seraphic [h.s]

chapter fifty one.

A light on would be nice, though that would definitely break my cover. Totally. That would totally break my cover. Because then he'd see the slither of light on the outer edges of my closed curtains.

I was in a good position, prime position really.

It wasn't how I'd meant to spend the last couple of nights— peeping out the window like a complete weirdo. But I was doing what I had to do. Or maybe not had to do, but I was doing what would benefit me in the long run. So it was something that I should do.

It was three thirty in the morning. Everything was engulfed in shadow, Dee was sleeping peacefully, and I was supposed to be asleep by now but it just hadn't come. So, like the night before, I'd set myself up near my bedroom window that overlooked the apartment complex. The window was beside the front door, which meant when— if— Harry was actually going to slip me another envelope, I would be ready.

After lots of thinking— or avoidance of— I'd very recently come to the conclusion that we needed to talk. Harry and I. I needed to sit down with him, he needed to sit down with me, and we needed to discuss where we were at. Meaning the letter. I rolled my eyes— the letter— two words that made me feel uneasy. But that's what I figured. We needed to have a civil conversation about things, everything, and then I would see how I felt.

Because currently I still felt nothing.

I was almost positive that feeling this blandly about a situation meant I was probably emotionally coasting through it. So that was why I needed to face this head on. I'd made a decision, finally, and it was that I needed to talk to him. I wasn't twenty anymore, obviously, I couldn't run away from situations forever. If this talk with him would bring me the peace I thought it might, then I would have to do it.

Though my feelings regarding Harry? Neutral. Nothing. When he crossed my mind it felt like water was simmering through my body, but that was it. I couldn't feel its temperature, I couldn't actually feel it bubbling away either, it just made me think 'well, there it goes again'. Maybe I was emotionally coasting with Harry too. Maybe. I wasn't too stressed about getting a definitive answer about that though. Or I was. I was just telling myself I wasn't.

My setup consisted of this— a chair I'd dragged in from the kitchen, a water bottle on the table that always sat against the wall, two empty coffee mugs on that same table, the first envelope he'd given me, and a pillow behind my back. My feet were tucked under my butt, chin resting on my knees as I peeled back an inch of the curtain for the millionth time tonight. Or this morning. Seeing as I had yet to sleep.

He could quite literally not come. And I would be sitting here like an idiot for nothing. If that were the case, I'd be sleeping all of tomorrow. Though something in me just had this feeling, some kind of way where I knew he would be here. He wasn't expecting me, of course, so his movements would be slow, calculated as to not be seen. And that was when I would strike.

I hadn't seen Dee properly enough to tell her all that the letter had entailed, she'd been seriously busy between running Hades Ink and popping into the record shop too. And maybe, just maybe, I wasn't opposed to not seeing her because I wasn't sure where the fuck my head was at. The letter. That god damn fucking letter would be the end of me.

I thought about it, and when I thought about it, I would shake my head and bid for it to flee. I couldn't believe I was in this position again with him, with Harry, that I was even letting his words get to me in the slightest. He was right, his words sounded nice, as they always did. But they wouldn't be enough, not even close.

Which then posed the question of what would be enough? And that's where I shut down. I didn't want to think about that. Nor did I want to have to entertain the question of, if something were to be enough, what role would he take up in my life?