Artwork [h.s]

thirty-five

To Harry: I'm not at home

I looked up before sending it, and stared at the small artificial lake in front of me, biting my lower lip as a sudden idea came to my mind.

To Harry: I'm not at home. You can come where I am if you want to

I reread my message for the last time, and sent it, locking the screen but not putting the phone down, staring into nothing for the few seconds that took the reply to come, looking down at the device in my hands in the second I felt it buzz.

From Harry: Where are you?

I typed in the reply and sent it, finally putting down my phone. I picked up the pencil and went back to my sketch.

I liked to go to quiet places to draw. Especially after particularly long or stressing weeks, it was a perfect way to release some of that tension and start anew. And with everything that had happened that week, there was no doubt that it'd been eventful.

I sighed, looking at the water. Soon the cold would've become too sharp, and it would've frozen it. It wasn't that cold though, so the icy surface wouldn't have been steady enough to walk on. I felt as if I was starting to lose control over my life. Like the water, I was completely subjected to way too many outside factors, in that moment more than ever. I was changing, I knew it, but I had no control over it as well, which scared me. What told me I would've changed in better? What if I would've ended up like the water, not enough to truly be something else, but too different to become who it used to be on its own? What told me that change was good?

The water was still. There was no wind, so it stayed in its place, immobile, apparently completely unbothered by everything happening around it. Its greenish surface was reflecting the blue of the sky, and I followed the movement of the clouds above on it.

I knew who I used to be, and I sometimes didn't recognise that person anymore when I looked at the mirror. Was Harry really changing me, or was he allowing me to see who I truly was? What I truly wondered was, was he showing me who he truly was while doing so? Or was I just being played?

I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind, allowing myself to concentrate on what I was doing. I disconnected the earphones from my phone and rolled up the wire, easily slipping them into the pocket of my coat, instantly scrunching my nose when the quiet music was replaced by the sound of the wind blowing through the canopy of trees. I tapped the pencil tip over the paper for a couple of times, before starting to sketch the reflection of the sky on the water.

After a while, that could've been a couple of minutes as well as a couple of hours for all I knew, I heard the sound of steps on the fallen leaves.

I looked up, noticing that Harry had arrived. I stared at him as he crouched down a couple of feet away from me, my eyes inadvertently searching for his.

He slowly sat down, looking at the small lake, seeming to almost purposefully not glance at me, a faint sigh leaving his lips. He passed his hand through his dark hair in a harsh motion, clenching his jaw, not a single word leaving his mouth.

I furrowed my eyebrows, sensing almost instantly the sudden change in the air. I just looked at him, not knowing what to say, or how to say it. It was clear that Harry wasn't happy - more than that, he seemed thoroughly pissed, and I didn't know how to act in a similar situation. I'd grown so used to Harry's habitual way to repress almost all his emotions, that I didn't know what to do now that it was clearly not happening. I silently took in his figure, trying to come up with a way to address whatever was going on. "Did something happen?" I asked quietly, going for a more innocent approach on the whole thing.