We make a lot of promises, whether conscious or subconscious, we do it, it's human. We say a lot of things that we have every intention of meaning but then something, as small as a roach being crushed by the heel of your boot, happens and it's as if a switch is flicked. On and off rapidly as if not quite sure where to settle. Black and white having mixed into a deep pool of gray area. They never really taught you how to swim in this mess, how to save yourself and save everyone else.
When you were little, it was easy for you to make promises. When you were just you and him, it was easy to make promises. And now all you can do is sit there, and flick this switch, on and off, on and off, on and off... and hope that the bulb doesn't burn out.
The study is an absolute mess. You've been at it for hours, you're frantic, manic even and all Harry can do is stare at you from his spot on the large leather reading chair. His eyes dance, following you as you circle the room, collecting books, writing notes, speaking small curses and tiny mumbles under your breath to yourself.
You're in the middle of analyzing a scribe. Your latin was alright, shaky but you could get by. A loud sigh from the corner of the room alarms you to Harry's presence, although you had known that he had been sitting there the whole time. It seemed that in your hurricane of research you had forgotten that he was the reason why your were doing all of this in the first place.
When your eyes finally land on him, he's staring straight at you. His lips shape the vowels and consonants of your name but the ringing that has started up in your ears, mutes the sound. Harry stands and it's then that you notice the small, wooden box in his hands. You shake your head at him, going back to your attempt at translating the old text.
There's a grumble and a few shuffled footsteps before the small wooden box is slammed down in your line of view.
"There's no other way."
His words are sharp and commanding. You shake your head quickly. You promised yourself that you would find another way and you would. You move the box off of the book, placing it on the far side of the desk before sighing.
"There has to be. I can't-"
"You promised me," his words are soft, almost pleading, "You said you wouldn't let-"
"I didn't mean it," you interrupt, choked on the sound of your own lie. You had meant it, at the time. But it's different now, everything is different.
Harry rounds the desk quickly, turning you gently to face him. Your eyes remain trained on the small box at the corner of the desk. The cross engraved on it was mocking you now, you were sure of it.
"Listen t'me, listen very closely," his voice comes out slowly, smoothly. As if he were trying to keep it under control, keep you under control, "We made a deal when we started workin' together. We promised each other that if it ever came to this that we'd-"
"We also swore up and down that this was just business. That we weren't going to let this get complicated and yet you were all to willing to break that promise for a quick fuck."
"Oh come off it, we're not talking about that right. That was different. You know that."
"So when are we going to talk about it?" Your heart beats out of your chest. It hurts just as much as the sour sting of tears nestled, unfaltering, in your eyes. The ringing has returned, flooding your ears. And with your voice raised higher than you ever, you continue, "After I assist you in your suicide?"
Harry remains silent, his eyes seem distant. As if he's watching everything unfold from the passenger seat in his brain. You take a breath when you realize that your questions were not going to be answered. He's already accepted this, why couldn't you?
"I just need more time. I'm sure I can find a way..."
Harry's sigh cuts you off.
"There's no more time left. This is it."
The tears finally fall from their cradle, running down your cheeks unrelentingly. Harry steps closer to you. Bringing his hands up, he cups your face, catching each and every single tear.
"I can't do it H. Please don't make me do it." You beg, with the hope that maybe he'll choose a different way, allow you more time. But you can see it in his eyes that he's already made his choice. He's decided to honor the promise, even if you wouldn't.
He leans down and places a barely there kiss on your lips. It's slow but just as quickly as he'd leaned in, he's leaned away and it sends your head into a spiral. You grab the sides of his shirt. It's smooth and soft and cool to the touch. You hold on for dear life as he leans in again, but this time, he instead leaves a deep kiss on the crown of your head before stepping away completely.
You watch him grab the small box off of the table before walking to the large sliding doors that separates the study from the main hallway. He slides them open, the sound slicing your soul like a knife. He takes a step out the door then stops, turning his head to look over his shoulder at you in his peripheral.
You wait, your eyes locked on his figure from your place behind the desk. You hope he's changed his mind. That maybe by some stroke of luck, he, himself, has come up with another plan. You wait for him to do something, anything that would tell you that he isn't going anywhere, that you still had time.
But when he opens his mouth, the only words that fall out are chased by a morose smile, his departure, and a cold angry fire that burns deep in your gut.
"I'll see you in another life... I promise."
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
A/N: Something a little supernatural and very angsty for the season of spook!
The edit came before the story hardcore, but once I started writing the blurb I couldn't stop.
