invasato [h.s]

26

Just a warm, summer Italian night.

As I get out onto the roof, I sit just to the right of his window, looking out at the scenery as he climbs out of the opening.

He sits on the other side of the window sill, not directly next to me but only about a foot or two away with the whiskey grasped in his right hand.

I keep my eyes forward, but see him take a sip of whiskey out of my peripheral vision. Then, he holds the bottle out to me. I take it.

Bringing it to my lips, I remember how much I dislike whiskey. The strong spice and oaky flavour, it's gross...but it'll get me drunk.

Harry must have noticed my face pucker from the liquor, because he spoke right after I swallowed.

"You're not a drinker." he acknowledges.

I shake my head. "No, I'm not." I say, agreeing. I pass him the bottle and he takes it.

"So tell me why you're out here drinking with me?" he inquires, holding the bottle between his spread open knees.

I shrug, looking at the trees and bushes and the sun casting an orange reddish tint over them.

"It's pretty." I excuse.

He hums as he brings the bottle to his mouth. I find myself turning my head to look at him, watching as he clenches his teeth subtly as he swallows the drink.

"What about you?" I ask.

He closes his mouth and looks over at me briefly, sniffing. "What about me?"

I glance at the bottle. "Are you a drinker?"

He takes half a second to process my question, blinking and then looking down at the bottle, his nimble fingertips tapping the sides of it as he ponders.

Then, a small head shake.

"No." he answers with a mumble. "It's just...necessary sometimes, I guess."

Watching him gaze into the bottle as if there's a whole movie behind his eyes, I knew something was wrong—and I figured something was off when he walked into the bathroom gripping the bottle. He was gonna get drunk alone.

I may have no idea what's going on in his head right now, but I understand his urge to suppress...whatever he's feeling.

For me, I'm trying to suppress every single damned emotion I've felt today.

I hold my hand out for the bottle, and he passes it. Bringing it to my lips this time, I take a bigger sip.

"It really is pretty out here." I say as I gaze forward.

I love how the green of the trees is hitting the edge of the orange skyline. I love how the blue pool below is sitting among white tiles and grey concrete and then surrounded by green grass.

"Sure." Harry mumbles at my statement, looking forward as well.

I tilt my head to look at him. "You don't agree?"

He shakes his head with his brows creased, turning his own head to look at me. "I never said that, did I?"

I take another sip and I shrug. "Your tone implied it."

With his hands resting on either side of him, he just scoffs and looks back ahead of him with a small shake of his head. "You read into everything too much."

"Maybe," I mumble, "but you also suck at conveying emotion." I speak honestly, saying things I'd never normally say to his face.

He chuckles, palms on the roof as he looks forward. "Angela tells me the same thing."