the spaces between us ➳ larry stylinson

chapter thirty-two

published on april 25, 2021

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Gemma looked up at Harry and motioned for him to sit down next to her on the couch. Harry obliged and awkwardly sat down on the empty spot next to his sister.

"Mum? Hey, what's going on?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned as to why she was crying.

Gemma patted Anne's back as she wiped her eyes and finally brought her head up to look at Harry. Her mascara was running down her cheeks and her hair was all over the place. She looked like she needed a hot bath and to sleep for a year. "H-Harry...dear," she started, but her voice broke and she started to cry harder. Gemma squeezed her tighter, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Mum, do you want me to tell him?" She whispered to Anne.

Anne shook her head and wiped her eyes again. "No, no; I'll tell him, thank you baby." She cleared her throat and looked directly at Harry. She grabbed his hands, which put Gemma (who was in the middle of the both of them on the couch) in an awkward position - but she didn't say anything. Anne squeezed Harry's hands and sniffed. "Er, how should I say this..."

"Mum, c'mon, just let it out. You're scaring me," Harry told his mother, because she truly was scaring him. The last time he saw her cry this hard was after she and Des got their divorce.

Anne took a shaky breath and squeezed Harry's hands even tighter, which was quite painful, but he didn't say anything. "O-okay...here we go. Harry, darling? I... I lost my job as a secretary at the hospital."

Harry let go of his mother's hands. What kind of sick joke was this? "Mum, don't joke about that - we all know how much your boss, and everyone at the hospital, loves you. What's really going on?" He asked, his voice coming out wobbly.

Anne let out another sob and buried her head in her hands. Gemma shot daggers at Harry and mouthed the words "she's not joking."

All of a sudden, Harry felt a strong surge of dizziness cast over him, and he gripped the armrest of the couch so hard that his knuckles turned white. He was afraid that if he let go, he'd pass out. He held on until the dizziness passed, and when it finally did, he felt like he was going to be sick.

Harry clutched his stomach and ran into the bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. He sat on the cool bathroom floor tile for a moment, head in his hands.

He thought he was going to puke, but he also felt empty inside. He wanted to scream and wreck everything in sight, but he also wanted to break down and cry. He wanted to hug his mother, but he also didn't want to see her cry again.

This wasn't happening. It was all some kind of freakishly real nightmare and if he pinched himself hard enough, Harry would wake up. So he tried, but nothing happened. He pinched himself harder and harder, until his arm was bright red.

He knew he'd have to leave the bathroom soon, but he physically couldn't move. He felt weak. Hopeless.

He managed to pull himself off the ground and was leaning against the sink for support. Harry looked at himself in the mirror and was astounded by his reflection. He was as white as a ghost, but when he pressed his hands to his cheeks, it felt like he was burning up. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, but the thing was, he couldn't remember ever shedding a tear. There were dark circles under his eyes that weren't there a few hours earlier. His hair had gone limp and was not its usual curly self.

Harry turned on the faucet to ice cold water and ran his hands under it, splashing some onto his face. He didn't need to be such a baby about this whole...situation. His mum would find a new job in no time.