Uncovered - H.S

Eleven. Un-lit Ciggerettes.

Instinctively I pulled my hand away, rolling the soft material over my scars. They were very subtle and not noticeable when you weren't looking in the right light, but Harry noticed, and somehow I knew he would. I also knew what he was thinking, it's what everyone immediately jumps to think when they see my arms up close.

"Did you do thi-"

"No." I cut him off before he could finish that sentence. "It's just scars from an accident that happened a couple years ago, just drop it."

My voice contained anything but the powerfulness Harry's did, and the gentle crack when I mentioned the accident didn't go unnoticed either.

I saw his hands unwrap from the anger fuelled fists they had formed into, and his chiseled features morphed into one of confusion as the previous vexation melted. I couldn't work out why he reacted like that, he didn't know me, he didn't care for me. So why?

Shallow breaths that echoed through his chest could be heard from in front of me and little clouds of his cold exhalation could be seen in the corner of my eye, but I refrained from looking up. I instead focussed on the floor below, how the concrete held tiny craters within its surface, like some form of a very underwhelming moon. And if the floor below me was representing something so immortal and far from evils reach, then why did I feel like I was one thousand feet underwater, with no way of being invincible?

Snapping back to reality I realised we had stood there in silence for a few minutes now. I couldn't bring myself to mind though, I liked the company.

Even if I did just reveal to said company something about myself I wished so desperately to keep concealed, preferably wanting it to stay locked away on the immortal moon I was talking about.

Harry didn't seem to pry at the newly revealed information though, and strangely my chest didn't seem to constrict as much at the mention of the accident. It was like his presence clung to every mortal atom that made me, and individually warped it back into a time where I was more or less just a normal girl, with no broken past to paint my personality.

How he did this I didn't know. But I couldn't lie and say I didn't crave the feeling more.

"Angel," he whispered, the soft openness in his voice surprising me, and causing it to nearly get lost in the evening breeze. He parted his lips to say more, but shook his head and frowned. "You should, er, you should get home."

And just like that, it was gone. His voice had now been masked back, the closed off waves it gave drowning me in disappointment, but I couldn't pin point why.

Swallowing my sadness, I proceeded to nod slowly and spun on my heel, walking away from his figure and venturing to my car.

But then I stopped. I had forgotten to do something.

Turning around once more I was met with Harry's silhouette in the same place, leaning carelessly against a random car that happened to be next to him. He had a cigarette balanced between his cherry lips as he twirled the lighter between his fingers, never lighting it up. Raising an eyebrow his eyes tore into me, and his sharp jaw was shadowed prominently under the light of the moon.

"Thank you Harry." I murmured quietly, looking up to see if he had heard. All he did was nod, the edges of his lips threatening to curve up in small smile around the cigarette he held between them. He looked beautiful and I couldn't stare anymore.

So I turned to get in my car, and I left.

Making my way down the roads of London city, I noticed how the light pollution from the building and street lamps was a distasteful contrast from the dark little world me and Harry had seemed to be occupying. The way he would make me forget about what had happened to me confused me, but I'm slowly coming to terms with why my brain would quiet its constant hum of loud thoughts whenever I'm with him.  It's because there's something in him I see and connect with, something I recognise in myself.

It is grief, like Harry had said that day in the music department. And the more time I spend with him, the more his overwhelming sadness came to light.

Pulling into my apartment parking, I slowed the car down and cut the engine. I thought about the fact neither one of us brought up Mr Mavis, me being too afraid to mention it and Harry... Well, I suppose he knew I didn't want to talk about it either. My stomach twisted in anxiety at the thought of him getting punished for hurting the professor, he couldn't go down for something that hadn't had anything to do with him. It was the wrong place at the wrong time, and I knew a lot about that.

Staring up at the building, it looked unbearable. The loneliness I would have to succumb to was practically radiating out of the brick walls, like a radioactive reminder of the emptiness waiting for me inside. So I decided then to stay in the confined yet safe space of the car for just a moment longer, and try to ignore the urge to fix Harry like how he was slowly fixing me.

And the fucked up part was, he didn't even know that he was doing it.