Chapter song:
King For A Day by Pierce The Veil, Kellin Quinn
-
My eyes slowly flutter open as the sound of birds chirping loudly outside gently wakes me up, one eye squinting shut as my vision adjusts to my surroundings. I glance around the large bedroom, with bare, white walls, and all black furniture. There's a large T.V. sat on top of a dresser in front of the bed, but that's the only thing even close to decoration in the room.
The quiet sound of a deep breath behind me snaps me out of my grogginess, and I become fully aware of the presence next to me in the bed. Harry's arm is resting over my waist, holding me close to him as he spoons me. I can feel his soft breath hitting the back of my neck whenever he exhales, slightly tickling me each time. I move to adjust my body so I'm facing him, his arm never leaving my waist.
I study his sleeping face with a small smile on my lips; his cheek is squished against the fluffy pillow beneath his head, his heart-shaped lips in a subtle pout, and his brows are furrowed, leaving behind a small crease between them. His long hair has fallen onto his face, and I lift my hand to brush the strands away as I think back to last night.
I told him everything.
The thought causes an uneasy feeling to rise in my stomach; I still don't really trust Harry, and I don't know if I opened up because I was high, or because I was exhausted, but no matter the reason, a big part of me wishes I hadn't told him anything. The conversation itself is difficult enough to have with a normal person, let alone someone like him. Maybe it was just word vomit, like I've been holding it in for so long that it just needed to come out, I don't know.
I'm just going to blame it on the weed.
Cassandra is the only person in my life that knows that dark part of me, the part of me that I choose to keep hidden from others, and I've never really intended on telling anyone else; I especially never planned on telling Harry, of all people. I'm afraid of what will happen when he uses that piece of information against me because, eventually, I know that's what he'll do; that's just who he is. He's broken me down in every way imaginable, why should I think he wouldn't do it again?
I was completely speechless when he told me about his mom. I know nothing about Harry. I don't know what he does for fun, aside from drugs; I don't know his favorite color, probably black; and I only found out what his favorite band is last night. Yet, he told me about his family, and the parts of himself he chooses to show on a daily basis actually started to make sense. He's dark, his presence is heavy and, most of the time, very negative, and I can see why.
He's damaged, just like me.
The part of last night that shocked me the most, though, was that he took care of me. I cried into his shirt, soaking it with my tears, and he wasn't angry. He didn't yell, he didn't berate me; he helped me undress, in a non-sexual way I might add, he washed my hair for me, and he held me. He held me while I cried, and he held me while we slept.
Why did he do that?
Another deep breath escapes from Harry's nose, and his eyes slowly begin to open. He looks confused at first, like he didn't expect to see me laying in front of him, but his furrowed brows soften when he starts to piece things together.
"Hi," I whisper softly.
A smirk grows on his lips as he brings his hands up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "Hi," he responds. "How did you sleep?"
"Good," I nod. I watch him yawn loudly, then turn his body to face me again, tucking his hand under his cheek as his eyes meet mine. "Thank you for last night. I mean, thank you for listening to me, and letting me spend the night, and-"
"Katie," he chuckles sleepily. "Relax, it's not a big deal."
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, feeling embarrassment creep up to my cheeks from my nervous rambling. "Right, yeah," I clear my throat. "Well, I should probably get home."
I sit up and grab my phone off of the nightstand, and see that it's just past ten o'clock. I want to get out of his hair so he can do whatever it is he likes to do on his days off.
"Wait," he stops me, sitting up to match my position. "Uh, I'm going to go get some breakfast. You can join me, if you want."
I'm caught off guard by his offer, my lips parting as I struggle to find an answer. A nervous look grows on his face the longer it takes me to respond. "Yeah," I finally say. "I could eat."
• • •
Harry pulls over across the street from Carrera Cafe, a cute little coffee shop on Melrose Avenue, and puts the car in park before we get out. The small cafe is pretty busy for a Tuesday afternoon, with almost all of the tables being used and a small line formed in front of the registers. The decor is pretty simple, with white walls, black and white tile flooring, and just a few plants hanging up here and there. I've never been here before, but Harry said it's one of his favorites.
Harry and I stand in line silently while we wait for them to take our order; the air between us has been slightly awkward all morning, and I'm not sure if it's from last night or him inviting me out to breakfast.
I anxiously adjust the large shirt he let me borrow, seeing as though my shirt from last night was soaked from me crying for as long as I did; he said he would wash it and get it back to me. The shirt is black and blue tie-dyed, with a symbol that I can't make out from the band Sleep Token; I've had to roll up the sleeves because they're too long for my arms. It was nice of him, but it feels weird for him to let me wear something of his.
"What can I get you guys?" A shorter girl, with long blonde hair and a warm smile asks us from behind the counter. Her name tag reads 'Emma' in swoopy, delicate cursive. She has a positive energy to her, and I feel incredibly grateful for it in this moment.
"Can I get a medium iced americano, and an egg sandwich with turkey bacon?" Harry monotones, reaching for his wallet.
"Sure, anything else?" She begins typing his order into the register.
"Yeah, I'm getting hers too," he mumbles, motioning towards me with his thumb.
"Harry, you don't have to-"
"Don't worry, I've got it," he shakes his head, standing to the side so I can order. I hesitantly step up the register, feeling slightly uncomfortable with his offer to pay; I don't want him to feel obligated to do so.
"Could I please get a medium iced mocha with oat milk, and an extra shot?" I order softly. "And the waffles, with nutella and bananas, please."
"Of course," Emma nods with a smile. "If that's all, it'll be twenty-seven fifty."
Harry pulls out some cash and pays before thanking her, leading us towards a table by the window. I look outside, watching a few cars pass by here and there. I've always liked Melrose, the traffic isn't crazy, so it's a nice escape from the majority of LA.
"Thank you for buying breakfast," I clear my throat, pulling Harry's attention away from the window.
He rolls his lips into his mouth, nodding his head. "Of course, I asked you to come with me. I wouldn't make you pay."
I smile shyly, as I push my hair out of my face. "How did you find this place?" I wonder, glancing around the small room. I can see why Harry likes it, it's a cozy atmosphere; everyone here looks happy. It seems comforting.
"When I first moved here, I was driving around just to get out of my flat, and I saw this place. I just decided to stop for some coffee," he shrugs. "I like the environment, it's refreshing."
His voice gets quiet as his words confirm what I was already thinking. Harry acts tough and broody, but he's still human, and sometimes humans need a breather.
"Harry!" Emma calls from the counter, and I look over to see our food and drinks sitting in front of her. I attempt stand up to go get it, but Harry stops me.
"I've got it," he shakes his head, walking up to grab our order. When he turns back around, I see him carrying all four items effortlessly, with no tray or anything.
How have I never noticed how big his hands are?
I swallow harshly as he approaches our table, and quickly stop myself from staring at him. "What?" He questions with furrowed brows, setting my food down in front of me.
"Nothing," I shake my head, quickly averting my gaze down to my waffles, which are sliced up and placed in a cup with whipped cream, bananas, and nutella. "Thank you."
He says nothing as he sits down, and starts eating his sandwich, the silence causing my anxiety to pick up. I know he caught me staring at him, and I'm sure he could see the embarrassment written all over my face.
"So," I start, picking up one of the waffle slices and taking a bite. The nutella dances across my tongue, the sweet taste bringing a smile to my lips. "Is this what you usually do on your days off? Go get breakfast by yourself?"
He raises a brow at my question, stopping his chewing to look at me. "Sometimes," he responds, wiping his mouth with his thumb. "Glad you chose to add the 'by yourself' bit in there."
My eyes widen as I overanalyze my wording, realizing how rude it sounded. "Oh my god, I didn't mean-"
Harry starts chuckling, taking a sip of his drink with a smirk on his face. "I'm kidding," he explains, brushing his hair back with his fingers. "I like to spend time by myself, it gives me a chance to clear my head."
I nod slowly, completely understanding what he means. That's why I live by myself, so I can take the time I need to decompress without the pressure of someone else around me. Cass has asked me to move in with her several times, but each time I've said no. I like the solitude.
"What do you like to do for fun?" I tilt my head to the side as he finishes his food, pushing the plate away from him so he can rest his elbows on the table.
"I like drawing, clearly," he jokes, making me roll my eyes at him playfully. "And music, I love music. I like to go for long drives in the hills, just listening to whatever I'm feeling that day."
"I used to do that before I totaled my car," I reminisce. "I miss that."
"You totaled your car?" He asks with a shocked expression. "How the hell did that happen?"
I chuckle softly, covering my mouth as I chew the last bite of my waffle. "Okay, technically, I didn't total it," I shrug. "Some asshole slammed into the back of it when I was at a stop light. Practically snapped the frame."
"Jesus," he lets out a breathy chuckle. "That's scary."
"It's fine," I brush it off with a wave of my hand. "Slightly triggering, for obvious reasons, but I was okay; the car was garbage anyway."
Harry smirks and shakes his head. "Why haven't you gotten a new one? Isn't the public transit shit in this city?"
"It is," I huff. "But cars are expensive, and I wasn't making very good money at Genevieve's. I've been saving up though. I'd like to be able to drive around and do fun stuff without having to worry about the bus schedule."
"What kind of fun stuff?" He asks curiously.
"I don't know; go to bookstores, record stores, the beach," I shrug, listing some of my favorite things to do. "I love the beach."
"You know, there's a really cool book store down the street," he hums, fiddling with the ring in his lip. "Would you like to go? They have records, too."
A big smile grows on my face at the suggestion, feeling excitement bubble in my stomach. "I would love to!"
Harry starts to stand up, grabbing his empty plate and my waffle cup to clear the table, and I pick up our drinks to wait for him by the door. We say a quick 'thank you' to Emma before we make our way down the street.
It's sunny outside, but the November air is still a little bit chilly; I'm feeling very grateful for Harry's long sleeve right now. Our short walk is pretty silent, the only interruption being a cute dog that I had to stop and pet; even Harry was happy to see the little pug. That's the first time I've seen him happy about anything.
When we finally reach the bookstore, I take in the large wooden sign above the door; it reads WHITE WHALE BOOKS AND RECORDS in chipped white paint. Harry holds the door for me, and I take a look around when I step inside. The walls are lined with all kinds of books, with a few bookshelves breaking up the different genres, and I can see a large red neon 'RECORDS' sign hanging up on the wall near the back. The whole store smells like old books.
God, I love that smell.
I start walking down the aisles, looking for the Horror section; my favorite genre. I let out a soft gasp when I see a first edition copy of Salem's Lot by Stephen King, one of the most difficult books of his to find.
"Oh my god!" I exclaim. "I've been looking for this for so long!"
Harry walks over to me, peering over my shoulder to read the cover. "Salem's Lot? What's it about?" He wonders, taking the book from me and flipping it over to the back.
"Okay, it sounds silly," I laugh. "But it's about vampires."
Harry looks at me with a raised brow, causing my cheeks to flush with embarrassment. I choose to ignore his judgmental gaze, and finish explaining the plot of the book.
"Shut up," I grumble. "It's about a town that gets taken over by vampires, and everyone has to come together to fight them off; a lot of crazy shit happens. It's almost impossible to find a first edition that doesn't cost over seven grand."
His eyes widen at me before he looks back down at the book. "That much for this?"
I hum in response, nodding my head. "And this one is only a hundred," I state, pointing to the price tag stuck to the back cover. I take the book from him, holding it close to my chest. "I'm getting it."
Harry rolls his eyes at me, shaking his head as I continue to walk down the aisle. "You're insane," he scoffs, following close behind me.
"I like horror books, okay? Sue me."
"I like them, too," he chuckles. "But there's way better genres out there."
"Okay; what do you like to read, then?" I ask, turning around to face him as his fingers trace over the book spines on the shelf in front of him.
He pulls his lips to the side as his cheeks turn a bright shade of pink, avoiding my gaze. "You'll laugh," he mumbles.
"No I won't," I assure him, furrowing my brows. "Tell me."
"Romance," he mutters, barely loud enough for me to hear. I blink a few times, wondering if I heard him correctly.
"Romance?" I repeat, a smile playing on my lips as he shoots me a glare.
"You said you wouldn't laugh."
"I'm not laughing! I'm just... surprised," I admit.
"Sometimes it's nice to read about love in that way, even if it doesn't happen in real life," he sighs, pulling himself away from the shelf and sauntering towards the records.
His statement causes my heart to clench, and I stand frozen as I watch him walk away. Maybe it's the hopeless romantic in me, but I fully believe the love that's written in those books is possible; you just have to find the right person.
I take a deep breath and start to follow him. "Who says?" I ask, jogging to catch up to him. He turns to look at me with a confused expression. "Who says it doesn't happen in real life?"
He scoffs at me, rolling his eyes as he begins flipping through a box of records. "Have you ever heard of a love like in those books?"
"Of course I have," I pout, resting my elbow on the box in front of me. "My parents."
He shifts his attention to me, stopping his movements as a look of disbelief flashes across his face. "Really?" He asks incredulously.
"Yes, it's a really sweet story actually."
"I'm listening," he says, leaning against the wall with crossed arms as he waits for me to continue.
"I think they were about eighteen or nineteen," I begin, giggling to myself as I think back to the story my parents told me and my sister when we were kids. "My mom was out walking her dog, Sammy, while my dad was just sitting outside of his house; they lived in the same neighborhood for years and they didn't even know it. Anyway, Sammy saw a cat, and got out of his collar to start chasing it down the road, and of course my mom was terrified, so she started running after him. My dad saw Sammy run by first, and heard her screaming for him, and my dad took off to try and catch him. Somehow, my dad was able to grab Sammy before he ran in front of a car, and he said he could barely form a sentence as he was handing Sammy back to her; the way he described it was love at first sight."
Harry rolls his eyes at the story, and although I can tell he doesn't believe me, I keep going anyway. "I know it sounds cheesy, but my dad offered to walk them back home because it was getting dark," I smile, fiddling with the spine of the book still in my hands. "And he asked her on a date right then and there. It was a slow burn at first, but eventually, my dad swept her off of her feet. They were together for almost thirty years, and when they died, they still loved each other just as much as they did way back then."
Harry's face falls as I finish my retelling, but I can't help but smile as I think about how grateful I am that I was able to grow up with parents that showed me what true love really looks like. They were prime examples that soul mates exist.
"That kind of thing is rare, though," he breathes, pushing himself off the wall to continue browsing the records that are in front of him.
"But it happens," I hum, walking along the wall until I reach the Pop Punk section. "And knowing that it does is good enough for me."
We both stay quiet as we flip through our respective boxes of old vinyls, until I finally clear my throat. "Do you have a record player? I don't remember seeing one in your apartment."
"I, uh, I used to," he hesitates. "I kind of broke it one night while I was high."
My eyes widen as I turn to look at him; he's holding up a Metallica vinyl, inspecting the tattered cover. "You- how?" I stammer.
"It's a long story," he says, glancing at me nervously for a second. I roll my lips into my mouth, regretting saying anything. "It was a rough night, and I got angry, and I smashed it. It was a gift, so I felt like a total asshole after."
"Oh," is all I can think to say; it's not my place to keep prying. Plus, he's finally started to open up to me, I don't want to scare him away.
"Are you finding anything good?" He asks, walking over and leaning over the table next to me.
"Not really," I shrug.
"Come on, let's get out of here," he nudges me with his shoulder. "There's somewhere else I want to take you."
I go to look up at him, but he's already walking back to the front of the store. I quickly follow behind him to pay for my book, before we make the short walk back to his car.
"Where are we going?" I ask as I buckle my seat belt. He pulls out of his parking spot, placing his sunglasses over his eyes and handing me his phone with Spotify opened up.
"You'll see," he smirks, gesturing to his phone with a nod. "Put something on."
I hesitate before finding an early two thousand's post-hardcore playlist. I don't even know if it's something Harry will like, but we seem to have similar tastes in music. A loud gasp leaves my lips as the first song starts playing, the familiar sound of an electric guitar filling the small space.
"No fucking way!" I laugh, reaching for the knob to turn the volume up. Harry glances at me with a bewildered look on his face at my reaction, his expression softening when he sees my excitement. "I haven't heard this song in so long."
I turn to look at him right before the first verse; he's shaking his head playfully with a smirk on his face. I ball my hand into a fist, raising it to my mouth like it's a microphone.
"Dare me to jump off of this Jersey bridge! I'll bet you've never had a Friday night like this!" I shout the lyrics at the top of my lungs, keeping my eyes on Harry as I sing. "Keep it up, keep it up, let's raise our hands! I take a look up at the sky and I see red!"
I hold my fist towards him, urging him to sing along. I can tell he knows the song by the way his fingers tap against the steering wheel to the beat, but he just shakes his head at me.
"Absolutely not," he says loudly over the music.
"Please, won't you push me for the last time? Let's scream until there's nothing left!" I shout again, continuing on while shaking my hair around my face. "So sick of playing, I don't want this anymore!"
"The thought of you is no fucking fun! You want a martyr? I'll be one!" Harry finally joins in, causing me to throw my head back in laughter. He tries to keep his eyes on the road while leaning towards me to sing along. "Because enough's enough, we're done!"
"You told me think about it, well I did! Now I don't wanna feel a thing anymore!"
The both of us try to contain our laughter as we continue shouting, and I realize that, for the first time since we met, Harry has a smile on his face. It's a genuine smile, not the cocky smirk he usually wears. It's such a nice smile, too.
"I'm tired of begging for the things that I want! I'm over sleeping like a dog on the floor!"
I stop my singing to take a deep breath before the next verse, but Harry beats me to it. "The thing I think I love will surely bring me pain! Intoxication, paranoia, and a lot of fame!"
He rolls down the windows, shouting outside as the people on the street stare at us like we're insane; I can't help but laugh as we fly past them.
I quickly take a deep breath before joining back in. "Three cheers for throwing up, pubescent drama queen! You make me sick, I make it worse by drinking late!"
Harry grabs my hand that's still balled into a fist, and holds it up to his mouth to sing into it. "Scream until there's nothing left! So sick of playing, I don't want to anymore! The thought of you is no fucking fun! You want a martyr? I'll be one!"
I have to stop myself from cracking up at his dramatic performance, covering my face with the hand he isn't holding. My hair whips around as the wind blows through it, and for the first time in a long time, I feel happy.
I feel free.
I attempt to contain myself long enough to start singing again, but struggle to bite back my laughter as I get the words out. "Imagine living like a king someday! A single night without a ghost in the walls! And if the bass shakes the earth underground, we'll start a new revolution now!"
The music softens briefly before it builds back up to the bridge, and I use my hands to animatedly strum the air like a guitar.
Just before the lyrics start back up again, Harry's loud voice stops me. "Alright, here we go!"
"Hail Mary, forgive me! Blood for blood, hearts beating! Come at me! Now this is war!" We shout together again, my cheeks burning from the endless smile glued to my face.
We both have to stop to catch our breath as the bridge plays on, and I watch as Harry pushes his long hair off of his face; he looks over at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, panting dramatically like a dog. The sight causes me to lose myself in a fit of giggles again, and he focuses back on the road with a chuckle; he's smiling so wide that I can see a deep dimple embedded into his cheek.
He looks over at me one more time before the last chorus begins to play. "You ready?" He asks, his brows raised expectantly.
I nod my head quickly, and ball my hand up into a fist one last time, holding it between us. "You told me think about it, well I did! Now I don't wanna feel a thing anymore! I'm tired of begging for the things that I want! I'm over sleeping like a dog on the floor!"
With his eyes still on the road, Harry leans into me, resting his shoulder against mine before the song wraps up.
"Imagine living like a king someday! A single night without a ghost in the walls! We are the shadows screaming, take us now! We'd rather die than live to rust on the ground!"
"Shit!" Harry shouts the last word of the song before the music cuts out, and I reach over to turn the volume down again.
I feel completely winded from all of the singing and laughing, and I notice Harry still has a bright smile on his face as his chest heaves up and down. I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard, and I can feel the residual ache in my abdomen. It's a welcomed feeling, though. One that I'm not used to, but wish I could experience more often.
"I didn't know you could scream like that," I huff, pulling my hair up into a ponytail to keep it off of my face, which is now sticky with sweat.
"I was in a metal band in secondary school," he states, pulling off of the freeway. "I was the lead singer."
My jaw drops at his admission, and I stare at him with wide eyes. "Are you serious?" I laugh. "What was your band called?"
He purses his lips as he turns onto a long, windy road, and my mind wanders to where he could be taking me. "Bad Decision," he mumbles, shaking his head with a chuckle.
"Your band's name was Bad Decision?"
He hums, nodding his head. "And it was a bad decision," he jokes, making me giggle quietly. "We were terrible."
"Well, you sounded pretty good just now," I state, looking out the window for any sign as to where we're going. "Why did you stop?"
"I wanted to focus on my art," he shrugs. "Finding an apprenticeship meant more to me than some shitty band."
"I understand that," I smile. "I think that's really cool."
A gentle puff of air escapes through his nose in response to my sentiment, and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth to hold back my smile. Harry and I have been getting along so well today, it's almost scary, but I'm trying not to think about it too much. I think we both needed a break from everything we've gone through these last few weeks.
I turn to look back out the window, and I let out an excited gasp when I see a sign that indicates we're driving towards the beach. I can hear Harry chuckle under his breath at my reaction.
"Are we going to the beach?" I ask excitedly.
I haven't been to the ocean in so long; I haven't had time, nor a means to get there. It's my favorite place in the world.
"Surprise," he smirks, turning into a big parking lot to the side of the Santa Monica pier.
I can see the brightly colored ferris wheel turning slowly, and crowds of people walking along the boardwalk. The beach is pretty empty, seeing as though it's the middle of November; I'm sure the water is freezing.
The second he parks the car, just in front of the sand, I pull my Vans off to run down to the water. I hear Harry call my name, but I ignore him as I nearly trip over my own feet trying to make it to the crashing waves ahead of me. When I finally reach the shoreline, I roll my pants up as far as they will go before stepping into the freezing water.
I let out a loud squeal at the temperature as Harry jogs up to me. "Jesus, you're fast," he huffs, placing his hands on his knees and bending over in an attempt to catch his breath.
"You're just slow," I tease, walking a little further into the water.
"Isn't that cold?" He asks, standing just out of reach of the waves.
"It's not so bad once you get used to it," I assure him. I turn around to face him, and see that he's holding his dark converse in one hand, while his black, button-up shirt ruffles against his abdomen from the wind. "Come on!"
He furrows his brows at me, shaking his head. "Absolutely not!" He shouts. "I don't want to get wet."
"Please!" I whine, crossing my arms in front of me while I stick my bottom lip out in a pout. He glances around nervously, and I can see him mutter something under his breath before he tosses his shoes into the sand.
"Fuck, fine," He groans, rolling his tight black jeans up his tattooed shins. Hesitantly, he places one foot in the water, hissing loudly. "That's freezing!"
"Oh, you're such a big baby!"
Harry drops his mouth open, placing his hand against his chest and scoffing jokingly. "Katie, I'm hurt."
I roll my eyes at him, and turn back around to face the ocean. The sun is beginning to set, causing the orange rays to reflect off of the dark blue water. I listen carefully to the sound of the waves hitting the pier, and to the screams and laughter of the people walking across the wooden platform. I take in a deep breath through my nose, the smell of salt water flooding my senses. Everything is so tranquil in this moment.
I feel so at peace.
I'm startled out of my thoughts by Harry's arm brushing against mine as he stands next to me, his teeth quietly chattering from the cold.
"My family and I used to go to the beach almost every weekend," I sigh, a soft smile playing on my lips as I keep my arms crossed tightly in front of me. "Coronado was our favorite."
"That one is beautiful," Harry says softly, tucking his hands into his front pockets.
"My sister and I used to run across the sand for hours, just admiring the gold scattered throughout it," I chuckle, remembering how fascinated we were with the shimmering sand, no matter how many times we'd been.
"Look, Mal," I gasp, pointing down at the gold flecks under my feet. "It's so pretty!"
"I want to take it home with us!" Mallory shouts, bending down to scoop the wet sand into her hands.
"No, we have to leave it here," I scold her, brushing the glob back onto the ground. "This is where it belongs. We can always come back and visit, though."
Harry clears his throat, brushing the hair that's blown onto his face back. "Have you gone back? Since, well..." He mutters, clearly trying to choose his words carefully.
I shake my head, pulling my lips to the side. "No," I lament. "It almost feels like it would be disrespectful, you know? For me to be able to enjoy that special place, when they can't anymore."
I feel the corners of my eyes begin to prick with tears, and I bring my sleeve up to wipe them away.
"You know," Harry starts, placing his arm over my shoulder to pull me into him. "I think they would want you to enjoy it. If anything, you would be honoring their memory, not disrespecting it."
I look up at him, my bottom lip quivering as I absorb his words. I've never told anyone about how special Coronado is to me, and why I haven't gone back since the accident, not even Cass. I've always felt like it was my own little secret, one that I had to protect from the outside world.
"Have you ever heard of Kintsugi?" Harry wonders, looking down to meet my eyes; I shake my head in response. "It's a centuries-old practice from Japan, where they take a piece of broken pottery, and glue the parts back together with gold. Every repaired piece is unique; the scars become part of the design, creating a new, unique piece of art."
"That's beautiful," I sniff, looking back out over the water.
"Your past doesn't have to be something that can't be repaired, something that is just a reminder of how damaged you think you are," he continues. "You can take it, and turn it into something beautiful, Katie; something whole."
I furrow my brows as I attempt to process everything he just said, everything he just put into perspective for me. Harry, the man who has made my life a living hell, who has threatened to kill me, and who's gotten me wrapped into a horrible nightmare, just comforted me in a way that no one else has ever been able to do.
He understands me.
I feel a rush of sadness and relief, two things I never thought would go together, hit me like the waves that are still crashing into my legs. A choked sob slips from my mouth, and I cover my face with my hands as my body shakes from the emotions that were begging to escape.
Harry reaches his other arm around me to wrap me into a hug, and I feel him place a gentle kiss on the top of my head as he holds me while I cry into him for the second time in the last twenty-four hours.
I'm not sure how long we end up standing there, but by the time I finally calm down, it's nearly dark. I take a deep breath before pulling away from him, wiping the sticky tears from my cheeks with the pads of my fingers.
"Come on, let's get you home," Harry coos, taking my hand in his to lead me back to his car.
The drive to my apartment is mostly silent, aside from Born Without Bones playing softly through the speakers. When we finally reach my building, Harry parks right in front, and I feel relief wash over me. It will be nice to take a shower, and curl up in my own bed tonight.
"I'll wash your shirt tonight and bring it to work tomorrow," Harry clears his throat, turning his body to face me.
"Thank you," I whisper, a tired smile creeping onto my lips. "For everything, I mean. I really needed today."
"I know," he nods, a playful smirk on his face. "I had fun."
"Me too," I agree. I unbuckle my seatbelt, and grab my bag before reaching for the door handle. "Goodnight, Harry."
Just as I'm about to open the passenger door, I feel Harry's hand grab onto my arm softly. "Wait," he breathes.
I turn my head to look at him, and notice a nervous expression flash across his face. Before I can say anything, he brings his left hand up to my cheek to pull me towards him, roughly pressing his lips against mine. The action catches me off guard but, after a moment, I allow myself to melt into him, our lips moving together seamlessly.
His tongue slips past my lips, tangling with mine as we find a perfect rhythm, one that causes my stomach to flutter, and my cheeks to feel as if they're on fire. After a few minutes, our movements slow, and I pull myself away from him, my eyes meeting his.
His intense gaze makes my breath catch in my throat, and I struggle to piece my words together. As I stare at his pink, parted lips, my mind racing, I finally build up the courage to speak.
"D- Do you want to come inside?"
~~~~~
Holy shit you guys! Thank you so so much for 19.9k! I'm literally in disbelief. I'm so grateful for everyone that takes the time to read, vote, and comment on BLACKHOUSE. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. I love you all dearly <3