His feet hit against the ground as dust picked up around him, almost swallowing him whole. Though anger seized him earlier, he couldn't say he was angry now. It was as if the anger left him with his steps, and he walked on. It was at least an hour after this fight with Lucy, and he moved on. It was impossible for him to be mad at her for too long, and he hoped she felt the same way. He refused to go to bed angry tonight. However, Harry decided to give Lucy space. They both needed to breathe.
Harry rounded the slum village for the eleventh time, and he thought about going back to the slum he shared with her. After a moment of hesitation, he walked around again. Lucy may have been right, he decided, as the dry heat slowly turned into humid heat. Rare rain was coming.
Her eyes haunted him, circling his mind and holding it close. Her eyes were dangerous. Her anger rolled off in waves. He pushed her too far, all for a kiss, and she kissed back. But, he didn't know what he did. Maybe, he thought, he didn't do anything. It wasn't him. But whatever the kiss meant was what destroyed her. Was it was the first time she had been kissed since the shooting? Perhaps, Lucy kissed him back, feeling free for the first time in forever, and she was brought back to the reality that was torn apart around her.
Making it around the slum village, he stopped outside the slum they shared. Harry gathered as much confidence as he could and entered the slum. He expected her to still be angry, whether she yelled at him or just ignored him. However, when he entered, Lucy was gone. Her stuff was still there, organized and clean. Her bed was made. She was gone.
The air was still and warm within the slum. Nothing moved. The thick air threatened to eat Harry whole. His footsteps brought him farther into the room, maybe to check if she hid somewhere. She was gone.
His heart deflated. All the confidence he was disappeared. Loneliness crept into him.
Realizing, she couldn't have gone far, he left their slum and entered the humid heat. Harry looked left and right, and she could've hid in another slum if she really wanted to escape him. Harry knew her too well though. His feet took him over to schoolhouse, and this was where he found her.
Her journal was pulled up to her chest as she wrote, watching her black pen write across the page quickly. The journal had once been shiny, though dulled over time. The pages were pushed and wedged, some smeared and others cut, with little rips here and there. All of them belonged to her. As she wrote, only so many pages to left in the an expensive notebook of leather with red roses, this was her story, everything she ever felt. Harry wished to runaway, but out of the corner of her eyes, she watched him. He entered silently. The door was the only thing that made sound, even though his heart thundered in his mind.
"Are you writing about me?" Harry asked, knowing it was only her business. His voice cracked.
"You wish." Lucy finished with her sentence and looked at him, giving her undivided attention. "I'm sorry about earlier."
"I'm sorry too."
Perhaps Lucy was at fault. Perhaps Harry was at fault. Perhaps there was no one to blame. There was to be no winner anyhow.
"Lucy," Harry began, "I realize you don't want a relationship."
"I just want to survive."
She didn't realize how those words hit Harry, but he agreed. "But you are a great friend to me, and I want to continue being your friend. I don't think we'll see each other again once we get out of here. I don't know what your plans are, but I don't think they involve being in the spotlight. Any time you're with me, you'll be in the spotlight. There's no escaping it. There's no hiding from it." Lucy nodded her head solemnly. Pain prickled in his heart in her agreement. "But I want to be your friend. I'll be whatever you want us to be as long as we're here." He took a step toward her, realizing how quiet the room stood without their students. "This is hard for me too, Lucy."
"I know." She paused. "I can tell."
"What do you want to be?"
Setting her journal down beside her, she stood. "I want to be more, Harry, but we'll never have a life out there."
"We still have a month together."
"Yes."
"Can I make it count?" he asked. When she didn't respond, he continued, "I will go at whatever pace you want. If you don't want this, you just have to tell me. But this month I have with you before we go back to our other lives, I want."
"Why?" she questioned.
"I feel free with you." That was one of many things he felt with her. Harry hadn't felt so free in years. "I feel human with you, and I feel alive. It is easier to breathe around you." His feet moved. "The colors are brighter, and you make things easy. I... I get frustrated around you, and it's not because you're mysterious. You hide stuff, sure; everyone does. But you do it for an actual purpose. It's not to reel me in or play a game with me." Harry stopped in front of her. "You're real. You make me feel normal."
"I'm not normal."
"Thank God for that." A smile tugged at his lips.
Lucy grinned too, with nothing else to do. "You have a month, Harry."
"We do."
"You do," she corrected. "Show me this is worth it."
"You don't trust me?"
"I do. I don't trust the world. It hasn't exactly been kind."
He nodded in understanding. "Then let us start." Harry held out his hand to her. After a moment, she took it. Leading the way, he took her back to their slum.