Beyond the City [H.S.]

Chapter 11

"He'll be alright, you can head home," I heard Opal instruct Will as I stood at the top of the stairs. "Thanks for bringing my stuff in," she said softly. She shut and locked the door behind Will. I didn't miss his quick glance up to me and I nodded once to him, saying thanks.

An hour had passed since Opal showed and I started to feel better. I was afraid to tell her anything, though. I was afraid that if I did, it would have scared her away. The last thing I needed was for Opal to get scared and leave. I wanted Opal to lighten the rest of my days and get me out of the darkness that swallowed me when things reminded me of Sarah. Was that selfish? Yes. But if I could keep someone as compelling and unique as Opal for the rest of my life, that's a life worth living.

When I finally got to hug her, I didn't want to let go. When I opened the door to her standing there, I had to cling to her. I thanked Will a thousand times in my head. Eventually, Opal had led me to the bed and I just sat there, my head hung low as she rubbed my back. She didn't ask me to explain to her what was wrong. She didn't insist on me telling her anything, although she had done it before, but she could tell this was different. This was deeper.

"Do you need anything?" She asked in a small voice as she made her way up the stairs. Her eyes were filled with empathy, or even sympathy. Maybe she understood what it felt like to have an absolute mental breakdown on the same date every year. Or maybe she knew what it was like to watch someone you love die in front of your eyes. Maybe she could understand me afterall.

I shook my head, too scared to say anything as she left my view back down the steps and into the living room. I sat at the top of the stairs, my elbows on my knees as I cradled my head in my hand and listened as someone else existed in my house.

I heard her humming as she shuffled stuff around in my kitchen. I slowly made my way down the stairs, one hand stuffed into my sweatpants pocket and the other held onto the railing gently. Her humming continued and only progressively got louder as I made my way down the hallway and to the kitchen.

I leaned on the kitchen door frame and just watched her, watched Opal in my home like it was hers. She was filling up a glass of water from the tap when the floorboard squeaked underneath me and she spun around.

"Jesus, Harry," she scolded and clutched her chest. She had a small smile gracing her lips. "It's scary enough that it's practically pitch black outside your kitchen window. You can't just lurk like that."

"Sorry," I mumbled but chuckled. The sight of her leaning against my kitchen counter flooded me with comfort. I smiled as I took in how she looked; so tired but so beautiful. She knows where my house is now. No one besides Will had known. Except for whoever it was that broke in two weeks prior.

"Stop smiling at me," Opal teased and a blush covered her cheeks. She pushed herself away from the counter and made her way towards me and looked up at me sweetly as she brushed by. I watched her, shamelessly, walk away and took note how her hips swayed. Her feet padded against the runner that was placed on the floor in the long, white hallway. She turned to the left and disappeared into the living room.

"It's really quaint," she commented. I scoffed and made my way into the room and sat down on the edge of the couch. "I mean it!" She added and smiled back at me. She spun around on her heel to keep looking around. She took in the stacks of books on the desk and bookshelf, the small flatscreen on an old dresser, and the old dark green couch.

It wasn't decorated as nicely as Opal's apartment. It had older furniture and vintage decorations that I slowly collected. Some were even in the attic when I bought the place. She crossed her arms over her chest and walked around the small room. She ran her hand along the old wallpaper and looked at the papers that were taped above the old wooden writer's desk.