After the End: Book 4

23. To Not Be Afraid

Naomi's POV

Daisy startled me when she walked out onto the balcony. I hadn't expected to see her. She'd been avoiding me still, and I was giving her space. She seemed to be appreciating that. She was too kind to be mean, so I hadn't to willingly step back.

"Did he wake up?" I asked immediately. Oliver was asleep, but I didn't expect him stay  that way. The longer he went without seeing Louis, the more tense he became. I thought Louis would have been coming back for the night, especially after he missed my goodnight call, but I hadn't heard anything and it was well after dark now.

"No." Daisy held up my own phone at me and I realized she'd answered a call. Phoebe's number flashed on the screen.

For a moment I was panicked. I was the person Phoebe was supposed to call if something went wrong. I was her emergency adult, for all intents and purposes. A call from her could mean an actual issue. I reached for the phone, but Daisy held it out of reach for a moment. Her kind childish eyes hardened into something unfamiliar and defensive.

"You better be kind to him," she warned. Then she dropped the phone into my hand and turned away.

I put it to my ear immediately. There was a moment of silence before I hesitantly said, "Hello?"

"Nay, Love?" Harry's voice came through shockingly light an humorous. "You bought horrible tomato soup. I tried to help it, but it still sucked. If I can't make it better, then nobody can."

The feelings that flooded me were immediate. I was caught off guard and panicked, but then it melted to a softness. There was confusion, worry and affection. Then hurt. I was a little too fixated on the hurt.

"I was going fast," I defended myself a bit numbly. "I was trying to get the shopping done before you woke up."

"Harry, you agreed not to bully her."

Phoebe's vice sounded muffled and far away. She must have been standing close by, observing the exchange.

"You're right," Harry conceded back to her. The humor had left his voice. He sounded quite a bit like a corralled child, obeying his keeper. "I couldn't help it, I'm sorry."

"What's happening?" I asked a bit timidly. "Did you guys need something?"

"We didn't need anything," Harry replied with the same level of even calm on his voice. There was a little bit of hesitation in his tone. I tried to guess whether he was nervous. It was impossible to tell. "I just wanted to... you know, talk."

"You wanted to talk?" I clarified. Now I was doubly confused.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I haven't seen you since..."

He trailed off and I could hear him take a deep breath. I hadn't seen him awake since the day he'd come through the house frazzled and explosive. It had been more than a week since it had happened but it still felt so fresh. He'd yelled obscenities at Becca. He'd stormed off looking completely deranged and then nobody had seen him until he was on live television calling out my name and singing Two Ghosts spitefully. Everything since the last time I'd seen him had been part of his horrific spiral.

"I saw you sleeping on Monday," I informed him. I tried for something light. I had no idea why he was calling, but it was unlike him to be timid in approaching things. It was obvious he was nervous. I hadn't decided what I wanted to do with that yet. "How is your face?"

"It doesn't hurt as bad anymore," he replied lightly. "I looked— look like shit, right?"

"Still purple?" I questioned.