I tried to push everything that happened the night before to the back of my head, and it was easy for the most part. Me and Harry had to be at the airport the next day at a really early hour because we had to get back before church started in Madrid.
Nobody knew we were gone, hopefully. I kind of left everything at a whim and didn't tell anybody I was leaving. Not even Gracie.
When I checked my phone for the first time in days, I had so many missed calls from Gracie. She was probably worried about me and she had every right. I had ghosted her and left without telling her anything, but it wasn't like I had a choice. I didn't want to tell her what was going on, not now anyways. Not until we figured everything out.
Before we left for the airport, Pete had made us some really good breakfast and coffee. Hashbrowns with eggs and pancakes for two. I usually didn't eat in the mornings, but considering it was either this or starve on the plane, I decided to eat as much as I could stomach.
We talked a little bit about Ajax and what they had planned. Harry already had copies of the books that was given to him by Angela and handed it over to Pete for Ajax to look over. Pete reassured me that we were going to be okay, and that they had all planned a trip down to Madrid for a couple weeks. We weren't going to be alone for too long.
Although, they didn't specify when they were coming. Something about going over logistics of the plan before setting it into motion. If there is anything about me, it's that I'm pretty clueless to what was going to happen.
I was nervous, but I was more nervous about the plan shaking while my fingers had a tight grip on the arm rest of the chair.
Glancing out the window, the sun was starting to poke it's way over the horizon, though the clouds were washing away the full potential of what it could look like. I sighed, letting down the small curtain of the window before closing my eyes tightly.
Harry was sat beside me, eyes closed as he softly snored himself into a sleep. Looking over his body, I gulped softly. I had wondered if he was still annoyed at me, or if he was upset with me. I was upset with me too, but I was even more upset at him.
I wanted to think rationally, but I couldn't find a piece of me to do that inside my head. I tried to fight myself on a lot of things, like the fact that I may actually have some hidden feelings for him. It wouldn't make sense, though. How could it? Harry has trusted me with a lot of personal things that he's been through, but at the same time, I felt like I didn't know him. I didn't know the real him.
Harry in London, I didn't know him. He was a different person. Aggressive, but passive. He showed more emotions than I had seen ever in the time of knowing him. Not that it was a bad thing, but it showed me that he was a person. He wasn't just a priest, he was a human with emotions that sometimes he couldn't control. I just wondered why it all boiled over till now.
My eyes wondered over his soft features, brows pinched together in thought. His lip pouted out just slightly, arms crossed over his chest as half his face nuzzled into the back of the chair towards me. There was a bit of drool that dared to dribble down his lip. It was the softest I'd seen him on the trip.
But Harry had always been soft to me before this. Truthfully, I had never really known the soft emotions of someone. Everything was walking on eggshells for me, growing up. I tried to recall a time that I remembered my mom being soft to me, but those memories were faded with my age. I wanted to think of a time that my mom woke me up with chocolate chip pancakes, or a time that my mom would have read me a bedtime story, or held me till I fell asleep.
And I couldn't find one memory to pluck from it.
I want to think that someone knows what its like. I want to think that someone understands what it's like to walk out of your bedroom and get yelled at for no reason, or having passive said things to you. Depression has always been a friend of mine ever since I was a pre-teen, but we only hang out in my room where I know it will hold me.
Depression holds me like it's my own lover. He leaves poisoned kisses on my neck, all the way up to my ear and to my mess of hair. His kisses are sharp, painful, leaving them all over my body until I become numb from the pain. I don't really remember the last time that I have ever felt anything after that.
I don't ever remember a time where I felt happy, or excited about something. If I do, it's in small spurts, and lasts moments. I only wish that I could relish in a happier feeling than feeling like a monster that has no emotions most of the time.
I heard that's what trauma will do to you. Google has never stirred me wrong unless it's telling me that my sore throat is cancer. That's when it's a bit iffy.
Trauma can make you feel nothing and repress any emotions you have, and it's funny in my case, because I do feel. I feel anger. I feel sadness. I feel it all very hard, like a hammer to my chest, but happiness is short lived.
And even though I'm aware of all of this, Harry is the only person that has made happiness stay. He was a ray of light, a house made of sunshine that I could welcome myself into and not get burned. He--He was a good friend. He listened to me when I needed to rant, or cry, or scream. On the darkest of my days, his smile could sway the clouds to move from the sky to show rays of light on my skin.
He was my rock in some sort of way, even if I did get annoyed at him sometimes.
"Please stay seated as we land," A voice from the intercom knocked me out of my thoughts.
I glanced up towards the intercom, then looked over towards Harry again. Still sleeping, he hadn't moved an inch. I didn't know if he had even slept last night. From the way he was passed out, I could tell that he hadn't.
Placing a soft hand onto his shoulder, my fingers softly squeezed over the fabric carefully as I shook him lightly. His head softly nuzzled his nose deeper into the seat as he let out a huff. His fingers extended outwards before burying back into his arms.
"Hey," I whispered softly as my hand moved down to his arm, "We are landing."
"Mm." He hummed after moments of silence. I couldn't help but crack a smile at him in his sleepy state. Harry took his time waking up, and eventually opening his eyes one by one. There was a bit of sleep in the corners of his eyes, and I reached out to dust it away with my thumb.
"Okay?" I whispered out towards him. His eyes shut for a moment before stretching his legs out slowly, then his arms. I shifted in my seat as I peaked out through the curtains to see the plane landing down onto the runway.
"I'm up," Harry's voice was deep, raspy and groggy as he mumbled out, "What time is it?"
"Six," I said back to him without looking at him.
He didn't say anything back to me. His eyes stared at the chair in front of him, lost in his own scattered thoughts. I wished I was a bug on the wall inside of his mind so I knew what he was thinking in that moment.
But maybe it was just best if I didn't know.
-
I trudged up the staircase that was surely not missed, my bag slung over my shoulder as I fiddled with my keys to unlock my apartment with. Harry rushed past me, barely knocking my shoulder as he did so. I stopped at the last step, watching as he quickly walked down the hallway to his apartment.
I checked the time on my phone, seeing that it was half past seven at the time we got back home. Church started in thirty minutes. I half knew he was going to be late as is, but he also reeked of alcohol and his stubble was needing shaved so he didn't look as rough as he did right now.
There was a weird feeling at the pit in my stomach when I got to my door. For a moment, things felt normal, just like any day. But then it dawned on me that I wasn't safe here alone. Panic rose in my chest for a moment, but I swallowed it down. If anything, I could have Gracie come over and sit with me. I could explain everything that's happened the last couple of days and why I wasn't answering my phone.
I couldn't go with Harry to the church. I refused to go back there, I knew I wasn't safe there. Not at all. I had wondered for a moment if I crawled back to the church and begged for forgiveness, would they leave me alone? Would they take me in as long as I did what they said?
Shaking my head, I pushed my shoulder onto the door as my hand twisted the knob to go inside. I placed my things onto the table next to the door before throwing my bag to the side. Honestly, all I wanted to do was lay down and sleep for the rest of the day. I didn't feel like unpacking or doing laundry. I just wanted to hide away. The alcohol from last nights doing didn't really help with the thoughts that crossed my mind the minute I stepped into my apartment.
Pulling my phone out, I unlocked it with a small swipe and called Gracie. She always knew how to make me feel better when I was sad. Really, I didn't even know what I was upset about. I just felt sad. Felt like I wanted to just get out of Madrid again.
I wished I could say that I had family to go to when I felt like this, but Gracie was the only person that I called family. It was a small family, but I couldn't ask for a better friend. It may not be a big family full of love and support, but it was just enough for me.
The phone trilled through the speaker as I set it down onto the table and started to make myself a cup of coffee. The phone went to voicemail, making my head turn to look down at it in confusion before pressing down on her name once more. The phone didn't even ring this time, it just went to voicemail.
I stared down at the phone as my thoughts started to wander. She is usually always on her phone, why wasn't she picking up now? Unless she was with Michael, but it didn't make sense. Wouldn't she answer the moment that I called her back from being gone for days?
Checking the time on the phone, it was now past eight. Harry was probably on his way to the church, if not already there. I didn't want to call him to bother him with my worries, but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel panic.
I poured the coffee into my cup and added my usual creamer before tucking my phone into my pocket. I took a seat on the couch, slowly sipping down at the scorched coffee as my eyes stared at the blank wall in front of me.
I noted that I needed a TV. Well, looking at the place, I really needed to sprouse it up with decorations while I'm at it.
It was hard, affording everything by yourself, but when you're faced with a tough situation—what would you do? I was tired of feeling anxiety every time I was at home. Waiting for the next explosive fight to break out. My feet were bleeding from the thorns of the hardwood floor that I danced around on.
I didn't expect myself to have all the luxuries of life in the palm of my hand, either. I knew I wasn't going to have much when I moved out. I was sitting on the floor for a few weeks before I got a couch. I didn't care though. I had my own place where I knew my mom wouldn't hurt me anymore.
My phone started to buzz, causing me to flinch. My coffee splashed against the rim of the cup, spilling over onto my shirt. I breathed out a few curse words, quickly standing as I looked between the buzzing phone and the kitchen that had a towel.
My brain was malfunctioning.
I grabbed the phone quickly, sliding it open as I put it to my ear.
"Hello?" I sounded annoyed, but I tried to be as chirpy as possible as I made my way into the kitchen to find my rag.
"Hey! Sorry I missed your call, I was in the shower," Gracie said with a huff, "Where the hell have you been? You had me worried. You just disappeared off the face of the earth for three days!"
"Dude, I'm so sorry—" I groaned as I dabbed at the coffee stain on my shirt, "I've had a lot on my plate. I just—needed a few days to myself, you know?"
"Okaay...." She elongated, taking a few moments of silence before continuing, "But you didn't answer any of my calls. Why? Did you not see any of my texts? I mean, for fucks sake, Anna, you could have just texted me to let me know you're okay."
"I'm a piece of shit," I breathed out, "I know, alright? I should've texted you and I didn't. I'm really sorry. I'm just going through a lot right now and I just don't know how to process—to handle...this shit."
"I understand," Gracie sighed softly, "You know, I'll only slightly forgive you, but next time I'm gonna be mad at you and not forgive you...." She stopped herself, giving a few moments of silence.
"Gracie—"
"Please let me give you my therapist's number," She said softly into the phone. Her voice was heavy, but soft. I hadn't ever heard her be this worried before, not about me. "He is really awesome. I've been going to him for a couple years now. Just think about it?"
I chewed on my lip, making my way back into the living room before sinking into the couch. A therapist wouldn't hurt. I really needed to get a lot of shit off my chest.
"Send me his number," I breathed out as I placed a hand over my coffee cup, "I just—I'm really at a breaking point right now, Gracie..." My voice cracked out as tears welled up in my eyes.
"Hey, don't cry, okay? It's okay. Do you want me to come over?" She tried to comfort me, but I didn't feel anything. It felt empty for some reason.
"Okay," I sniffled, batting away the tears in my eyes, "I would like some company, I think..."
"Give me fifteen minutes. I'll be over," She reassured me before hanging up the phone. I sighed, throwing my phone to the side as I took a big gulp of my coffee.
Maybe a therapist was what I needed. Truthfully, it hurt to talk about my years at home. It's funny how the past can still hurt you over and over again, knowing it's so far from where you are now. Taking a look at where I am now, I felt like I had a good grip on adulting. Got my own apartment, a job and some food in the cabinets. That has to count for something, right?
But at the mention of speaking of the past, it still stings. Makes me angry even. A lot of things make me angry about the past. From being beaten with a bible, to my clothes being completely destroyed by my mother for moving out.
She couldn't monitor me anymore, and she knew that. She was a control freak that wanted someone to have a hold over and she couldn't stand that I left so she couldn't hurt me anymore.
I wish I had a loving mother. Someone to call me on sunny crisp mornings when the birds are chirping. We could've had coffee over the phone together while we both talked about our lives. Talked about how we were both going through some funk, but we could get through it together because we were best friends.
I envy those with mothers that they call best friends. I can only imagine what it's like, but since I've moved out, my mother has seemed like a stranger to me that I don't recognize. It's like seeing an old friend in a store and saying: "Hey! How've you been? Good? Great...Anyways, catch ya around!"
Your family is supposed to be the closest thing to you, so why does it feel like mine is so far away? I didn't have any siblings. I was an only child. My father was distant and hasn't talked to me much, my mom is a nightmare—my distant family doesn't come around often. Only for the holidays.
Sitting in the middle of these four walls have never felt so lonely. I could surround myself with people that I don't know, with people that I've had good conversations with—then go home and feel like the loneliest person in the world.
This house surely doesn't feel like a home, barely, it just feels like a place I sleep. Like a hotel room with extra bills. I haven't felt at home in a really long time.
Sometimes the pain is unbearable, but there are times that I forget that pain exists and I feel somewhat human.
When Gracie came over, she had brought some take out for me. I sighed a breath of relief. I didn't have to clean, which was a plus for me. After this long trip, I felt like I wanted to hide away in my room. Cooking was the last thing on my mind.
We sat in silence for a bit after having some small talk. Sounds of us eating, quietly, rung in my ears. I noted to myself once more that I needed a TV so I could fill these awkward silences.
"I think I'm going to break up with Michael," Gracie finally broke the silence as her fork pushed around the noodles in the plastic bowl.
"I didn't know you guys were official," I hummed as I swallowed my food before turning towards her, "Why, though? Is everything okay?"
"Things have been getting really weird," Her brows pinched, gazing towards the wall as if she was lost in her own thoughts, "He's been trying to get me to go back to church. At first, he was okay with me staying away from it. Especially after what happened to you and Nathan, but...He's been...I don't know. One day he went to church and then came to pick me up afterwards and everything changed. It was like a switch flipped."
I blinked hard. I tried not to show how visibly uncomfortable I was, but I had a really uneasy feeling inside my stomach. With everything going on in the church, I could only think the worst with what they've done to Michael.
"I'm sorry," I whispered softly, pushing the food away from me as I gave her a once over. She had a daunting look on her face, empty and shallow as she bit on her lip. "What was he saying?"
She swallowed thickly, her shaky hand pushing her hair behind her ear as she shifted in her seat uncomfortably.
"He told me that we needed to go back to church so we can be saved for our sins. He kept saying that we needed to repent for all the drugs and drinking. The sex. All of it," She shook her head as she breathed out a chuckle, "We were just in Johnny's basement last week doing coke and now all of a sudden he's got a god complex. I don't know what happened, but he won't kiss me. Touch me. Nothing...."
Her voice wavered as she spoke, but she had a smile on her lips. Gracie had always been a strong person, someone I looked up too, and seeing her struggle like this was hard. I never wanted to see her with her heart broken. Scared and vulnerable.
"Do you know what it's like to look at your boyfriend and know that he doesn't want to touch you anymore? It feels like...there's something wrong with me," She sniffled out through a soft cry as she patted away her tears with the pads of her fingers.
"Oh, Gracie..." I whispered. I hated seeing her like this, and I wanted to think that I didn't know what was going on with Michael, but in all honesty, I think I had some clues about what was going on.
"I've been doing some digging..." She whispered out, shaking her head as she got her phone out of her pocket. A sniffle left her as she tapped away on her phone before sliding it towards me, "I snuck into the church a few days ago and this is what I found. It's like a black book, it's similar to a bible, but it's...it's way different than the bible."
I picked up her phone, glancing towards her with a uneasy look before skimming through the words that the book had. She had taken multiple photos of the book. Peculiar enough, this book has brand new white pages. Meaning that this book was freshly new, freshly printed.
Skimming over the pages, it was similar to the bible in some ways, but not quite. In the bible, you had very vague translations that were open to interruptions, but this had more direct translations of their own sorts.
It was similar to the way that churches ran with a vague translation that they thought same sex's being together was a sin—and would ultimately be sent to hell for all eternity—but this said it more directly.
Do this, and this will happen. Directly.
"Thy shou never live life with an open mind, Jesus said—it will only allow the evil spirits in to corrupt you. Thy shou never eat without prayer, the food will only poison your body to sin."
"The spirit of christ lives in the one that leads you, Jesus speaks directly to them with faith to lead you to salvation of your soul. Listen closely, and follow the steps of which my son walked to free your soul of sin."
I shifted in my seat, pushing the phone away slowly as my eyes skimmed to the wall beside me. I couldn't wrap my head around why they were doing this. Where do they get off on controlling so many people like this? What is the point? What is the reward?
The worst part about it was Harry was the face of everything that was going on in that church. He was the one that was preaching all of this bullshit. I wanted to think he had a choice, but after recent events, I didn't think he had any choice.
He was stuck and I was scared to think about what would happen if he tried to resign. There had to be a moment in time when the shift happened, but I couldn't pin point. They said our last Father left due to personal reasons—but I haven't seen him since. Did he know about all of this happening? Could he have revolted and they killed him for not wanting to make the shift in the church?
There were so many mysteries. I was still trying to figure out how Nathan died. I never forgot about that, and it's still something that I felt guilty for. I should've been there for him. I should've stopped Angela when I had the chance. Nathan would still be alive if I would have stood up and said something.
"Anna?"
"Yeah," I breathed in a mere whisper, glancing towards Gracie with teary eyes. She had a sullen look, lips parted as if she was going to say something, but it never came. She was silent.
"What are we going to do about Michael? Do you think they brainwashed him?" I cleared my throat, switching my thoughts to him instead of Nathan.
"Do you think Michael can be saved?" She said softly, tilting her head as if she was trying to answer her own question, "I mean, he won't even come over to the house anymore. I cant even get him alone anymore."
With my mind as foggy as it was with thoughts, there was only one thing I could think of. We couldn't do anything from the outside. We needed to be in the belly of the beast if we were going to stop what was happening. Investigate, if you will. But the only thought that came to mind, was one that made my chest hurt with anxiety. Something that I promised I would never be apart of ever again.
"We need to go back to the church," The words slipped past my lips faster than I could process the words. Even saying it left a bad taste in my mouth.
"What? Fuck no, I'm not going back to that church! Fuck that!" Gracie said in shock, half laughter leaving her lips as she stood to her feet, "Did you not see what they did to Nathan? Did you just forget about how they burned him alive, or how your own mother tried to fucking frown you—"
"Grace!" I snapped at her. Her eyes widened at the formal name that spilled from me, I hadn't remembered the last time I used her formal name like that. She's always been Gracie to me. But she needed to listen to me, I needed her attention.
"You think that—" I choked out with tears forming on my bottom lid as I pushed myself to stand, "That I don't think about N-Nathan? You think I don't have nightmares? Or that I don't hear him screaming—his—his screaming in my head the night of the fire?"
Gracie's eyes glistened with tears as my words stung her. My chest constricted, palms starting to sweat as I tried to swallow the sob that was crawling out of the back of my throat. My fists clenched, I bit hard on my bottom lip that shook.
"I hear him, every fucking night!" I wasn't screaming at her, she knew that. I was screaming because I was angry. I was screaming because I knew it wasn't fair.
I was screaming because they have the audacity to try and dictate when someone lives and dies.
"I lay down in my bed every night and I hear how he sounded when he was on fire! He's always here, with me, in the back of my mind!" The sob finally broke out of me before I could even notice it. A waterfall streamed down my cheeks, my hands shaking from the memories that ripped to my forefront. "He's always here, and the worst part is that—I can't even seem to remember him b-before that!"
Gracie watched as I crumbled down to my knees on the floor, hands planting to the cold hardwood as my forehead placed against them. Sobs ripped their way through my raw throat, stinging and burning with each cry.
Her hand placed on my back, and before I could move, her arms wrapped around my back. Her head laid on my shoulder as tears fell from her eyes, small sniffles could be heard in my ear as she cried with me.
It wasn't just me that was losing people. It was her too. It was Michael too. It was all of us. We all lost someone dear to us, and it was unfair and fucked up how it happened.
"I love you, Anna," She sniffled, "We are going to get justice for Nathan. We are going to make sure they don't hurt anybody anymore."
I let out a shaky breath, turning to Gracie as my knuckle wiped at the hot tears on my cheeks.
"I don't want to go back," My voice was shaky, raspy and full of fear. I didn't know what waited for us. After Harry being scared to death that I may have gotten kidnapped, I knew that it was risky to go back.
"But we have to," I sniffled, "For Nathan."
—
After Gracie left, I laid in bed for the entire day. Sleeping on and off. I hadn't heard from Harry since we got home. No text or call. Some part of me wanted to text him to make sure he was okay, but on the other hand, I was torn. I was still upset with him, but not as strong. I was being petty, and I knew that.
I knew that I was being somewhat over dramatic. On our first date, I told Harry that I had sex with him because it was just something to do. It was something that cured my boredom. I didn't really realize that there were other emotions tied in until I saw Veronica on top of him.
I felt jealous. I hated to admit it, but I did. After what Niall had said about how Harry is always going to choose her, I knew I should just give up. I didn't want to get in the way of their...situationship.
I found myself sitting outside on the balcony that I rarely ever sat on. I started to realize how old it was really. There were small holes scattered around the ground of it, which made me nervous. This balcony was really falling apart, and yet there I was sitting on it. If it may fall, then I would go with it and fall from the third story.
I hugged my body, my pink hoodie waving against my face as the wind blew forth. It was a chilly night, but it felt good to sit out here. The night stars were barely out to see due to light pollution, but if I looked straight ahead I could see the lights of Madrid. It wasn't anything spectacular, no, and it wasn't like I lived on a hill like royalty to look down at the city.
But there were buildings ahead with signs that lit up the night, along with the old yellow street lamps that scattered along the sidewalks with it.
I wanted to shut my brain off, even if it was for five minutes so I didn't have to think about all the fucked up shit that's happened the last couple of months. But it seemed like the only thing I could think of was my family. It always rounds back to my family.
I tucked my knees into my chest, resting my forearms on them before burying my face into them. And I sat and thought.
You can let it go.
"I said get on your fucking knees and pray!" She screamed at me, swinging the bible towards my face.
You can throw a party full of everyone you know.
"Stop! Stop, please!" I cried out, my hands starting to throb. I felt one of my knuckles start to bleed from impact.
And not invite your family cause they never showed you love.
"You ripped up all of my clothes?! All of my clothes?!? Are you fucking kidding me?! You're an evil person, Mom! An evil fucking witch!!"
She said nothing, but instead opted for grabbing the bible again. The same bible she had attacked me with prior to this. I saw her raise it to hit me with it and without hesitation, I grabbed the bible with both of my hands and pulled her to me in one motion.
You don't have to be sorry.
"Try me. I want you to fucking hit me. I will call the fucking cops and put you in jail for abuse."
For leaving and growing up.
"You shouldn't leave your door unlocked,"
My body jolted at the sudden voice, my head nearly giving me whiplash as I looked over to see Harry sitting on the other side of the balcony on the ground with me. His knees tucked into his chest as he looked out towards the city lights.
"I didn't even hear you come out here," I breathed out, wiping away at my teary eyes. Harry stayed silent, his fingers picking away at the small specks of lent on his trousers.
"Sorry," He sighed, tilting his head back. His neck craned, showing off the length of his neck as his adam's apple bobbed from swallowing.
"You know..." I whispered out softly, glancing towards Harry out of the corner of my eye, "I feel like I don't even know you. I know you, but I don't and—" I shook my head, letting out a soft chuckle, "After this weekend, you've left me so confused. I mean... who are you, Harry? Who is Harry Styles? Not Father Harry—but Harry. You. The real you."
The tension eased, but was still there. A silence followed my hounding question, yet Harry didn't even flinch. He scratched at his jaw with his fingers slowly, lips pursed as he got lost in his own thoughts.
"When I was a kid, I used to love Peter Pan. It was my favorite book, and I used to read it a lot. Was even more excited when they came out with a movie," He recalled, placing his flat palms onto the ground as he glanced towards me, "I always wanted to be a lost boy. Follow Peter in his footsteps and go on adventures and fight captain Hook. I just thought he was the shit."
"But," He continued, putting his pointer finger in the air as he wagged it with a curved smile on his lips, "I grew up. Really fast...and the more I grew up, the more I realized that you can be a lost boy without being in a made up story. Because you can go through your entire life, deal with the cards your dealt and still feel—so lost..."
I blinked hard. Turning my body towards him, I listened to his small rant. I didn't quite know where he was going with this, but I wanted to hear. I wanted to listen.
"I don't know exactly who I am," His voice lowered, head craned towards me with a sullen look, "But I'm trying to figure it out. In all honesty, I'm just a man that wants to feel okay about my past. I want to feel like I have something to live for. Church gives me that, but not so much anymore. It's like everything I touch, dies. I kill every chance of happiness that comes my way."
"Harry..."
"No, it's okay," He shook his head, waving a hand at me as he turned his body towards me to finally look at me. "I want to tell you. I'm ready now, I think..."
My throat closed, almost constricting myself from breathing. This was a moment I had been waiting for. Having him open up to me. He didn't have too, out of all the times I've asked, but he was now.
And my ears have never been so open before, now more than ever.
"When I was in the church back in London, a lot of shit changed me. I went through a lot of shit that nobody should go through, and I downplay a bunch of shit—I act like things are okay when they aren't," Harry's voice shook as he spoke, his fingers started to pick at his cuticles, "I was a good kid. I never made a bad grade in school, you know? On paper, I was a good kid and my parents were proud of me, but the church—they changed my parents..."
"I lost my virginity to this girl I really liked at school and they found the condoms in my room. I went to church one day and they—they had made my parents think that I needed punishment for being a—a kid! Doing shit that everyone else in school was doing, you know? And they—they had..." Harry halted his sentence, fingers clutched tightly into a fist.
My eyes watched as he slowly stood to his feet. Pete had already told me about what happened to Harry, and about the lashes on his back, but hearing it from Harry himself had made my stomach feel even more sick than before.
Harry's ring cladded fingers gripped at the hem of his shirt before lifting it off over his head. His fern tattoos were the first to show, his muscles contorting in a way to show his abs before his butterfly started to flex with his movements. I eyed his tattoo'd torso, not noticing how my nails dug deeply into my skin.
His long hair shook out from his shirt, caressing past his shoulders and resting right above his breasts. I hadn't even noticed how fit he was, and how much muscle he had built up until now.
He let out a slow breath, hands falling to his side with his shirt clutched in one of them. I pushed myself to scoot back, nervous to see the result of what they had done to him. He turned his body around, and I lost my breath.
His back was nothing like I had imagined. I thought maybe a few lashes on the back, but when he turned, there were scars that were light pink. Long ropes of scars that intertwined with each other all around his back. I tried to count, but there were so many scars that clashed together it was hard to figure out how many times they had hit him.
"Oh my god..." I put my hand over my mouth slowly, feeling bile start to rise in my throat. His back flexed from the sudden wind that brushed past us. Within seconds, the scars were hidden faster than they were revealed.
He put his shirt back on, turning back towards me with a deadpanned expression. He bit down on his lip, turning away from me as he leaned himself against the railing of the balcony. I watched as he dug in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, taking one out and placing it between his lips.
I stood to my feet, standing there for a moment as I watched him light up the stick and puff on it. Harry told me he only smoked when he was nervous. Was he nervous now? Thinking that I would look at him differently now?
I found myself walking towards him, planting my feet beside him as I leaned against the railing with him. Staring out towards the street lamps, I stayed silent to give him time to calm down. His jaw was stern, the cigarette between his fingers was pinched tightly as his teeth tore at the dead skin on his bottom lip.
"You didn't deserve that," I whispered out softly after a few moments, "You do know that, right?"
Harry took a long drag from his cigarette, smoke bellowing out from his nose before looking down towards the ground from three stories up.
"Sometimes," He whispered back, "Sometimes I feel like it was karma. I don't know what I did to deserve it, but everything happens for a reason, you know?"
Hearing him think that he deserved it made my heart clench. I didn't realize my vision had gotten blurry before I was trying to look out towards the lights that had streaked across my sight. I felt a tear drop fall onto my hand, causing me to look up at the sky as if it was raining.
But it was only me.
I was the storm that was drenching myself with raindrops.
"Are you crying?" Harry looked towards me, brows pinched tightly. My hands clenched around the railing as I let out a soft cry. I hated being so emotional around him, but I couldn't help it. It wasn't fair.
Everything that happened to me wasn't fair. Things that happened to Harry and Nathan wasn't fair. We didn't deserve the abuse that was brought onto us. We were just kids trying to wheel our way around life, and the people we trusted the most hurt us. We spent our lives carrying this burden on our shoulders, thinking that no one would ever love us, or think that we would never do anything right in our lives.
Why would anyone make us think that about ourselves? Why are people so cruel?
I was drenching myself in my makeshift rain. A cloud above my head, I was soaked. I felt myself melt as if I was the wicked witch. I had always carried this cloud above my head, wondering when it was going to move on so the sun could shine on me for once.
It was until I felt Harry's large arms wrap around my body and pull me into his chest that I felt like I wasn't alone for once. I didn't hesitate, instead I wrapped my arms around him and let it rain on the both of us. His fingers soothed over my back slowly, his nose nuzzling into my hair as he rocked us side to side. He hummed soft words into my scalp, words of affirmation. And it felt like someone cared.
When the rain cleared, I looked up towards him with red, irritated eyes. His green eyes could light up the night if the street lamps ever went out. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead slowly, brushing my hair out of my wet face.
"We're gonna be okay," Harry whispered softly to me.
The words were enough to make my sadness disappear. I don't know why. I don't know how. Everyone else in my life could tell me that, and I would still feel like I'm really in the shit.
But with Harry.
It was so much different.
And it's because I realized that Harry was my sun that I had been looking for all of my life. He was the one that could make the clouds float away. It was like he had some magical power to make the rain stop, so he could come and replace it to dry me up and give me sun kissed skin instead.
"Will you..." I sniffled, rubbing my teary eyes, "stay with me for the night? I—I don't want to be alone..."
Harry pursed his lips, running his fingers through my hair slowly. I fluttered my eyes shut, feeling his lips on the top of my head carefully.
"Of course," He said softly, "I'll sleep on the couch."
"No," I shook my head, wrapping my arms tighter around him before taking a step closer, "Sleep...in my bed with me?"
"Are you sure?" Harry said nervously, shifting his weight on his feet as he placed his large hand onto the lower of my back, "I—I haven't shared a bed with anyone in a while."
"Please?" I whispered out. I wanted him in my bed. Not just sexually. I just wanted to feel him close to me. I wanted him to hold me until I fell asleep.
For once in my life, I wanted to feel safe.
And he made me feel safe.
"Okay, I will." Harry's lips slowly curved into the tiniest smile.
I nodded and headed inside. Harry came from behind me after he finished his cigarette. I was already in my night wear—basically had been wearing it for most of the day anyways.
Harry stood near the balcony door, watching me as I crawled into the bed under the covers. I looked back at him, patting the empty spot from beside me.
"Are you coming?"
"Um... is it okay if I slept in my pants? I just—I cant sleep with trousers on," Harry swallowed thickly, running his fingers through his hair nervously as he moved towards the bed.
"I don't care, not like I haven't seen it before," I teased him softly with a smile. Harry let out a low chuckle, sending me a playful glare before unbuttoning his trousers and sliding them off.
His tiger tattoo popped out, along with some other tattoos that showed around his knees and thighs. I smiled softly to myself as I eased into the bed, and Harry slid in under the covers moments later.
He laid on his side towards me, making eye contact with me as his head laid onto his hands. Admiring his green eyes, I scooted a bit closer to him. He inhaled slowly, breaking the eye contact to look up at the ceiling.
"Are you okay?" I whispered.
"I'm okay," He whispered back.
I could tell he was nervous. I wasn't really sure why. We had slept together before, was this any different or did he fear the domesticality of it? Did it feel more intimate this way?
Looking down at our legs that the blankets covered, I moved mine to intertwine with his. His eyes wandered back to mine, one of his hands leaving from under his head to pull the blankets up to his hip.
It was silent for a few moments. I wasn't sure what to say, or what to do. But I felt like this was a good step.
After a few moments, Harry moved his body closer to me, locking his legs with mine before wrapping his tattoo'd arms around my body. I let out a sigh of relief, nuzzling into him willingly as my eyes fluttered shut against his chest.
"Goodnight, Harry..." I whispered out.
"Goodnight, sweetheart."