to be so lonely • hs

thirty four

I watched from my doorstep as Harry's car drove off, yawning into a sigh as I made my way back inside.

We'd gotten up earlier than usual so he'd have time to wash up and get ready for work at his own place, and so I'd have time to pick up Madison.

It was pleasant, opening my eyes and allowing realization to set in that the warmth beside me wasn't from a blanket, but from Harry's still sleeping body. I'd be lying if I said I didn't shut my eyes for a few minutes longer and listened to the familiar sound of his gentle snore. I'd also be lying if I'd said that the peacefulness of the morning wasn't interrupted by a sudden but painful headache and the reminder of the drinks I thought were a good idea only in the moment.

Harry woke up shortly after, and we laid in silence for a few seconds before he raised his head and turned to me, the two of us laughing to ease up on the sudden awareness of where we were, and why.

I started a coffee for the two of us while he used the loo, and did my best to soak in what it was like to listen to him humming in the bedroom while he slipped on his shoes again, and the quiet conversation we made as we drank the coffee, tiredness in both our eyes. It all still felt so natural for us.

Eventually, though, I was sat at my desk again, tapping away at my keyboard as I sent off emails and drafted up ideas.

"This absolutely blows." Madison groaned, leaning over her desk so her forehead rested against her arms, a water bottle gripped between her fingers.

"It wasn't the best idea we've had." I agreed, my voice quiet as any volume louder than it would've only worsened the headache.

"Your mate's a real champ for picking us up so late on a weekday." She raised her head and brought the bottle to her lips, shutting her eyes as she drank.

"He is, isn't he?" I nodded, spinning my chair back towards my own desk. I sighed and thought for a moment, how grateful I was he'd agreed to get us, and even more so that he stayed with me. I wasn't sure I'd thanked him enough.

I reached over for my phone and clicked on our message thread, then began typing.

thanks again for last night, for all of it

I sent the message and got back to my ideations, receiving a response just a few minutes later.

Not a problem.

He responded, Then once more.

I think we need to talk later.

I furrowed my eyebrows at the message, my stomach quickly joining the ache from my head. I didn't want to start conspiracizing what he wanted to talk about, but there were quite a bit of possibilities from which my mind could linger.

sure, we can talk. i'll be free tonight

I sent the message and silenced my phone until break, if only to make an attempt at getting actual work done rather than spending my entire shift worrying.

The rest of my time at work continued away from my phone, and once I sat in my car getting ready to leave for home, I checked his response. He'd be stopping by later, once he was off, which was typically about an hour from now.

I awaited his arrival while watching television and eating dinner, my foot tapping anxiously against the wooden floors.

The thing that worried me, I think, was that Harry wasn't the confrontational type. Back when we'd have a problem in our relationship or something bothered him, he didn't let me know unless I begged it out of him. Whether it was something as little as not saying goodbye before leaving off on an errand or more serious like if I'd unknowingly made him feel bad about something.