Luna and the Moon [H.S]

49: forgiveness.

Please read the note at the end *

The scolding hot water felt so good against my skin. It was like all of the unnecessary stress gathered from today was being burned away by the steaming water, and I couldn't be more thankful. Today started off quite well, and suddenly it was like we lost control of the brakes and went rolling down a hill to a very brutal death. I mean we survived, I didn't think we would, but we did.

The soap from my body and my hair was already drained away, I just couldn't force my body to leave the warmth of the shower. Not because I would have to hurriedly change into clothes to avoid the chilly air, but because I didn't want to face whatever is going on with Harry. It isn't like I don't care, it's because I don't want to make Harry do something he clearly doesn't want to do. But I will not stand by and let this one opportunity to mend his relationship with his father slip away from him. Considering my own father is dead and I will never get a chance to see him again, I just want Harry to try.

I exited the shower after a couple minutes of empty thoughts and heavy plops of water, that pattered against the glass door that had steamed up. I was instantly greeted by chilly air that made me shiver, the unpleasant air was enough motivation for me to hurriedly dry my body with a thick fluffy blue towel and get my joggers on. I was now in loose grey joggers and a sports bra, I didn't expect it to still be quite chilly so I didn't grab one of Harry's jumpers, but I know where one of his is.

I left the bathroom, the silence lingering in my apartment made me curious, but the coolness in the air that nipped at my bare skin was pushing me to get a jumper first. I reached my bedroom and found one of Harry's jumpers in my wardrobe, one from many months ago that I kept. Yes, I did cuddle the jumper that smelt just like him when we were apart...

I walked down the hallway and into the living room and kitchen area where I saw Harry. He was laying on his back on the couch, his phone on his chest and his hands locked together over his stomach. His empty emerald eyes were open and staring at the ceiling, and his thick black eyelashes were damp and sticking to one another — a sign he had been crying.

"Harry?" I said quietly, afraid of frightening him. He didn't flinch nor move.

"Yeah?" He whispered, hoarsely.

"Everything okay?"

"Mhm," he mumbled, his lips parting only for his pink tongue to swipe over his drying lips. "My dad's coming over in an hour."

"Oh!" I gasped, hurriedly making my way towards the couch where I lifted up his legs to sit underneath them. He placed his legs back over my thighs and let my hands gently run up and down from his ankle to his knee. "Is he coming here?"

"Yes," he answered. "I should have asked you, but I just don't want to meet with him on my own."

"That's okay, I understand. Maybe I can give you two some space and if you need me you can just call for me?"

"No!" He sat himself up quickly. His green eyes were dark, slightly red from his cry, but still dark and powerful. His legs were bent and my legs rested underneath them, his right shoulder against my left one. "I need you beside me Luna, this was your idea —"

"I never made you do this, I gave you the chance you're the one who decided to do this. Clearly you miss your father."

"I did it for you," he shrugged. I can see right through him, he's like a ghost. He's a liar, and a damn right bad one.

"You're lying."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!" He said with a pout.