Italy In The Spring [h.s]

13

Harry and I did not talk to each other the next day.

In fact, we didn't talk for the next week and a half.

Every time I would try to catch him or talk to him, he would dart out of the room or come up with an excuse as to why he couldn't. I would even try to go into his room at night, but the door would always be locked, and my heart would sink even lower.

He's avoiding me.

Not talking to him these past ten days has hurt worse than the past two years. It's the fact that he's here, under the same roof, only a few feet away from me at all times, and he won't even speak to me. Nothing except for a few mumbled words and maybe two seconds worth of eye contact.

And god, does it fucking hurt. So bad. Worse than anything else in this world.

"What's wrong with you?" Liam nudges my shoulder, snapping me out of the self-pity hole I had fallen down.

I look up from my plate, locking eyes with Harry who is sitting straight across from me. We all went out for breakfast this morning at a cute little café that had only been a twenty-minute drive. Even as we rode in the car, Harry still never said a word.

"Nothing. 'M just tired," I half-lie. I am tired. I haven't been sleeping very well since the night I came back to see that Harry had beaten the shit out of Timothée. Especially not now since he hasn't been talking to me.

"You've got bags under your eyes darker than the hole in Liam's heart," Louis remarks from the end of the table.

I hear Liam kick him from under the table and can't help but let a small smile grace my lips. "I know. I haven't been sleeping well, is all. It's fine," I shrug my shoulders and glance at Harry again. He's looking down at his plate.

"You toss and turn all night," Timmy pipes up from beside me and I cut my eyes to him. "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe it's because I have too many fucking things on my mind," I reply with a flat tone, narrowing my eyes at him.

His face is slowly starting to heal, but he still looks like complete and utter shit. He gets constant glances everywhere we go and he can only sleep on his back. I'm guessing he deserved the beating Harry gave him. I made him sleep on the couch for three nights in a row before letting him come back into the bedroom with me.

"Let's not turn this breakfast into something unpleasant, okay?" Liam chips in before Timmy can open his mouth the reply.

I release a deep breath and push my barely eaten plate away from me, no longer having an appetite. Harry flicks his eyes up at me and down to my plate, a crease forming between his eyebrows once he sees I've only eaten two bites of my food. He meets my eyes, a question hiding behind his gaze.

"You need to eat," he tells me with his eyes, not speaking a word.

"I'm not hungry," I reply back with a shake of my head, keeping my lips sealed.

I can't help but laugh inside once I realize this is the most we've spoken to each other in ten days and we're not even talking.

"Please, eat."

Rolling my lips into my mouth, I look away from him and out the window, cutting off our telepathic communication. Or whatever the fuck that was.

Seconds later, something nudges at my feet and I look under the table to see Harry tapping his shoe against mine. My eyes flick up to see him still staring intently at me, motioning at my plate for me to eat. I shake my head yet again and look away, crossing my arms over my chest and scooting away from the table just enough to where his feet can't reach mine.