Pure, utter, shock. That's what I was feeling.

Harry was here. In Kingsville. In my apartment. In front of me. Kissing me. How exactly does one react when their ex boyfriend that they haven't seen in almost three years shows up and attacks their face? That is my question. 

Since I was so absolutely caught off guard, I just stood there at first. I could feel his lips on mine, but I couldn't feel them. I was too fucking confused as to what the hell I was supposed to do. 

And then I came to my senses.

"Get - stop - no - Harry get the fuck off me!" I screamed against Harry's mouth, my voice muffled as I placed both my hands on his chest and pushed as hard as I could. The second his mouth left mine I reared back my hand and slapped the shit out of him.

The loud smack resonated through my apartment and I gasped at my own actions, covering my mouth with my hands and taking a step backwards. Harry's face was downcast, turned slightly from the force of my slap. I could already see the red mark appearing on his skin, so much clearer than it was when we were teenagers. 

The silence was deafening, and I didn't know what to do. Harry was here. And even though I was freaking out, a part of me wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and hug him as tight as I could. He was my best friend for my entire life up until I left London, and those feelings of friendship don't disappear no matter how long we hadn't seen each other. But then the other part of me wanted him to just leave.

Slowly, Harry lifted his face and looked at me. I inhaled sharply the second his eyes met mine, seeing the sadness and confusion behind them. He wordlessly reached behind him and closed my door shut, the click breaking the silence.

"Harry." I choked out, my voice hoarse. "How did you...why are you..." I couldn't even form a coherent sentence.

He said nothing, just stared at me like I was some elusive creature. There was about five feet of open air between us, but it might as well have been an ocean.

"It's really you." Harry finally spoke. Fuck his voice was so much deeper now. "'re here, you're alive. You're okay. Jesus Carter, it's really you." 

He took a step forward to come to me again, but I instinctively took a step backwards and away from him. A look of pure pain flashed across his face, visibly wincing at my indifference. 

"How did you find me?" I asked, crossing my arms and looking anywhere but at him.

"I saw you in the newspaper, I knew it was you right away. It said you were a waitress in Kingsville so I just called every restaurant listed in the phonebook here. Carter you've gotta believe me, when I heard you on the phone, I -" He cut himself off then, biting his lip and looking around my apartment, unable to continue.

I said nothing, simply trying to keep myself together. 

"You look...good." Harry finally spoke again, and I risked a glance at him. "Your hair is so short though, it's weird. I mean you look amazing, you always do, it's just I'm not used to it. It looks blonder too." He rambled, gesturing to my messy short hair.

"Yeah." I murmured quietly, kicking the carpet with my bare foot. "When I moved here I cut it and colored it. Didn't want people to recognize me from the news stations and stuff."

I heard Harry exhale shakily. "Carter why did could you just leave? You abandoned us, left with nothing but a stupid note. Who does that?" His expression was slightly angry, but mostly hurt and confused. Nonetheless, it pissed me off.

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