Redemption [h.s]

thirty-one

I kept walking down, but I stopped before reaching the end of the staircase. It took me just a few seconds to decide what to do next. I turned around and walked up to my floor again. I stood in front of his door, hesitating a little before knocking on it.

On the other side, I heard nothing but silence. I knocked again, listening carefully. I stepped away a little as I heard the faint sound of steps coming towards the door.

The door swung open, and here he stood, sizing me up, not saying a word.

We just stared at each other.

After a few seconds he tried to close the door on my face, but I stopped it with my hand and slid into the house, shutting the door behind me and leaning on it.

He backed up slowly until his back hit the opposite wall.

"This is ridiculous" I said.

He didn't reply, he just kept staring at me attentively, as if he was scared of confrontation.

"I'm sorry for pushing you. I know it's a sensitive subject, I shouldn't have" I continued, taking advantage of the silence.

He looked down.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked him, seeing that he seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

"I don't understand" he admitted.

"What don't you understand?" I got closer to him, stepping away from the door.

He noticed, and instinctively pressed himself against the wall a little more. "Why are you still here?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

He looked up, and his leaf green eyes met mine.

"I'm here, and I'm not planning to go away. But we need to talk about that, you know that, don't you?"

He nodded slightly. "But I don't think I can. I haven't for a long time."

"When did you last talk about it?" I asked him softly.

"A week after it happened, to the police."

I didn't reply right away and I just looked at him. Feeling uncomfortable under my gaze, he was staring at the closed door behind me.

"It was over seven years ago." I realised.

He blinked fast. "There's a reason I don't talk about it" he mumbled.

"I'm sorry" I said quietly, taking his hand. To my surprise, he didn't flinch back.

He slid down the wall, taking me down with him. I sat next to him, still holding his hand. He brought his knees to his chest, staring into nothing.

"She was my best friend" he said after a while.

I looked at him and grazed my thumb over his knuckles, encouraging him to continue.

"Her name was Alice." He wrapped his other arm around his legs. "I met Louis when I was four and he was six. We got along well and quickly, before I knew it I was able to call him my best friend. Alice was really young, so we rarely played with her. But then, as we grew up, the two years of difference between me and her, and the four between Louis and her, started to mean less and less, and we were always together. We all went to the same school, even though on different years, and we were almost always together." He sighed. "I don't think I can do this" he said, his voice breaking.

"You can" I said and put his hand, that I was still holding, on my lap, playing a little with his long fingers.

"We had gone to a party" he said after a while. "All the three of us together. Louis was set to drive us home, since we had gone there with his car." He intertwined his fingers with mine. "It was almost midnight. Alice wanted to go home. We were set to go home at that time, in fact. I searched for Louis everywhere. I found him with a girl I had never seen before, kissing against the wall of the second floor of that house. He gave me the car keys, telling me to go home, and that he wouldn't have come with us." He stopped.

"And then?" I dared to ask, starting to draw circles on the back of his hand with my other hand.

He looked at me. "I was a bit tipsy, I didn't see the other car" he said in a broken whisper, "until it was too late."

"Harry..." I started to say, but I stopped soon after.

"I was the only survivor" he murmured. "I got out of the hospital a month later. I tried to tell Louis I was sorry, but his family didn't let me in the house." He looked down. "He hated me... he still does." He wiped his glossy eyes on the hem of his shirt. "It's my fault if Alice died."

"Harry, it's not your fault" I said, but he didn't listen to me.

"My dad left soon after. He said he couldn't live under the same roof of a murderer. My mom was always silent, but I knew she agreed." He gave me a little shrug, leaning his head against the cold wall. "I heard them talking about it many times. I moved out as soon as I turned 18. She said she didn't want to see me ever again." He sighed. "I haven't talked to her since."

I let go of his hand and wrapped my arms around him. After a second in which he didn't move, he put his head on my shoulder. I felt his shoulders shake slightly and, realising that he'd started crying, I hugged him tighter, not wanting to let go of him while he was feeling down.

"I won't let you go" I whispered into his ear, caressing his back slowly. I waited until he started to calm down, touching the back of one of his hands, that was subconsciously grabbing my shirt.

He let go of my shirt and I took his hand into mine, intertwining our fingers again.

"Come on" I said softly, making him understand that I wanted to stand up, and he stood up with me.

We walked to his kitchen and I sat him down on a chair.

He looked at me, seeming lost. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm making tea" I replied quietly, afraid to speak too loudly in such a sensitive moment. I turned around to look at him, and saw the corners of his lips imperceptibly turn up.

After a while, I put a steaming mug on the table in front of him, and sat down next to him. "Be careful, it's hot" I told him.

"Thank you" he murmured, "And I'm sorry for having been an asshole lately."

A small laugh escaped my lips. "It's okay, I know you didn't really mean to."

"Still, it's not how a boyfriend should act" he replied sipping the hot tea, warming his hands up on the cup.

I shrugged. "I'm afraid we're anything but conventional."

He chuckled. "Yeah, you're probably right."

I took my phone out of my pocket and texted Liam, telling him that I would've not gone at his that night, because something else had come up.

"So, what would you like to do tonight?" I asked Harry when he finished drinking.

He shrugged. "I don't know, watch a movie, or something? I guess."

I gave him a little nod to show him I agreed with his decision, and we walked into the living room, sitting on the couch. As he turned on the television, I looked up, and I was surprised to find out that the two small bottles were on the shelf above the TV again.