mutuality | wroetoshaw

twenty two

Once again, another disclaimer - I do not condone JJ's behaviour in the recent sidemen video. Racism is NEVER okay and no one should be defending him.

Sorry for the long wait on this chapter - placement has absolutely finished me but I just have one last week! Yay!

"You've barely said a word since the yacht. What's up?" Harry asks, looming over my seat on our private plane back to the UK. It's true, I have been especially careful to keep quiet since the yacht, thinking a lot of things through my head, trying to gain some clarity over my very confusing feelings.

"I'm fine," I tell him, not very convincingly, and that's even my opinion. No doubt he can sense the doubt in my voice too, but if he does, he makes no show of it.

"If you're sure. I'm here if you need someone to talk to," he continues to say, sitting in the chair just across from me, still looking at me with his sympathetic eyes.

"I know," I tell him softly, and I break the eye contact, turning away and looking out of the window, met with endless clouds that block any kind of view that may lay beneath us.

The yacht had been an experience, for sure. The close call with Harry almost overhearing mine and Kirsty's conversation had been too close for my liking, and it was something I didn't have the guts to continue thinking about, so I'd pushed it to the back of my mind, the subject of my thoughts to think about at a later time.

It was time to focus on the present and the future, not the past, but seeing Harry was making that so difficult, so yes, I had sort of been giving him the silent treatment, albeit not purposefully, it had just kind of happened, and I felt guilty knowing that he'd started to realise.

This was what I was afraid of - jeopardising our friendship, for whatever - this stupid, nagging feeling was. Whether Kirsty was right, or if she wasn't, it was something I dreaded to think about, hence why I was pushing the feelings down. My friendship with Harry was too important to risk - for whatever reason, and I was sure that Kirsty would understand.

"You look like shit," she spoke, bringing me out of my thoughts, where I focused onto the figure who was standing in front of me, recognising it to be Kirsty.

"Feel like it," I grumble, and I was quite tired, still semi recovering from yesterday.

"Drink some water. It'll help," she says, throwing me a plastic bottle of water, which lands on my lap with a thud. She leans back into the seat which is opposite me, crossing one leg over the other and leaning forwards.

She motions to her left, which is where Harry sits. Naturally, I follow her motion, where I notice that Harry is already asleep, and I really don't blame him. He's also had an eventful twenty four hours, and didn't have as much sleep as I'd had.

"Talk to him?" She asks quietly, and everything I'd told myself I wouldn't think about bubbles to the surface, and I have to physically refrain from swearing at Kirsty for the inconvenience.

I shake my head, still a little uncomfortable having this conversation with him being right there, not only scared about him overhearing, but feeling guilty for talking about him when he is right there, looking so vulnerable.

"Why not?" She asks, but she's not cross, she just sounds sympathetic, which in a way, is so much worse.

"There's nothing there to say," is the answer I give her, and we both know I'm lying, but she doesn't call me out for it.

"When you're ready, you'll find the words. Until then, take care of yourself," she tells me, and I know the conversation is over.

I find my gaze drifting over to Harry, who is sleeping peacefully. The instinct to grab a blanket to put over him to make him more comfortable is almost primal, and before I know it I find myself getting out of my seat, and going to the sofa area where I grab a blanket, and delicately put it over his body, making sure it's firm before feeling satisfied and sitting back down.