Wish [Harry] On Hold

04 | W e e k e n d

Dedicated to inthepants for being my number one bitchatcho, ily x

THE DAY ENDED QUICKER THAN usual and I couldn't have been happier about it. Friday was the day that everyone at the ERHA seemed to hate the most as it apparently dragged on for the longest, almost taunting us with the two day freedom that was the weekend. However, it flew by that day and before I knew it, I'd tidied my work space, pulled on my coat and was out the door on the exact hour of five.

I said my goodbyes to everyone from repairs as I turned and made my way down the street, headed home with an unexplainable sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Why did I feel so glum? It wasn't as if the day had been any more atrocious than usual and Fiona hadn't made me complete more than three of her appointed tasks...

Harry's going to propose to Sally tomorrow night, I remembered all of a sudden and I rolled my eyes. That's what it was. A part of me hoped she would say no but to even think such a thing was unfair to Sally and unfair to Harry. They were happy together and that was all that mattered.

I turned the corner, pulling out my keys as I did, jamming them into the keyhole before allowing myself into the building. As I climbed the stairs to my flat, I tried to think happy thoughts; kittens, rainbows, a cuppa or even Harry marrying me instead of Sally. Somehow, those thoughts only made me feel worse and I threw my door open in frustration.

Why did I have to like Harry so much? It wasn't as if I knew him all too well and we'd only known each other for three months. Three months where the only interactions that had occurred between us was a brief 'hello' as he passed by to go for lunch ... with the exception of the alcohol incident, the chat in the resources room and the coffee. That was it and somehow I had still managed to fall for his charm and witty ways. I couldn't recall a time where I'd felt quite that way about anyone, not even in high school.

It was official: I was an obsessed idiot.

I locked the door behind me before I wandered through to the living room and fell face-first into the sofa. I groaned. Usually when I returned home from work, I'd undress into some casual clothes and head straight to my art work but that night, I just didn't feel up to it, at least not right away.

My inspiration was currently getting ready to propose to his gorgeous, smart, sexy girlfriend. Oh, the jealously was eating me up inside and I wished terribly that it would leave me alone. I didn't need or have any right to feel jealous. He was never mine to begin with, in any way, shape or form.

Deep down, I knew I was happy for them. I wanted both Harry and Sally to be happy together and to live a long, wonderful life that would conclude with them old and wrinkled, embracing each other until the end. They would have children, grand-children and maybe even a couple cats. I knew it was wrong to be jealous and spiteful towards a cat.

I made my way through to my bedroom and quickly changed into my nightie, flipping my hair over to scoop it up into a messy knot at the top of my head. I didn't need to look perfect to do art. Art wasn't ever perfect so why should the artist have to be? That had been one of the greatest things I'd been told throughout my life. In school, college, from my teachers I'd been told to express myself. Being perfect was impossible – no one in the world was and art was simply a piece of you put onto paper.