(we're a) Fine Line {HS}

XLVII - Entity

"You'll feel better if you eat something..." I tell Harry, me with a concerned face and him with a disgusted one as he remains to look at the plate of mixed eggs I just made for us in the middle of that night. He rests his arms on both sides of it, on the table, and has been looking at it for so long that I'm almost finishing mine. And it's not for its aspect; it tastes particularly good this time I made it, and I'd be happy if he could say the same.

With hesitation and calm, he picks the fork up, turning it around on his fingers a couple of times before sticking it on a tiny piece of the eggs. He points the fork to his face and evaluates the food more precisely as if it hasn't been enough already, never changing his expression. Then he eventually decides to give it a try.

A metal sound is heard when the fork interacts with his teeth, and Harry quickly puts it down again, chewing on the food it left inside his mouth. I put more on mine too, watching this event very attentively as he leans himself back and closes his eyes.

As I was expecting him to swallow and eat at least one more peice of it, instead he twists and leads his hand on a soft fist to his mouth as he's about to vomit. But he manages not to do so and still swallow the food to then turn sideways on the chair and rests his elbows on his knees, rubbing his forehead with one if his hands.

I'm not sure how, but his situation seems to be affecting his appetite. As well as his sleep; we tried to for almost two hours, but he gave up and I couldn't sleep worrying about him and if he needed something. So I took us downstairs to the kitchen and made a little something because, after thinking about it, it's a bit difficult for him not to be hungry since the last time we ate was in Las Vegas before we checked out of the hotel. But I guess I remain to simply at least have tried.

I consider myself finished eating and make my way to sit at the chair Harry's turned towards to, more instinctively than anything else.

"I can't... It comes back on my mind and I just--" He interrupts himself slowly and I immediately reach for him, hearing the overwhelmed tone of his low voice. I place my hands on his head and rub his hair softly, allowing him to rest his head on my shoulder and me resting my cheek against his head too, bringing him closer and trying to prevent his breathing from getting any more heavier.

"Then what can I do for you, Sunset?" I ask him almost in a whisper, frowning to myself at how useless I feel in this moment. I could just remain to caress and give him affect and love. Show him I'm here. But would that be enough? Wouldn't he feel sick of it at some point, claiming that's not what he needs? But I feel like not even he knows what he needs himself.

He raises his head, in a way to rest his forehead against mine instead. I only give him a sweet peck on the corner of his lips first, then watch as his eyes remain looking down close to mine. He takes a deep breath, and was just starting to say something when, out of nowhere, the bell rings.

We both hold our breaths and I instinctively glance at the door of the kitchen as if it would tell me who's at the front one, at this time of the night - it being fans faintly crossing my mind. Then we glance at each other and as I detach from him and stand up, Harry immediately grabs my wrist firmly, "Don't go."

My heart melts at how helplessly his voice stretches of looking up at me with expectation. Something in his red, tired eyes suddenly tells me to pretend there's nothing else in the world besides me and him in this house. Pretend either no one is at the door, or we're not at home.

And maybe a part of my brain was already sending some information to my knees to bend and do as Harry intends. Never to let anyone interact with us again, willing to make complete antisocialness my new lifestyle, if that's what he wants us to do. However, another part hears the way the bell rings a second time and makes me see how irrational I'm being and it would be to do so, thankfully or not.