Slow Burn | HS

burn away my pride

August 2017

Novel in hand, Joelle waits at a coffee shop, sipping her latte and patiently waiting for Harry. She knows he'll text her when he gets out, so her phone sits in front of her on the table.

It's a beautiful day. Temperature in the mid-80s but without a drop of humidity. The slight breeze and shade of the tree above her keep her cool in her outdoor seat.

She's about to finish her second chapter of the day when two strong arms wrap around her shoulders and a pair of lips meet her cheek. She would be alarmed, but the sight of a familiar mermaid on a tan forearm brings a smile to her face.

"Mmm," a voice hums in her ear, warm before leaving another kiss. "It should be illegal to both look and smell so sweet." Joelle turns in her chair and smiles up at Harry. He looks back at her, seemingly happy and calm, however sunglasses obstruct her view of his eyes so she can't be too sure. "I just want to know if you taste as sweet."

She stands so he doesn't have to bend down again, mindful of the one crutch he still relies on as she pushes out her chair. The external fixator had been removed and was replaced with a rod and some screws in his thigh. At this point in his recovery, he is able to bear some weight on his injured limb, but not too much, a fine line that he was still determining.

Harry attended physical therapy twice a week, slowly regaining strength and relearning how to perform everyday activities like walk, lift his leg, and move his leg to drive a car. Soon, he'd be able to just walk using a cane before he would finally be able to walk independently without any assistive devices.

"How did your session go?" Joelle asks after greeting him with a kiss.

"Not too bad," he replies, pushing his sunglasses higher on the bridge of his nose. "Next week, she wants me to ask my father if he'd be willing to attend a session, and then maybe eventually, we can come to one together."

Joelle stares up at him, trying not to look too awed, but she constantly finds herself in various states of shock at Harry's recovery - both mentally and physically. Along with physical therapy, he'd been attending counseling sessions for just over a month.

Relearning how to handle his grief and value his own life over the lives of others had not been easy for him. At first, Harry looked exhausted walking out of his sessions. He looked like he'd just walked away from a 24 hour shift at the firehouse. Head facing down, hands in his pockets, eyes unfocused. Joelle was so worried that he might never start to feel better, that he'd bottle up his emotions and let them weigh on him so much for the rest of his life.

But by week three, she could see remarkable improvement. He was smiling often, and would walk out of his sessions looking lighter. He no longer felt like Atlas, the weight of the world resting solely on his shoulders. He was now learning new techniques to channel his thoughts while on calls, and realizing that, contrary to what he had confessed to Joelle before, his safety should be his priority while rescuing a family from a fire.

He was learning that his mother and sister were gone, no matter what he did. It took time for him to affirm that risking his own life to try to prevent anyone else from experiencing the pain that he and his father felt was not going to allow him to move on with his life and continue to heal.

"Are you finished with your coffee?" he asks, grabbing her hand in his on the good side of his body.

"Yes. We just need to make a pit stop back home because I forgot to pick up the paper plates earlier when I was helping Mara set up"

Harry nods, turning to slowly make the trek back to her apartment. He was still crashing with her at her apartment for the time being until he was strong enough for the three floor walk up to his apartment.