Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 55

Only when Tuesday evening rolled around, another day where I hadn't gone to work both because I was still feeling a little out of it and because I didn't want to leave until things with Harry had been rectified, did I decide I was finally going to approach him. I had just gotten out of the shower and was carefully making my way down the stairs, not sure if he'd gotten back yet, only to be stopped short when I heard voices.

I panicked, of course, nearly tripping over my own feet as I ran out into the kitchen, worried that for some reason Damien had come back and was going to kill Harry as reparation for the man he'd killed for me, only to be even more confused to see that there was no one there. No one except –

My eyes zeroed in on Harry, who was crouched down with his back to me, talking. Talking to himself, it seemed, until I got closer and realized that none other than Meatloaf stood in front of him, walking in circles and mewing loudly, grateful he was finally giving her attention for once. He'd just about completely ignored her these past few days and was now murmuring things under his breath that I couldn't quite catch, scratching behind her ears and rolling back and forth on the ground with his other hand a little tinfoil ball that she'd apparently become quite privy to when I dropped it earlier while making lunch.

"All those toys you bought for her," I said quietly, leaning against the counter, "and she chooses to play with garbage."

Harry stiffened, resting his elbows on his knees before glancing over at me. As his eyes had done every other time that he'd looked at me these past few days, they flitted first to my knees, and then to my palms – or attempted to anyway considering they were clamped together – before finally resting on my forearm. Everything was mostly healed now, just a few faint marks that would probably scar if I didn't stop touching them, but otherwise – I was okay. He was too, from what I could tell.

Swallowing hard, he got to his feet. "I was just about to head back out for a bit."

I looked at the clock on the stove, which read almost 7:30. My brows twitched together. "You are? Again?" What could he possibly be going back out to do? I knew probably nothing of importance, he just wanted more of a reason to avoid me again. He didn't respond, which got me a little irritated, so I blew out a sharp breath and said, "You might as well take me home while you're at it. I can grab my things–"

"What?" Now it was Harry's turn to look annoyed. "Why?"

For a moment, I just stared at him. "What do you mean why?"

"Why–" he shook his head. "Why do you want me to take you home?"

"Harry, you've barely spoken to me in days," I said gently, not wanting to upset him. Meatloaf came to circle around my feet. "You've hardly even looked at me. There's not really a point in staying here if you're just going to continue to ignore me–"

"I don't know what you want me to say, River," he clenched his jaw. "What kind of conversation are we supposed to have when you won't tell me the truth anyway?" He paused briefly. "I've been trying to respect the fact that you don't want to talk about whatever happened but that doesn't mean I'm automatically going to fucking forget."

"And I'm not telling you too," I responded earnestly, grateful he was even willing to say anything on the topic. "We don't even have to talk about that. Just anything–"

"Anything?" Harry asked incredulously, flattening a hand on the counter. "How the hell am I supposed to make casual conversation and talk about just anything when you're waking up in the middle of the night in hysterics and I can hardly even fucking look at you without–" he dragged a hand through his hair, "–without going insane about the fact that you're hurt and won't tell me why."