This Was Home [h.s.]

| 28. PHOBIA |

Harry's POV

  "Well, I like to be around you too, Harry."

I never prided myself on being the most likeable person in the world, but I did my best to at least be honest. Which was probably why I never got the title of likeable. Not that I gave a shit regardless anyway.

But, due to this need to be honest, it would be stretching the truth if I said those words from Brin weren't still faintly ringing in the back of my head as we continued walking side by side. It wasn't like we had said much else after that either, silence soon slipping between us in replacement. It wasn't awkward, it was just there. And if it wasn't for the fact I had nothing else to think about besides those few words she had just said, maybe I would have paid more attention to the fact we had both stopped talking.

I never even said I actually liked being around her when she said it either, but it wasn't like I was purposely trying to be an ass about it. Besides, sometimes being an ass saved me from a lot of shit. I wasn't about to dive into some deep conversation in the middle of this weird fucking prison community either. Or whatever this was. And especially not about feelings—and feelings that I wasn't even sure were there. Or even what they meant to begin with.

But, whatever.

"What do you think will happen tomorrow? Like with that meeting?" Brin huffed out in an exasperated breath. I fought a chuckle, knowing it was due to the amount of weight she was having to carry. If I had an extra hand, I would've gotten it for her, but I also knew how stubborn she was, too. I could already hear her confidently decline my offer in my head without me even having to ask.

"Probably some shit I don't like or give a shit about," I bluntly remarked.

I could feel her eyes roll without looking.

"Don't be like that, I'm serious," she huffed once again but this time not due to physical exertion.

I took in a long breath, venturing my eyes around us. I knew we were close. We had already taken the expected right that we were told when we left that Edmund building. It was a bunch of tiny apartment-like structures stacked on top of each other, each with their own respective windows. They almost looked like old storage containers that had been remade into what it was now. They didn't look the sturdiest of buildings either, but I guessed they were built well enough to withstand as long as they had.

So who was I to judge?

"Guess we'll find out," I said before I stopped walking. The bags dropped from my hands as I dug around in my pocket for the temporary badges we were given.

"What?" Brin asked with a perplexed look as I continued my search in my pants pocket. It didn't take her but a split second to jump on the opportunity to put her bags down, too.

"The Bergamot," I unintentionally whispered aloud as I read the cards to myself.

"Huh?" Brin's voice raised an octave with her hands now sat against her hips. "Isn't that a flower? What about them?"