Dealing With Absence » h. styles au

31ˁᵀ CHAPTER

                                                   31ˁᵀ CHAPTER 

  "There is a subtle magnetism in nature, which, if we unconsciously yield to it, will direct us aright"

“When the Waverley Line between Carlisle and Edinburgh opened in 1862, it was joined at Riccarton by the Border Counties railway from Hexham. Riccarton Junction was in an upland area and ended up turning into a railway village, with about 37 cottages – if I’m not mistaken – a mission hall and a school,” Harry’s babbling as he walks in front of Elisha, one sheet in hands with confusing handwriting he keeps glancing at.

There’s the slight vestige of sun hitting the ends of the grass, just barely there, nearly fading, and it’s not half enough to warm their bodies against the cold of the weather, closer to winter than anything. The dust is dancing in the air, dark clouds threatening to bring rain and ruin their small walk through the abandoned railway they still haven’t reached. 

Leesh hums behind him, trying to catch up to his endless legs; one step of his about thrice one of hers. 

“The railway facilities expanded into extensive sidings, 2 signal boxes and an island platform with a bay for the Hexham trains. As there was no road access, everything had to come and go by train. The Hawick Co-op even had a shop in the station,” he sounds passionate about it, fisting the hem of his sleeves tightly, curling into the warmth of the several layers of clothing and looking around eagerly, in search of whatever it is he uses as reference. 

“Harry, wait,” she reaches forward to grab his elbow, her voice causing the desired effect before her touch does. He halts almost instantly, turning around with careful eyes as if he’s not sure Elisha wants to be there at all. The worry there is explicit, and she simply smiles softly at him in return. “How long ‘till we’re there?” 

His features turn into guilty ones then, his fingers fidgeting where they hold the sheet, his lips bitten and redder than the usual. Leesh averts her gaze from that specific spot because obsessing surely won’t look nice, and she doesn’t want him thinking she might be creepy. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits quietly, smiling even more guiltily. “From the road to the station there’s a 3 mile walk, but I don’t know exactly what we’ve already accomplished,” Harry tilts his head to the side, eyes the small girl so intently she tries not to flinch. “You tired already? We’re not really that far.” 

And there’s concern, behind his words, but mostly, there’s amusement. Elisha hates him for making everything sound genuine, though, so she places one of her palms against his chest and tries to push him away, the gesture a mere shove, but it’s slow enough, it seems, for Harry to tug at her hand and pull her in, wrap his arms around her and hold her there for not enough seconds. 

“Want a piggyback ride?” he mumbles into her hair, his chest trembling with the vibration of his voice chords, one of his hands absently tracing patterns on her back (she barely feels it, however; the clothes too thick and too layered to allow the sensation) and the other loosely holding his notes. 

“Think I’m fine for now, thank you,” her own breath warms up her cheeks as they’re pressed against his jumper, not enough space left for the air to follow a path of its own, dissipate as it mixes with the atmosphere and blends into the cold. She breathes in and out calmly until he pulls away, hands ghosting over her shoulders. “C’mon now, keep going with your fascinating story.” 

Harry pretends to gap, mouth slack in disbelief and bewilderment. “Don’t you dare make fun of my story, Elisha. This is culture, you know?” This time when he reaches for her, is to completely pull her over his limbs, managing to attach her tiny body to his back, where she can’t do much more than silently protest and place a gentle hold around his neck.