Candy [h.s.]

eight

Harry POV

I love the atmosphere of Taste of Heaven.

No one here knows who I am and what I do outside of these walls, but I feel like I'm everyone's friend when I walk in here. They know my order and usually get it started when they see me walk through the door, it makes me adore these people. This run down diner feels like such a safe haven.

I wish that it didn't have to be a safe space. I wish I could just feel safe again.

Coming here alone is out of my ordinary, but I think I quite like it since all of the waitress's attention has to land on me.

I do genuinely want to help her. I didn't like seeing her so upset the other day; she doesn't deserve to ever feel like that. I just want to help her in any way that I can, and this is the only way that I can think of to offer her any sort of assistance.

I am weary of bringing her into my side of the world and crossing over my two lives and possibly ruining the only thing that makes me feel any level of safety. I don't want to fuck up the relationship, or whatever it is that we have between us, that I have with the girl by soiling her and bringing Bri into her life. I have a feeling that this is going to end badly, but at this point, anything to be around the diner girl more. This is apparently a risk that I am willing to take.

I honestly am not sure why it's so hard for me to keep myself away from this girl. I don't think that I even feel anything for her except for the blind hatred that I feel when she rolls her brown eyes at me. I also wouldn't mind feeling how I did when I was pressed up against her more often. Her body pressed up against mine made my stomach churn, but in the best way possible. I felt like I was about to throw up once I noticed her eyes gazing up my body and as I watched her study the ink stained on my arms. I want to tell her what they all mean and why I have them, but I have a feeling that she wouldn't give a fuck.

This is why I'm so confused.

I want to tell her everything and I want to be able to understand every intricate part of her brain, but I also feel an intense rage build inside of me when I notice her walking towards me without a nametag on or when her face forms that visage of disdain that I see wash over her when she sees me.

Her hatred seems like a mask to cover some deeper emotions that she isn't ready to deal with quite yet.

I want to be the one to uncover those feelings, but I don't know if I could stand being around her long enough to rip away at those layers.

Each step that I take closer to the diner only makes me hate myself even more and forces me to fall even deeper into the pit of confusion that I am stuck in. I know that I shouldn't be here but I need to be in a safe and familiar place tonight.

My wound has healed enough that I only wince when I bend to one side too much, but the pain is enough to remind me of what happened three days ago. I wish I could lash out at her. I wish that I could make her feel the pain that she forces me to deal with.

Swinging open the door was just the right amount of movement to make me clutch my side and wince at the pain shooting from my abdomen. My pain quickly fades away as I breathe in the familiar scent of roast and chips. The slight smile that peers over my lips is nothing but genuine.

I don't see the girl anywhere and it makes me wonder if she's even working tonight. This place serves as little comfort if she isn't here.