Invisible || h.s.

17: Reunion p.2

"I brought your things. Do you need anything else?" Harry asked quietly, placing my small suitcase by the door. I watched as he scratched the back of his head nervously, looking very cute while doing so. He can be so... adorable.

The sight of the usually cool man acting so unsure of himself made my own nerves ease up considerably.

"I do, actually," I answered with a small smile, "will you be staying here with me?"

Harry leaned against the doorframe with a deep sigh. "I was going to sleep in Niall's old room. I, uh, assumed you want to be alone."

"Yeah, for a while, silly, not the whole eternity," I couldn't resist a bit of harmless teasing.

All I wanted at the moment was to have a little break; just a couple of minutes without thinking about this whole messed up situation, my fears, nightmares, addiction problems—the list went on and on.

It seemed like all Harry and I ever did was make things complicated, and I was aware that the reason for that was mostly my own erratic behaviour.

I figured my reaction wasn't the one he had expected, because for a moment he just stood there, probably baffled by my sudden playfulness. I was about to say something else—I needed to reassure him that our little spat earlier hadn't been anything serious—when the corner of his mouth tipped upwards, creating a cute dimple in his cheek. "Zayn is right, I am hopeless," he muttered finally, which caused me to let out a breathy laugh. We're both hopeless.

I patted the empty space beside me, urging him to join me on what once used to be his own bed. "Come here, please?" I asked. He nodded, crossing the tiny room in three long strides.

"I'm really sorry about what I had said earlier," he spoke as soon as he took a seat next to me, voice low and apologetic. His fingertips fleetingly brushed the top of my hand, causing my heart to skip a beat at the unexpected and intimate gesture.

"It's okay," I murmured, trying to control my ragged breathing. What is happening to me?

"I got mad, because I don't want you to go through with this," he admitted, and I could sense nothing but honesty in his words. "I don't like the risks."

"I'm scared. I'm scared so much Harry," I said, my voice cracking a bit, "but right now one thing that I fear more than this is allowing those nightmares to continue. I don't know how much longer I can handle it. Besides, Zayn knows what he's doing, right? I'll be fine."

"There are things even he can't control," Harry said, his voice laced with sadness, "and I just want, I want—" he let out an angry sigh, frustration clearly etched on his face.

"You want to help me," I supplied knowingly.

Zayn's words about Harry wanting to save everyone had opened up my eyes; it was easier to understand Harry's constant over-protectiveness once you knew that it was just something he had in his blood.

Harry's eyes widened slightly at my words. "What did he tell you?" he asked slowly, and I could sense a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Only good things," I answered truthfully.

Well, maybe except for the fact you apparently used to be a womaniser, my subconscious added, much to my chagrin.

Harry hummed, clearly not convinced by my answer. "I seriously doubt that. Zayn's opinion of me is far from good."

"That's where you're wrong, Harry. Whatever has gone down between you two still hurts him deeply, so naturally he's on the defensive. But the way he spoke about you—as well as Niall and these other guys—says a lot. You still mean the world to him."