Timeless [h.s]

Fifteen

Miles was my first actual friend in many years; if he had been alive during my actual period of time, we probably would never develop anything but a respectful nodding pattern along the castle's corridors. My mother would rather die than watch my name be smeared by the rumours that a friendship with a male would bring upon us. It was almost comical, just how many realities I had lived. In my resting periods, just before falling asleep, I wondered how much my brain would take.

I remembered many things, but the longer I lived, the more my memories blurred, and years blending in like a poorly done collage. The most memorable things remained, but I was afraid I'd lose those to, some day. One time, I read something online that said we never remember the actual events of our lives, we just recall the last time we remembered them. Our memories are not fresh, they are just a Xerox of a Xerox of a Xerox, endlessly. Considering I had had three centuries of reminiscing, I sometimes doubted myself, wondering if the recollections inside my mind were truthful or just some time carved fabrication of events, as I wanted them to be.

"I would give my good ribs just to see inside your brain for a few seconds. Why so thoughtful, Char?" the voice hit me like a train, making my lazy heart work above its normal rate, making my knees buckle, my mouth dry. I had been indeed thoughtful, reaching the inside of the classroom without even realising I had done so. Harry's tone startled me in a good way, but I left out a surprised squeak nonetheless. We were thirty minutes early, which meant no one was around to see us. His hair was still damp, his green irises so light I could stare at them forever. Harry was a welcome sight; I needed to see his face just as much as a man lost in the desert needed water.

"You fucking scared me, Harry." I resisted the urge of slapping him. My smile was broad and evident, but as I calmed down, I started to pay attention to things. He was in a wheelchair, carrying a bag atop his lap. The cuts on his face had healed, the dark bruises vanished; he was the same old Harry, extremely good looking, flawlessly sculptured by nature.

"Well, I was hoping I'd surprise you." I shook my head in disbelief. I wasn't sure if I should feel ecstatic about his presence or angry that instead of going home he decided he should swing by college and casually attend classes, like any other person. I wanted to slap him, again, but I settled for a sweet kiss on his forehead, taking a seat beside him.

"The wheels don't suit you, but I am pretty sure a nice, cosy bed at home do." Harry rolled his eyes at my remark, picking up my hand and entwining our fingers, placing delicate kisses on my knuckles. I was surprised by his old fashioned gesture, feeling my cheeks heating up. It was such a simple action, but it stirred something inside me. His eyes were enticing, the look he gave me speaking louder than any word we could exchange. I was transported back in time, thinking about the days in which nothing could be said explicitly, all desires and needs coated by many layers of decorum; I never cared much for those seduction games, the entire concept of playing hard to get, but Harry, with one simple motion, made me want to play, to accompany him.

"I can't stand the sight of a bed. If I could, I would honestly sleep on my feet." He said, tongue wetting his pink lips. I was close to him, watching every small move he made. The way his eyes darted across my face, never leaving mine for too long. Surprisingly, I wasn't embarrassed or bothered by the constant attention; I felt cherished, as if he cared so much, he wanted to have me close so badly that he couldn't take his eyes off me.

"You need to rest and get stronger, not endure hours of boring lectures and professors who can only think about their next cigarette." He squeezed my hands, amusement clear on his face. I shrugged unapologetically; we both knew I couldn't be more right. Most professors were alcoholics, nicotine addicts that cared little about education or guiding their students.