Twenty One.

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Harry's POV.

My alarm goes off and I roll over in bed, snatching my phone off the bedside table and shutting off the annoying sound. I sit up in bed, realizing I'm still wearing my clothes from work yesterday. I swing my feet out of bed, and something falls to the floor; my journal.

As soon as I got home from work yesterday I dove into the drawer and pulled it out. It's the only release I have, it's my escape from the world. It has always been for my eyes only and still will always be. If anyone ever got a look at my sketches I don't know what I would do. I can't handle the thought of having someone access my deepest thoughts. No one gets to know what I'm thinking unless I want them too, it's all I have left to keep to myself. I've given everything else I have to people and lost it all. America was my only escape and now my thoughts are all I have left.

I was up half the night drawing and erasing, striving for perfection. Each soft curve of the pencil calming me some, but every time it didn't turn out how I wanted, it angered me more.

I pick up my journal from the floor and set it on top of the bedside table, not wanting to open the drawer. I know what else is in there and I can't look at it right now, it would only make me more aggravated than I am. I cannot look at her bright smile or dark eyes, and even more I cannot look at my own smile with her beside me. It's only a reminder of how much I loved her and how much I was crushed when she left. Why I kept the picture for so long is a mystery to me, but I can't get rid of it. She can never know that I have it.

I raise myself out of bed, my back aching from lying down so long. I cross the hall to the bathroom, glancing over into the living room as I go. She's not awake yet, but her alarm should go off soon. I shut the door quietly behind me as not to wake her. I wish I could go over and take a peek at her; she's beautiful when she sleeps. All the memories of waking up with her wrapped in my arms as the sun streams through the blinds come back to me. Her features soft and her chest rising and falling slowly, the faintest smile on her lips.

The memories don't make me feel like they did. They used to make me happy for a short while, but as I nearly rip the shower curtain off the rod, anger courses through my veins. I hate having her so near but still so far. I can't touch her or hold her like every fibre of my body craves to do.

And it's my fault.

The scolding hot water burns as it passes over my skin and I relish in the pain. Feeling it physically takes me away from the pain I get from regretting that year we were together. She was all I ever wanted and I ruined it. I couldn't change for her, I was too young and too stupid to see how simple it all could have been. I've changed now, but she still can't see that it was all for her, not for me.

My hair hangs in my eyes and I wrap a towel around my waist. I wipe away some of the moisture on the mirror and take a close look at myself. On the outside, the only hint that I'm a mess are the light bags under my eyes. The state of utter confusion and the furious tornado in my mind is well hidden. I brush my hair from my face and shut my eyes momentarily before making my way to my room again. Normally Sky is slumped against the wall waiting for me to finish, her eyes trailing over my exposed skin when she thinks I'm not looking, but she's not there this morning. It's possible she could have already left.

I change for work and attempt to tame my curls before heading into the kitchen. I make myself toast and am playing tug of war with myself over my feelings when I hear faint breathing.

"Sky?" I call out into the quiet and hear a muffled whisper coming from the sofa, telling me that she is still asleep. I roll my eyes and call her name several more times before I see her head pop up and turn to me, her eyebrows furrowed.

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