Black

XLIV

I shook my head, "Let's just go back home with the car. You are sick," I said, meeting his gaze again.

He stared at me for a few seconds that felt like hours, making me wonder if I had said something wrong.

Maybe he wasn't offering to walk because it looked like I needed it, and I just jumped to the conclusion that he was doing it for me.

Just when I was about to correct myself, his eyes started softening as he stepped towards me, closing the distance between us.

He sighed, the puff of air brushing my cheeks, "I never heard you refer to anything as home before." My ears rang with the sound of my heartbeat as realization dawned on me. "C'mon, we are doing this for both of us," he changed the topic, squeezing my hand, and began walking.

I took a deep breath and followed suit.

Home. I called his house home.

The stay I claimed would be short in his house had changed a lot of things between us; had made the house feel like home.

My mind, afraid of what it would think of next, fell back into the void.

Chest tight, steps heavy, and head empty, I walked beside Harry as my eyes gave up its job in examining every inch of the street.

Even Harry walked silently.

I could tell there was something bothering him, and I didn't know if it was me or if it was something else.

By time, the streets got busier as barely anyone gave us a second glance.

We were two ghosts in a big city, fighting to live.

Harry's hand wrapped around mine all of a sudden, pulling me to walk in a different direction and away from the people.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I studied where we were going.

It was a playground—one that looked abandoned.

A dark spot between all the lights. It looked like it didn't belong there.

Swings flew with the wind, sending shivers down my body.

Harry led us past a blue slide and a couple of animal springers to a bench that faced the playground, before letting go of my hand and sitting down.

Without asking questions on what we were doing here, I sat beside him.

A couple of trees surrounded the place, giving some life to it.

I sighed, slumping against the too uncomfortable bench.

Harry moved beside me, clearing his throat, "You can cry now."

I raised my eyebrows, looking at him, "I don't want to cry."

He didn't face me; instead, he watched the ghostly moving swings, "It's okay to c-"

"I don't want to cry," I snapped before looking the other way.

I didn't want to cry.

I wanted to take revenge before I was thrown into an asylum. I wanted to end this for good. I wanted a lot of stuff, and crying was a need I kept on scratching out with a black marker.

I was more confused than ever.

"How about crying now?"

I huffed and got up, walking away from him to god knows where.

He was annoying me, and I didn't know if it was on purpose or not.

I was stronger than this—I needed to be stronger than this.