Flight risk. [h.s]

039. pt 2.

I pause, my lips parting slowly.

My stomach churns and it's certainly not because of the seafood linguine that I have been eating this evening.

I blink, looking out at the purple clouds which are bewitchingly blending into magenta.

"-Is this you b-breaking up with me?"

Across from me, Harry wipes the corner of his lips with a white napkin. The small orange stain from the tomatoey pasta tarnishes the white cloth and as he drops it back down onto the table with a sigh, Harry shakes his head and curses under his breath.

"Fuck–" He mumbles in amongst the small bouts of laughter. "This is definitely not me breaking up with you, Trouble. Promise–"

I smile at him, tipping my head and lifting my own white napkin off the short white summer dress that I was wearing.

The chill rolls through me, cooling every single part of me to the bone but despite the goosebumps that scrub over my arms, I don't say that I am cold.

"Here–" Seeing the shiver that rocks my body subtly, Harry begins to shrug off the slightly oversized blazer jacket.

Immediately, he stands from his chair and rounds the table to lay his jacket over my shoulders. His heavy hands land, giving my shoulders a soft pinch while the remnants of his body heat, trapped inside of the jacket, warm me up.

"Thank you," I mumble, my mind still spinning at where this ominous conversation is heading. "-You were saying... about the endings?"

"Right," He nods, his voice quivering as he hovers awkwardly beside the table instead of sitting back down on the chair he was in.

I look up at him, half of his face glowing with the orange tinge of the sunset that bursts from the sky.

"I mean, I like the endings of things. I find them majestic in their own bitter way. Endings are– endings are like enabling new beginnings in some profound way and I think. I think we had to end back then to be able to begin again, you know?"

I nod, a dainty smile twisting on my lips.

My eyes squint when I realise that he is still standing, sort of pacing up and down the length of the freshly cut grass between the grape vines.

"I know," I tell him weakly. "H, why are you pacing?"

Reaching out, I delicately take his hand. My fingers brush against his palm as I carefully hold his hand and offer my most supporting smile. The palm of his hand is sweaty, clammy and sticky as he lets me take it and give it a squeeze.

"I um–" He shakes his head with a dreary smile before softly squeezing my hand back. "-I'm just a little nervous, that's all–"

"Nervous?" I query hesitantly.

I have this impending doom feeling once again flitting into my chest. It tightens as that serenity that I was getting used to today is pried from between my clawed fingertips that try to desperately hold onto that feeling from before.

The free floating feeling that makes me feel like I am living on cloud nine.

"Why are you nervous?"

He smiles, an anxious laugh flushes his cheeks red.

Stepping forward, Harry presses his index finger against my lips which seem to butterfly around his digit with a firm grip.

"I just– I need to do and say something and I need you to be quiet for a little while which I know is going to be hard for you because you seem to have an answer for everything these days but–" Sucking in a sharp breath, his dimple pops into his cheeks. "-Can you do that for me?"