Holmes Chapel, England is not the kind of place that changes much. Nestled in the heart of the north country, it's green and lush, two lane roads winding this way and that around mammoth cypress trees and mossy rocks. It's a blink and you miss it kind of place, a few stop signs, a gas station, a bakery, and a general store, a place where recreation is hunting and fishing and making babies. It's slow and languid like any small British town — people wave when they pass on the highway and everyone knows everybody's business, whether you're late for church or drying out in county jail.
Harry has never given much thought to the integral part his hometown played in his upbringing, but today, he's feeling a little nostalgic as he winds the Range Rover through the forest, retracing all the old roads that his internal map has never lost. He has nowhere to be and no destination in mind, just a full tank of gas, a troubled heart, and a mind that won't quit, sleep as far away as ever.
He'd wanted to lay down after breakfast, finally feeling like maybe he could sleep — wouldn't even let his mother change the sheets, just climbed the stairs to his old room, pulled the comforter back and let himself fall face first into the blankets. One breath, and he was wide awake again, the clean simple scent of Olivia's skin surrounding him, and he'd forgotten she'd slept here at Christmas. God, that was so long ago, but her smell lingered, as trapped in the fabric of his sheets as it is in the fabric of his mind.
His mother had protested when he'd come back down wearing clean clothes, but still feeling rusty and worn. She'd fussed and demanded he march right back up those stairs, but after one tired, broken look from him, she'd let him go. He's not sure what he's looking for or where he's going, he just knows that he wants to keep moving. If he keeps moving maybe he can outrun everything that's been chasing him over the past few months - Olivia, Eleanor, his job, the wedding, the press – and fatigue will finally set in.
Life is chasing him while he chases sleep.
You keep running, it's what you're good at.
He knows it's no solution, knows that nothing will be solved if he keeps running but —
His train of thought cuts off as his phone rings, and he checks the front to find Eleanor's name staring back at him. He hits ignore for the third time in the past hour, wishing there was a button in his brain for that sort of thing, guilt nipping at him. He'd left her a note before he'd gone —
E,
Went home for a few days.
Be back soon.
Love,
H —
He knows she must be beyond pissed. It really was a shitty thing for him to do, just up and leave in the middle of the night. He hadn't even kissed her goodbye.
He sighs heavily, reaching up to rub his burning eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose hard. He wonders if this is what going crazy feels like, this constant anxiety and frantic need to not stay in one place — to move, to run.
He pulls into the next parking lot, stepping out of the car and looking around. It's so quiet here, the trees tall as skyscrapers, and as he looks around, there's not a soul in sight, the road empty, his the only car in the lot. He pockets his keys, strolling towards the edge of the asphalt and stepping down onto springy grass, surveying the sign denoting the beginning of Goostrey Loop, eight miles of nice ups and downs with good views of the neighboring rivers.
Eight miles is nothing to him now. Eleanor had him running ten every other day in preparation for the wedding, and it's only ten o'clock. He could be done in an hour and a half easily, maybe two if the up parts of the ups and downs are particularly brutal.
He's not exactly dressed for this sort of thing, he thinks, bending his leg so he can grab his foot, and he feels the muscles pull, loosening a little, but not much. He repeats the action with the other before walking back to the car, opening the passenger side door and tugging the polo over his head, his undershirt blinding white in the morning sun. He slips the knot from the loops of his basketball shorts, pulling it tight before shutting the car and clicking the lock, the quiet beep beep echoing through the empty forest, birds chirping back at him. He slips the keys into his pocket, taking long strides back over to the beginning of the trail, stretching a little more, but he's anxious to get going. He needs to move.
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Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}
Fanfiction"She's compromising her own personal beliefs and morals, putting her heart on the line just because he asked her to. She feels slightly sick at her stomach when she thinks about it, so she takes a page from his book and tries not to. But trying not...
