Harry’s POV
I pulled into the parking space, applying the handbrake and cutting the ignition. Once I’d wrestled with unclipping the belt my hands were at a loss. At least while I was driving they had a purpose, firmly planted to the steering wheel. They seemed to occupy themselves when I had nothing and no-one to hold, constantly fidgeting, picking at my nails, pinching at skin to confirm that I was actually here. Again.
My lip was nearly bitten raw, shifting in the seat. I rubbed at my eyes with a closed fist, a weak attempt at combating the exhaustion of restless nights. I pushed the sleeve of my coat up slightly, double checking the hands on my watch. Four minutes.
I could barely stand to glance at myself in the rear-view mirror. My eyes were ringed with dark circles, lips chapped and dry. I didn’t look like me. I knew it was of my own doing, I’d come undone. And I couldn’t seem to stich myself back together again.
It was at 5:14 that I’d slipped out of work early just to be sure. Tom had caught me this time, told me that he was concerned that I’d not really made any progress after nearly a month on my own. I was losing customers to train, resulting in my diminishing work week of now only three days. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was done trying.
Three minutes.
The beanie was tugged on and I readjusted it in the mirror before climbing from the car. My hands were frozen, fingers numb and nails bitten down to the quick. The fumbling for my keys was made even more challenging by the anxious disposition I’d fallen in to. Two minutes. My chest was having a difficult time of keeping pace with my heart. It seemed my fears were crowding me all at once, forcing me to clamp my eyes and lay my forehead upon the icy metal of the car frame.
“Oh shit,” I breathed in a panic.
Not now, I pleaded before sucking in a breath that caught in my throat on the way down. Fuck. I managed to stand unsupported, shaking off my insecurities to walk the short distance to my spot.
I stood where I always did, checking my watch again. 5:32. My back leant against the brick wall of one those old fashioned bus shelters. It probably wouldn’t be there for much longer as the council were demolishing the remaining ones to fit modern, glass shelters. I was thankful for the brickwork, if it were transparent, she would have seen me.
Almost on cue, she emerged from the shop way across the car park. Even from where I stood, there was a distinct pinkness to her cheeks and redness to her nose. I watched as she tucked her scarf into her jacket before zipping it up. Bo bounced on her tip toes, trying in vain to keep herself warm whilst she waited. My breath was visible in the air, puffing out through cracked lips as I observed from my shielded position. I wondered if her fingers were as cold as mine, shoved into the pockets of my coat.
Just to see her brought me peace, a kind of serenity I was useless in discovering on my own. In some way she was partly the cause of what I’d fallen in to, but apparently she was also the solution, alleviating the heavy weight in my chest that seemed to crush me on days when I was unable to watch.
Dan strolled out and any small amount of happiness I felt was immediately extinguished. He locked the door as they conversed, my stomach knotting at the easiness of whatever was being said. They didn’t touch but it was obvious he desired to sling an arm around her shoulders, much to Bo’s obliviousness.
If she was waiting for me, I would have laughed, bopped her nose and huddled her into my open coat. My hands would have purposefully rubbed her back to rejuvenate the warmth lost from the bitter weather. If it was me, I would have kissed her.
But it’s not.
Dan was the recipient of her playful smile and the gesture might as well have been loaded with daggers. My heart lurched at the feeling of absence. She would never look at me like that again, and I was cruelly selfish to wish otherwise. I continued to suffer as they walked to his car. My distaste was bitten back when he opened the passenger door for her and she climbed in.
