Let's get married. I'll come with you to Europe. We can spend every day together. Then I won't be abandoning anything, just following my wife."

I stared at him for a few seconds, wondering if he had gone completely insane, before softly breathing, "I'm not going to marry you."

He swallowed thickly, tears welling in his eyes. His arms unlinked themselves from my hands, wrapping back around my waist. "I just don't understand." His voice cracked. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," the urgency in my tone was apparent. I threaded my fingers through his hair, insistent in my word. "Nothing, Harry. At all. I promise. I love you. So fucking much."

"Is it not enough? Am I not enough?" He tilted his head up to mine, eyes red-rimmed and full of tears. "What can I do?"

That heart that had already been struggling to beat unaided, feeling sheltered from Harry's love, splintered once more.

"Nothing," I cooed, scratching reassuring fingers over his scalp. "Absolutely nothing. I don't want you thinking that. Please. I love you just the way you are."

His voice was pure dejection – nothing more than a soft breath as he asked, "Then why do you want to leave?"

My shoulders dropped. "I don't. God, I don't. At all but..." Words seemed to not be enough at this point. I wished that he could see into my head, to know exactly what I was thinking and feeling. "I think... I think I just need to figure out who I am on my own for a little while. You've shown me so much, Harry. You've made me grow, taught me that it's okay to prioritize myself. I need to figure out what that means for who I am, you know?"