Black

XLIV

I tied the black apron around my waist as my hand traveled down the fabric of the uniform subconsciously.

It was a simple uniform: A dark green shirt, khaki knee-length shorts, and a black apron.

"It's good to see you here!" Niall chirped as he came to stand beside me behind the counter.

I offered him a polite smile, "Bob told me to ask you about what I was going to do here," I said, my voice coming out so hoarse as if I had just come out of a screaming match.

"Sister healed and infected you?" He smiled, cocking his head to the side, "But, we all here don't have a specific role; we all help each other. You could be taking orders by the cashier a second and serving or preparing orders another second, it depends on how busy the place is."

I nodded, taking a look around the place. Most of the tables were occupied.

"Though for now, you can stand by the cashier."

"Okay," I said and stood behind the grey machine.

"Oh, wait!" Niall said, startling me with his sudden loud voice.

I cleared my throat as I noticed the few heads that turned towards us and moved my eyes gradually to Niall, sending him a questioning look.

"I forgot to give you your name tag," he said, fetching a rectangular-shaped pin from his apron's pocket and handing it to me, not affected by the eyes that rested on him.

I took it from him, moving my finger over the four-lettered name before pinning it to my shirt, "Thanks."

He gave me a thumbs up before walking to the other girl standing by the coffee machine.

Ruby was her name as Niall told me.

"She is sweet, but try not to mess anything she orders because she will bite your head off. She has got OCD."

And she was beautiful.

Her short, brown curly hair that framed her face complemented her brown complexation so well.

She turned her head to Niall, smiling as she said something and shook her head, making her bangs move from side to side.

I shifted my eyes back to the front of the place, not wanting her brown eyes to catch me staring.

Creating rumors for being a creep here too on my first day wasn't exactly on the top of my to-do list.

Although I was sure I was being anxious, I had a feeling all eyes watched my every move, questioning my new dull face in the place.

I thrummed my fingers on the counter, trying to distract myself.

It has only been a half an hour since I stepped into the coffee shop and I already wanted to throw my body on a soft bed.

Harry insisted on driving me here, just like he insisted on waiting until I finished talking to Bob because I knew an apology was appropriate after not attending the first couple of days.

Bob, thankfully, was understanding, claiming that Niall had already apologized for me, then he told me that he might look nice, but he knows well how to be mad when his employees don't do their jobs correctly.

I was only able to mutter continuous apologies with my head down, my mind not able to come up with anything else.

My mind was going through a blackout. It has been a blank canva since yesterday.

I looked down at my hands that haven't stopped shaking since, again, yesterday.

I attempted hiding it, but it was so obvious when we were eating lunch. The way I couldn't place a spoonful of the food into my mouth without half of it falling back into the plate was pretty obvious.

To my luck, Harry didn't address it all.

I lifted the tissue in my hand, wiping my runny nose as my eyes ran over the tables.

Such a small, simple place that holds a lot of stories.

The story of the sad girl with the headphones and head leaned against the wall. The story of the stressed mum trying to calm down her crying baby. The story of the boy who shook his leg nervously as he looked around, evidently waiting for someone.

The story of me falling gradually into insanity's arms.

I clenched my free hand, digging my nails as deep as I could into my palms.

Maybe I should have agreed to Harry's offer of staying in the coffee shop after all.

Maybe once I would have looked into his green eyes, my mind would have gone blank again--the good kind of blankness.

"Black," someone called.

I turned my head to Niall who cocked his head subtly to something in front of me.

Shifting my eyes back to the cashier, I found a man in a suit looking like he was in his early thirties.

How long has he been standing there?

I cleared my throat, "Good afternoon, are you ready to order?"

"Yes, in fact, I already stated my order, but you clearly have better things to think of," he said sharply, his features screwing up in annoyance.

Do not snap at him. Do not snap at him. Do not snap at him.

I looked down, "I'm sorry, what's your order?"

"An espresso with an extra shot."

I nodded as he slammed the money on the counter and walked away.

"Someone replace his espresso with a cup of calm the hell down," Ruby said from my left, her low and husky voice that didn't match her honey-like features taking me by surprise.

I huffed, moving my hands over my face, "Concentrate, Black," I whispered.

"Don't upset yourself over him, New Yorkers are sort of rude sometimes," Niall said, pressing his hand to my back.

Even though I knew he was doing it for comfort, my body tensed under his touch.

I nodded, faking a smile as he returned it with a genuine one and went back to work.

Five customers later, Niall told me to leave the cashier and help him with serving the orders since the place started getting too crowded.

I picked up a tray of two coffee cups and a plate of cookies, reading the number of the table to which the order belonged.

Looking around, I recited the numbers of the tables Niall had told me about a few minutes ago and walked to the one in the middle.

Table number 8.

The tray shook slightly in my grasp, making me hold it tighter as I looked out for every step I took.

I stepped towards the table where the boy once sat alone, now accompanied by a brunette.

My eyes fell on the table behind it and froze.

A guy wearing a hoodie occupied the table--a gray hoodie with its hood over his head.

My heart dropped, then everything started happening so quickly.

My attempt to restrain my hand from shaking was forgotten once I saw that guy, and so one of the coffee cups fell on the tray; the hot liquid biting the skin on my hand off.

As a reflex, my hands let go of the tray, sending it clattering to the floor as the coffee spilled all over the place and the plate of cookies broke.

Yet my eyes remained on the boy who stood up like everyone around me.

Too tall.

Too broad.

He removed the hood off his head, revealing his face.

Not him.

Then everything started going slowly.

Niall and Ruby were by my side, their faces worried as their eyes skimmed over me.

The people who sat at the tables around me were all up, either looking at me in annoyance or looking down at themselves or their kids worryingly.

And those who sat in tables farther were also on their feet, looking at me with curiosity and wide eyes as they moved from a foot to another to be able to see me through those who stood in front of them.

Bob was out of his office, his mouth repeating the same words over and over again.

"Is everyone okay?!"

My chest tightened again, the feeling of the whole room pressing on me returning at full force.

I gasped and backed away, first taking small steps, then running to the door that led to the bathroom.

I closed the door behind me and locked it, resting my back against it as I tried to regulate my breathing.

My legs felt weak as I leaned against the sink and opened the faucet.

A knock erupted through the small room.

"Josie,"

Small black dots started filling my vision.

"Josie, baby, it's fine. Just turn the lock around."

I fumbled with the lock of the door, but it refused to turn around.

"Mummy, I can't breathe," I said in gasps, tears streaming down my hot face.

"It's fine, it's fine, you are going to be okay; you are going to get out of there, just turn the lock of the door around."

"Black, can you hear me?" An Irish voice penetrated through the door.

The world closed up on me as I sobbed, "I can't breathe."

My mother banged on the door harder, "Petal, just move the small lock under the knob of the door."

I reached for the lock again and turned it around, but this time I turned it the opposite way.

The door opened as I fell in her arms and she hugged me tightly, "It's okay, breathe, you are fine now," she said, moving her hand over my cheek, but no air entered my body.

"Think of a happy place," she said, rocking us back and forth, "remember when daddy took you and Adam to that soccer game? Remember how happy you were? And how daddy got bo-"

I shook my head as I leaned more against the sink, blocking the image that was about to form in my head.

Think of a happy place.

I closed my eyes.

Think of a happy place.

My eyes brimmed with tears.

Think of a happy place.

An image of Zoella smiling took place in my mind, but she wasn't alone. She was carried by Harry who inched closer and planted a kiss on her cheek, as they both bore broad smiles and eyes full of glee.

The image repeated itself over and over again until my heartbeat steadied.

I opened my eyes, taking a long breath as I sighed.

Cupping some water in my hand, I splashed my red face several times and willed the tears to stay at bay.

Stop acting like a baby, my conscience spat.

I grabbed some tissues and dried my face before throwing my hair in a bun, my left hand burning as I opened the door.

Ruby and Niall were both standing in front of the door, the shop back to its peacefulness and the mess I made cleaned.

"You good?" Niall's blue eyes searched mine; Ruby beside him quiet. "Are your hands alright?"

Though in pain, "I'm okay," I said, as he nodded reluctantly.

I moved past them, tracing my way back to Bob's office for yet another apology.

~

My eyes fell on the guy with the curls, leaning against the side of his car, in front of the coffee shop as I was finally done with my shift.

His toned, tattooed arms were folded against his chest; his eyebrows knitted together as he bit down on his lip.

Without talking to him, I knew Niall had already told him about what happened.

He didn't make a move in walking to me. He just stood there, watching me with so much attention as all I wanted was for the jacket I wore to cover me whole.

I looked back at the shop.

It was way empty now, getting back to the comfortable and silent place you could get lost in and take a break from the world.

To my luck, I didn't do anything stupid for the rest of my shift and went back to working behind the cashier.

Niall, on the other hand, kept pestering me to apply a salve on my hand, and at the end I obliged.

The burn wasn't that bad, but the boy doesn't shut up.

I caught Niall and Ruby working behind the counter, their shifts not done yet, as I looked back at Harry.

Sighing, I placed my left foot ahead of the other and slowly made my way to Harry's car.

Zoe didn't tell me that he was coming when I called her a while ago. I had in mind to walk to the house and breathe some fresh air through my blocked nose, hoping it would clear my head.

I stood in front of him, and he yet kept silent.

Up close, I could see how his sickness affected his features. His eyes were a pale shade of green and were framed by black half moons. His nose was a bright shade of red.

The straight posture he usually held was slumped as he licked his brighter than usual pink lips, "Let's go," he said, breaking the silence first as he tipped his head to the side.

I forgot to add how I was receiving an almost silent treatment from him.

Head lower than usual, I reached for the door beside him to get in.

His arm shot up to my stomach, pushing me slightly away from the door.

Tipping his head in the other direction again, "This way," he said.

I furrowed my eyebrows and looked back at the car doubtfully, wasn't this his car?

"It is my car," he added as if he could read my mind, "we are going to have a walk. I gave my car keys to Niall; he will drive it back to the house later tonight as I asked."

I shook my head, "Let's just go back home with the car. You are sick," I said, meeting his gaze again.

He stared at me for a few seconds that felt like hours, making me wonder if I had said something wrong.

Maybe he wasn't offering to walk because it looked like I needed it, and I just jumped to the conclusion that he was doing it for me.

Just when I was about to correct myself, his eyes started softening as he stepped towards me, closing the distance between us.

He sighed, the puff of air brushing my cheeks, "I never heard you refer to anything as home before." My ears rang with the sound of my heartbeat as realization dawned on me. "C'mon, we are doing this for both of us," he changed the topic, squeezing my hand, and began walking.

I took a deep breath and followed suit.

Home. I called his house home.

The stay I claimed would be short in his house had changed a lot of things between us; had made the house feel like home.

My mind, afraid of what it would think of next, fell back into the void.

Chest tight, steps heavy, and head empty, I walked beside Harry as my eyes gave up its job in examining every inch of the street.

Even Harry walked silently.

I could tell there was something bothering him, and I didn't know if it was me or if it was something else.

By time, the streets got busier as barely anyone gave us a second glance.

We were two ghosts in a big city, fighting to live.

Harry's hand wrapped around mine all of a sudden, pulling me to walk in a different direction and away from the people.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I studied where we were going.

It was a playground—one that looked abandoned.

A dark spot between all the lights. It looked like it didn't belong there.

Swings flew with the wind, sending shivers down my body.

Harry led us past a blue slide and a couple of animal springers to a bench that faced the playground, before letting go of my hand and sitting down.

Without asking questions on what we were doing here, I sat beside him.

A couple of trees surrounded the place, giving some life to it.

I sighed, slumping against the too uncomfortable bench.

Harry moved beside me, clearing his throat, "You can cry now."

I raised my eyebrows, looking at him, "I don't want to cry."

He didn't face me; instead, he watched the ghostly moving swings, "It's okay to c-"

"I don't want to cry," I snapped before looking the other way.

I didn't want to cry.

I wanted to take revenge before I was thrown into an asylum. I wanted to end this for good. I wanted a lot of stuff, and crying was a need I kept on scratching out with a black marker.

I was more confused than ever.

"How about crying now?"

I huffed and got up, walking away from him to god knows where.

He was annoying me, and I didn't know if it was on purpose or not.

I was stronger than this—I needed to be stronger than this.

"Black," he called after me as his boots crunched some of the leaves that fell off the trees. "Damn it, Black!"

Shortly after, his arms were around me as his chest rose and fell rapidly against my back.

"Let go," I gritted as I struggled to get out of his grip.

He tightened his arms around me.

I pulled at his arms, but it was to no avail, "I said, let go," I said, breathing harshly. When he made no sign to move, I started hitting his arms, wriggling, "Harry, let go!" I shouted.

He was a statue behind me, not hearing a word I said; only tightening his grasp around me.

Nothing I did in the next few seconds affected him—absolutely nothing.

He was causing all the confusion and the pain to turn into anger that boiled inside me, making my hands shake harder.

I turned and twisted one last time before looking up at the sky and screaming in frustration.

Then the anger turned back into pain—tremendous pain.

Before I could process anything, my face was wet with tears, and my hands were pounding hard against his arms.

He let go of me to pull me back into his embrace, but this time my face was pushed to his chest as his hand rested on my head.

Here I was having another breakdown in his arms.

I sobbed, wetting his shirt with the Niagara Falls that now replaced my eyes.

I was overwhelmed and tired.

"No one wants to believe me," I said between sobs, breaking into pieces in his embrace, "I don't believe me!"

"I believe you."

I shook my head, "No, you don't." I gripped his shirt and trusted him again with my broken and vulnerable self.

"I'm just worried about you, Josephine. I'm worried where all of this will lead you to," he said in a tone that sounded so broken too.

But all I could do was shake my head repeatedly and cry.

He eventually pulled me back to the bench, and we just sat there with me crying and him moving his fingers through my hair gently until I was only a mess of sniffles.

I still felt empty on the inside, but somehow I was better than before.

I had my head rested against the back of the bench, that I was so slumped on I was about to fall, when Harry's fingers lifted my chin up to him.

Our eyes locked and he so hesitantly moved his face down to mine and stopped an inch away.

My heart fluttered as he moved his head closer, then shifted his eyes to the tear that was making its way down my face, before leaning in and pressing his lips to it.

I closed my eyes, shivering, "Did it taste good?" I cracked and opened my eyes to find him staring back at me.

His brows lifted and a faint smile touched the corners of his lips as he nodded.

I didn't know how long did we remain in the uncomfortable positions we sat in, just staring at each other in the eyes.

And I didn't know how to react when his eyes shifted to my lips, and he was slowly leaning back in as he brushed his lips against mine.

But it wasn't like the stories said it would be.

I didn't feel the electricity or the butterflies or the sparks; I felt a desperate attempt to take my pain away.

I never thought this would be my reaction if Harry got this close to me. I thought I would slap him and push him away—deny any feelings towards him.

But all I wanted to do was to close my eyes for an eternity, and just enjoy his soft lips that were merely touching mine.

As if pulled by a magnet, he suddenly pulled back with wide eyes, "I'm sorry, I didn't know why I did that—I shouldn't ha-"

Before he could complete, my mouth decided to move on its own accord, "I'm probably going to regret saying this when I regain stability," I said, trying not to cringe at my hoarse voice as the tiny sane part of me begged me to stop talking. "I told you a thousand times before to leave me alone, and now I want to beg you to stay beside me for as long as it takes."

My eyes, working on its own accord as well, started filling with tears as I watched his tensed muscles relax and the panic leave his eyes.

He smiled a smile that reached his eyes and leaned in to hug me.

I rested my head on his shoulder and willed my mind to take me to a world where happy me only existed.

"I promise."

~