Facade [h.s]

forty-six

I sighed. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier," I whispered, looking into the street because I couldn't bring myself to look at him while talking. "It was wrong, I know. I'm really sorry I put it on you like that."

"You don't have to be sorry about that."

I motioned to the half-burnt cigarette between his index and middle finger, putting my hand on the frame of the window, looking down at him. "You're smoking again."

Harry shrugged, brushing back a strand of dark hair that had fallen onto his forehead. "I wanted to, now I'm not so sure anymore."

"Can't we just pretend I never said anything?" I asked him in a faint whisper. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

He looked down at his hand. "I wasn't expecting you to say that."

"I'm sorry." It felt odd to tell someone I was sorry for telling them I loved them. Like it was wrong, almost.

For some instants he didn't reply, preferring to stare out of the window instead. The stars were bright and so was he, the light of the moon covering his skin in a bluish tint. I found myself staring at one of his curls, that wrapped right around his ear gently, waiting for him to speak for what felt like centuries.

He turned to look at me suddenly, his shadowy eyes meeting mine before I could glance away. "I don't want to act like you never said anything."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Because." He glanced away again, letting out a faint sigh. He brought the cigarette to his lips and took a drag, letting the smoke out of his mouth slowly, and I stared at its thread-like cloud as it rose into the night sky.

"Because what?"

"Just because." He furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at the cigarette before reaching into the house and putting it out on a little plate next to the sink.

"Am I supposed to read your mind?"

He rolled his eyes, sending me a little glare before looking away again. He raised his knees, resting his forearms on them, and for a second I feared he would fall down. He murmured something, too low and too quickly for me to understand, looking down at the street.

I gave him a confused glance. "What?"

"I said it's because," Harry replied, and I had to fight the sudden urge to slap him.

"Okay," I said, a hint of resentment in my voice.

"I love you too."

My head snapped in his direction. "What?"

"I love you," he whispered, leaning his head back against the frame of the window again but not making a move to look at me.

"Oh," I could only reply, "well, fuck."

"Fuck?" He asked quietly, finally turning his head to glance at me. "That's an odd thing to hear after saying that."

"Did you expect to hear something else?" I played on, even though I already knew what he'd imagined I would've said.

"Maybe."

I gave him a nod. "Well, I did too."

He let out a chuckle at my reply. "Fair" he murmured, glancing out of the window again. "I'm shit at this."

"I noticed."

He rolled his eyes again. "Kick me when I'm down, will you?" He put his feet on the floor of the apartment and stood up, closing the glass of the window.

I took a step back, giving him some space. "Let's go to sleep, it's late."

"Depends on the point of view. I'd say it's rather early," Harry said in reply, motioning to the digital clock that was on the counter.