Trauma [H.S]

13

He let out a sigh, exhaling a puff of air from his mouth, and then took a deep breath "I didn't want to smoke with the hospital right beside us," he commented. "It would be quite ironic, don't y'think?"

I just nodded my head in response, trying my best to avoid the toxic gray smoke from entering my nose.

He went back to continue observing the view before him, exhaling more smoke. I watched him intently as his eyebrows furrowed slightly and his lips puckered with each exhale, accentuating his sharp jawline. His eyes squinted with every drag on his cigarette, while his elbows rested on his knees "y'know I don't usually smoke."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion "then why do you do it?"

He answered "because it calms me when I'm feeling anxious."

I wanted to ask why, but I realized that it might be too personal of a question for our new acquaintance. He seemed like he had more to say, but chose to remain silent, so I decided to let it go.

I sighed out before I changed the subject "why'd you bring me here, Harry?"

He answered without even glancing at me "because it's quiet and nice. I know you like those two traits."

I smiled at that. I do like quiet places. But how did he know that?

Maybe he just assumed, considering that I tried so hard to convince him that I didn't want to go to that party.

"Why do you care about me and call me all those nicknames? Why not just leave me to deal with everything alone. You've done your duty. You're free to go y'know." I couldn't help but ask.

I still haven't forgotten that he called me pretty, and that goddamn nickname, buttercup.

Why would anyone want to hang out with me in the first place?

He locked eyes with me, his expression serious and meaningful "I want to" he said earnestly "you're interesting, and I genuinely want to get to know you again if you'll allow me. I know this wasn't part of the deal, but I really want to spend more time with you, okay?"

"Oh... um, yeah, sure... that's absolutely fine," I stammered, unable to meet his gaze. My hands nervously fidgeted in my lap, and I could feel my cheeks flush.

Then it hit me like a brick.

What did he just say?

"Know me again? What are you talking about? What does that even mean?" I questioned in a panicky voice.

Harry shifted his body, turning sideways to face me. He draped one arm over the back of the bench, while his other hand rested on his lap after discarding his cigarette in the nearby trash bin.

He furrowed his eyebrows to match mine "you don't remember?"

"remember what?! I don't even know y-"

"yes you do! You do know me. Or at least you used to." He interrupted me with a sigh.