The Book Of Anna & English

29 - Glitter In The Air

Oi, sorry about that last chapter. I'll just. Hi Little ducks. 

Triggers:

- None

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Covering you with my jacket on the beach.

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Anna

Have you ever looked fear in the face and said I just don't care?

I wake up in a cold sweat, the dreams sitting front and center as gravity tries to shift me back into the place where I float on my mistakes.

When I let Harry walk away, I was sure the clouds would turn gray, so confident in the fact that I stood outside waiting for the rain to fall, but it didn't. Instead, I sat on the sidewalk with my knees drawn up to keep my heart from falling out of my ribcage. It was unsuccessful.

I got scared, I made a mistake, a rash decision based on unkept emotions, one I'm paying for dearly because I should have told him. I shouldn't have reverted to my old ways. He deserves to know that I get nervous when he listens to what I have to say. I should have told him that his words cling to me. That he swallows me without chewing.

He sings songs just for me, and when he does, I sing along because, in my dreams, I call his name. He steals my breath and my footing. He's an angel and a thief.

A voice drawing from outside makes me realize I didn't just wake up from a nap, something woke me up, and the black sky outside, along with a silhouette, confirms it. My feet move softly, my ear perched against the window. The sound is muffled, like hearing underwater.

"So I gave her some space, but now I can't anymore, and I'm sitting here instead of going through that window because I'm scared." His smooth voice draws out, his chin perched on his forearm where they're folded on his drawn-up knees. "No, you don't understand; what if I push too hard and she leaves for good?" It hurts hearing him speak out loud to no one, the pang of guilt ever-present.

I put my hand against the glass, ready to open the window until I hear his following words. "You know what, Keeper, Anna was right; you really are a good listener." I yank at the handle, a fresh breeze blowing through me, but I freeze because there he is.

The boy who talks to my plants like he believes me.

The boy who writes songs about me

My English boy.

He doesn't acknowledge it; instead, he reaches towards the succulent and throws a white substance by its roots. He's feeding Keeper Epson salts because he cared enough to google what would make him happy. "It's not always easy, you know, finding something so powerful at such a young age. It's daunting, to say the least, but I know we'll be alright in the long run."

The gasp that escapes me makes Harry turn around, a surprised look on his face as he notices me for the first time, but instead of the anger-ridden expression I was expecting, I see only a smile, brighter than the Eiffel tower at night.

There's a moment of silence, where everything freezes and our eyes lock; all the emotions hang like the haven between us, making me want to physically reach out to snatch it up. "Come here, Anna Rose." Harry gestures with his open palm, and within seconds, I'm in his arms, folding myself around him, trying to crawl under his skin, apologies falling from my mouth, my nose pushed into his neck.

"I forgive you, Anna Rose; everything is fine." He soothes, his palm spreading over the back of my head as he cradles me in his arms. I didn't have to hurt him like this because of my own insecurities. I didn't need to cause him trouble, but it's hard like he said. I've been through this enough to believe that you should leave people before they get the chance to leave you.