antidote | h.s.

25 - let the sun in

ashton mackenzie

I don't know what to feel right now. 

It's Monday night. Harry's coming over in five minutes. I want to throw up. 

Not in a bad way, I promise. I feel like the zoo in my gut is going to give up on the rave it's been having, and all of the animals will decide to go home. But 'home' is my toilet bowl, and the commute there is my esophagus. 

He was honest when he said he wanted to talk when I was ready, and I ended up ignoring his texts all of Saturday and Sunday. I answered last night when I was ready. It wasn't that I was still angry over the argument because I wasn't ever actually angry at him, but I was just overwhelmed, and the thought of reliving it when I talked to him was just too much for my Saturday brain to handle. 

But I felt ready last night. I sent a thank you for his apology, and he immediately asked when he could see me. We worked it out, and now he'll be here any minute.

I don't think I've fully recovered from my little freakout, but I also don't think I ever do. They always take a little piece of me, no matter how big or small, and it takes me forever to build that part of me back up again.

I also have a feeling, with the way I curved my actual feelings on Saturday, it's going to come back to bite me in the ass sooner than later and bigger than before. I've never benefited from holding in my emotions. 

I don't know if I'm going to open up to Harry about why I flipped out with the sister stuff yet, but I think I want to. I also know, though, that thinking and knowing are two completely different things, and I shouldn't let them fuse, especially in moments like this. 

I've decided I'll play it by ear. I've realized I can plan out my interactions with Harry as much as I want, but they'll never go as planned. It's best just to let it happen. 

I can't believe I ever second-guessed my feelings for that man, too. I've never felt how he makes me feel before I met him, and that should have been enough proof for me. I think I was rethinking it all simply because I don't seem to trust myself. 

Well, that should be obvious enough. 

I don't know if anything has changed in that area of trust since Saturday morning, but something has changed. Maybe it's my trust in Harry. 

Just thinking about him makes my face heat up, and my fingers almost go fucking numb. 

Have I always been this easy? Damn. 

And the shrill of my buzzer cutting through the silence of my apartment definitely doesn't do anything to help my nerves. I jump up from my seat at the sound, waking up Nova, who was glued to my thigh in the process. 

My feet carry me to the metal box, and while I know exactly who it is, my finger goes for the speaker button instead, wanting some assurance before I let him up here, even though I don't know how this is going to bring me that. 

"Hello?" apprehension floods my voice. 

"Hi, pretty girl." 

My smile becomes almost painful, and I don't even realize it's there until it starts to ache. 

"Harry, You can't even see me."

"We've been through this. You're always beautiful, so I'm pretty confident in calling you that, EVEN when I can't see you."

I don't know how he manages to make me blush even when I can't see him. 

"Alright, you sap. Get up here," my finger lets go before he can respond, replacing it on the other button to unlock the door for him downstairs.