the journal - h.s.

50

[amber's pov]

I hadn't even realized how much I needed to hear that. To have someone tell me I had made it, that I had been overcoming all of it and made it out alive. I watched how Harry took a deep breath, as if doing it for me. As if he knew exactly how it felt, then he pushed his hair back and started twisting the ring around again, as his words suddenly came floating from him.

Still in that calm steady tone; "if you ever need someone to... you know talk or like whatever. Yeah just know that I'm all ears. Whenever, wherever yeah. Just so you know. Even if it's just that you want to talk with someone about how you burnt your coffee which totally sucked one morning or like if you want to discuss the meaning behind Plato's philosophy or well if you feel like swearing over the cold weather and you need someone to agree with you! Just. Yeah." He sent me a little smile over the ramblings of his, which was very unlike him. Usually he was more collected and direct in his talking and I realized he was nervous about telling me this.

I grinned at the realization as I now saw the clear signs of that puzzling nervosity. I had never seen him real nervous before like that, the way his eyes kept escaping mine to his hands and he moved in his seat constantly.

"Yeah. Ehm so your next question?" His jade green eyes pierced into mine eager to change the topic, but still curious as to what that past topic contained of secrets. I could read it in his beautiful eyes. He just didn't want to pressure me. For that I was beyond grateful.

"What makes you nervous?" I fired back at him practically stating the words as I thought of them for the first time. I watched the reaction they withdrew - him smiling widely and playfully. He moved in the seat again unable to sit in the same position for too long it seemed. Instead he put his arm on the backrest of the sofa and tilted his head into resting in the palm of his big tanned hand.

"It used to be the future actually, but not any longer really. I guess maybe well not much actually? The only thing is I don't... I don't want to be like ...," his eyes escaped mine to his ring again, as he continued in a mumble, "I don't want to be like my father."

I waited for him to continue, as we both watched how the light reflecting in his silver ring was beyond stunning. After a while I was just about to say something, as he seemed completely lost in thoughts I could never get to know - but his lips parted first; "he was - and still is - kind of good at manipulating people. Like for instance he could probably easily pressure you into telling about whatever you don't feel like sharing. He just got ... like he got the words in his power. He could always get me to admit things - or like figure them out himself just by asking some provoking questions, which would get me all worked up you know?"

He seemed breathless as the stream of wild words had suddenly started floating from him in a powerful wave. His eyes were burning with certainty, as he looked directly at me with his features carved in stone and his chest moving up and down.

"I don't want to be like that. I don't want to... force others into doing something I merely want them to - by making them believe it's what they wish. I'm not doing that right? That's just. That's just wrong."

I watched as he took a deep breath and shook his head, so his curls fell into his face. He swept them away and suddenly seemed restless as he looked back at me and stated with a confused gaze over what he just had bluntly told me, "do you want a cup of tea or something?"

I couldn't honestly say I had expected that after finally having him opening up a little to me - just cutting it off like that just as quickly. But maybe it wasn't the right time to tell everything. That would probably take more than 20 minutes. Without saying much I rose from the sofa with his bewildered eyes resting on me, following my actions, as I took a step and stood before him. He looked up at me through his dark eyelashes and I could see how his breathing was still heavy - telling me how much this issue with his father was still troubling him.