Verbatim [h.s]

Forty-Five

// Trigger Warning : Discussion and flashback of child grooming. Please do not read if this is a trigger or something you do not wish to read. \\

Home. A feeling only one place and one person ever gave to me. My mum. Only when she wrapped those arms around me, they didn't feel like home anymore. I felt the familiar warmth. The love. The joy. I felt a similar feeling to home, one that my mum, Audrey and Niall all give me. Only now do I realise there is one person to me, that truly feels like home, makes my raising heart calm or speed up in a better way. But I don't have that person right now, and it pains me that I cant just go back to him. I want to so badly.

"Tell me what's wrong?" I finally stopped crying into my mum's chest. I was truly exhausted now. I lost all train of thoughts on why I was even crying, thus getting mad at myself for crying and crying more. Now that was annoying. But I finally stopped it, and I'm not just a ball of mess in my mums lap as we both sit on the couch. I don't even know when we came over here and sat down, but then again I don't even know how long I've been a literal ball of tears and snot. So love that for me.

Lifting my head, it feels stiff and my eyes feel sore, and puffy. I reached up and rub them carefully then look to mum who is staring at me confused and filled with worry. God, I don't think I've even offered an explanation. And how do I explain this? She barely knows anything about Harry, I can't suddenly start blurting out shit about him. And I know I will definitely start saying shit I don't want to with how tired I am right now.

"Zuri, honey." She waits a moment, allowing me time to speak but I just take a deep breath, finally calming my raising heart. "Do you want to talk about it?" Do I? I do yeah. I need to. But I also don't and can't have this conversation right now.

"Tomorrow." I answer. "I just need some rest, and to clear my thoughts. But tomorrow." I nod my head at her, she mirrors my movements then climbs to her feet and grabs my hand. We both head upstairs and just before we part ways, me heading into my room on the right, hers on the left, I turn to her. "Please can I sleep with you? I don't really want to be alone right now." I know for a fact it will hurt more being in a cold bed alone than it would with my mum beside me. My foolish brain will probably convince myself that it is Harry but that's okay, it won't hurt as much as the lonely those cold sheets will give me.

"Of course honey, come on." She wraps an arm around me and we head to bed.

I already feel myself wanting, no needing Harry. I hate how dependent I am on him. Not just physically, but emotionally. He really does glue me together. We've spent so long together, we're hardly apart that now, the thought of spending more than a night not together hurts more than I ever thought. And I already feel myself coming around, forgiving him, although I know I still need to process things. I need to get my head around the fact that he and Max were best friends, and I never knew. I had talked about Max countless times, even in small conversations about when I was a child, and he said nothing. He had so many chances but no. I see why he didn't want to but I still don't get it. I deserved to know that sort of thing.

I don't like being lied to.

Waking up, the bed was empty but the sheets were warm. And for a second, only a brief second, I envisioned Harry maybe downstairs making a coffee. Or in the shower, and he'd walk in only a second later dripping with water, towel wrapped around his waist. The mere thought has me squirming in bed.

But no, I am alone.

I had sat up, to pere around to make sure I was still in my mum's bed. and yes I was, I could hear her downstairs pottering about. I throw myself back down on the bed, looking up at the plain white ceiling and huff out a breath of air. "Fuck." I smile shaking my head. I really am so fucking whipped by this guy. How can I go in such a 360 of emotions in only a handful of hours? I don't think I can actually wait that long to see him. I should hear him out again, properly this time, and say my peace there and then. Bury the hatchet. Move on.