Incandescent | H.S

Part Thirty: Raw Confessions & Reciprocated Captivations

You must have listened to that voicemail at least twenty times. You hated hearing the pain in his voice, how tortured and lonely he sounded. You had seen his name flash across the screen as he'd called you but you weren't ready to face him yet.

The two of you longing for each other and he'd finally reached out to you. It tore a brand new gaping hole in your chest that you were desperate to patch up.

However, you were at work and could hardly handle it there. The workday ahead of you was quiet at least, so you stayed pent up in your office and replied to emails where you could feign cheerfulness and pretend you weren't falling apart.

You knew you needed to respond to him, that your silence was shredding him apart because he at least needed to know where you stood.

Where did you stand? You missed him so much. He'd hurt you so bad but you knew that it wasn't his intention. He was so fucking kind and giving, and how he acted was not like him at all. The fact that he had the potential to lash out like that is what scared you.

You'd been through breakups before, felt the pain of losing someone you thought was meant for you. It sucked. It was so horrible but this... this was almost too unbearable to endure. The bond you two had was unlike anything either of you had experienced before and you were mourning what felt like was gone.

You couldn't focus, couldn't think about anything but him. You felt for him, for what he was going through and how he needed you and you needed him.

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was nearing three in the afternoon, you picked up your phone and listened to the voicemail again.

"...I'm so ashamed and devastated..."

"...I need to hold you and talk to you..."

"...Prove to you that I won't ever act that way again..."

You held back more tears as it played out and refreshed the pain in your heart. Your poor broken Harry, so terrified that he'd lost you. He always had been but he was scared he really had and he was the one to blame.

With a shaky sigh, you pulled up his text field and clicked the text box.

What you didn't know was that Harry had been attached to his phone all day after leaving that voicemail. When he'd seen those three little dots appear on the text field, his heart ignited in hope and his body ached for you. He wanted to hold you again and kiss you and treasure you.

To give you extra love because he had a lot to make up for.

You sent a simple message, not giving anything away because you weren't about to express anything over text but didn't want him to be concerned.

I'm off at 6. I can come to you after.

His reply was immediate and he wasn't even slightly ashamed.

Please.

The rest of your shift dragged, but when six o'clock came around. you felt wave after wave of nausea wash over you at the thought of seeing him. You hoped it could be a productive conversation and not feel like you were shouting into the wind. That would only result in an upsetting outcome.

But Harry had always been incredibly understanding and you clung to that fact as you drove to his house. You parked outside his house on the street, which was unusual for you and keyed in the code to enter the smaller side gate.

You took a deep breath when the light on the porch flickered on as you approached it and you mentally prepared yourself for the night ahead. You raised a trembling fist and knocked on the ripened wood of his front door.