Haven • H.S.

11-1. Can I Run?

Haven- 11.1

"...every river i ever tried to cross, and every door i ever tried was locked..."

Ella.

        "Hey," Harry whispered after a moments time. I hummed. "Are you okay now, angel?" I felt the vibrations of his words from where my head was now tucked in between his shoulder and neck. My previous tears had dried, leaving merely my flushed cheeks and what I can only imagine as red eyes for evidence.

        "Yes," I said softly. "I'm sorry for all that... I--"

       "No," Harry said, cutting me off. "Don't apologize, Ella. I'm serious. You never have to keep anything from me, okay? That's why I'm here. If you need me, I won't let you down."

        I could only nod at his promise, the closing of my throat incapacitating the use of my voice. It wasn't from the admittance of my parent's deaths this time, though. No, it was an all new emotion. This overwhelming and all-consuming feeling deep in the gut that traveled up and up and up to sear my heart. It was new to me, an untouched territory really, and I wondered why I wasn't scared. Why I wasn't frightened that Harry had already set up camp inside of me.

        I started to get up, detatching myself from his warmth. "El," he murmured, reaching out. "Where're you goin'?"

        "Just gonna get a glass of water," I whispered. My throat felt sore from my former want to swallow my tears back down. It hadn't worked, so now I felt the aftermath.

        "Mmkay."

        I walked the small distance to my bathroom, proceeding to fill the one glass cup I kept in here with the tap. I walked back out, my legs taking me to Harry on their own accord, while I drank. He offered open arms, again, and I slipped into them.

        "You want to talk anymore about it?" he asked into my hair. I took a deep breath, shaking my head no as I shakily let it out.

        "I'll always be here, though, okay?" he said, reassuring me. We wanted me to understand, without a doubt, his existence. "To talk."

        I turned to get a good look at the one person who has stretched me inside out in such a pathetically small amount of time. "Thank you," I said. "I mean it... like-- I don't know. It's sometimes hard to talk about you know? And and lot of people don't really understand it, not that I expect them to, but."

        He nodded. "There're some things that people try too hard to sympathize with, and they just can't. I d'think it's their faults. We've all got troubles." He scratched his thigh absently with the hand that wasn't behind my shoulder, laying at my waist pasively. "Some more than others. But each one is relevant. There's no such thing as someone having a bigger problem than the next person."

        I couldn't have agreed more. "There's a fine line between empathy and sympathy, I think."

        He nodded again. This time with more a bit more verocity. "I agree, baby."

        "And it's just so fucking frustrating," I continued. "Like not the part where people can't understand-- or wait, yeah. Maybe that's the frustrating part."

        "It is."

        "God." I put a hand to my forehead. "I always hated that one saying that 'everything happens for a reason'. Because I seriously don't think I was supposed to lose my parents the way I did. Like, maybe I'm coming off unconvincing here, but there are so many things in this lifetime that just shouldn't happen."