Adore [H.S.]

44

A/N: this is a warning, if you struggle with suicidal thoughts or know someone who has, this may be a trigger. If you do struggle, I encourage you to talk to someone. You are never alone in this life. There are people here to talk to and help you. You are loved- even if you may feel like you're not.

ISABELLA

It's funny how fast a place can become your home. It doesn't take long for a city that was once foreign and rather frightening to become the one place you feel the most safe at. London had quickly become that for me.

Harry pulled up in front of his apartment building. Even outside of the city, the night was alive. People filled the sidewalks, cars on the roads. Laughter and excited chatter sounding from each home that we passed. All enjoying the Easter holiday. Oblivious to the slight discomfort in this best up Volkswagen. The harsh rumble of the engine cooling subsides. Harry's grip loosening on the key. He doesn't say anything as he steps out of the car. I follow him silently behind. He carries our bags through the door, even though I offered to carry my own. He sets his bag on the ground as he searches his back pocket for his key. Once he finds it, he is quick to unlock and the door swings back.

Harry steps aside for me to walk in first. The harsh darkness of the vacant room takes me off guard, my vision taking a moment to focus. My senses are on overdrive. I am overwhelmed by Harry's scent the moment I stepped inside his apartment. Or, rather, his flat.

Scratch out everything I had thought before about London being home. This, right here, amidst the overwhelming scent of cigarette, laundry detergent, cologne and mint- was home. Harry was becoming my home.

"Shit," I hear Harry groan. He flicks the light switch on, the soft light illuminating the small living room.

I watch as Harry slips his boots off. The bags long forgotten on the floor. I slip my own boots off, wiggling my toes in relief.

"Babe. 'M come 'ere." He holds his hand out for me. The small gesture quickens my heartbeat.

My hand finds it's place intertwined with his. He gives it a small squeeze. I follow Harry's lead towards his bedroom. The light of the streetlamp below illuminating the room. We don't bother to turn on the light; the light from outside guiding us.

I let Harry sit down first. I follow him soon after, leaning my back against the wall. We sit in silence for a moment before Harry sits up straighter. His long legs stretched out against the mattress. Time seemed to grow still, our steady breaths being heard across the small space. I feel Harry stir beside me. Soon after his arm reaches around my body, his hand against my waist, and my side pressed against his.

"When my dad left us, my mom had this friend. Jenna. " I stay quiet once Harry begins to speak. His voice is soft; a complete contrast to his usual loud and steady tone. " She let us stay with her and her family. Her husband, Nick, was cool. He became more of a father figure to me than Mark ever was. They had a daughter: Sarah." Harry pauses. His eyes glance down and back up to the vacant wall in front of him. "She was my age. We ended up becoming best friends. We did everything together."

My eyes glance over at the vulnerable man beside me. I looked at the corner of his eye, catching a glimpse of the redness that lined them. I could already tell that this Sarah girl was important to him. Whoever she was. I couldn't help the aching feeling in my chest when I thought about Harry with another girl. Especially a girl that held so much importance to him. Was it wrong to feel jealous of this Sarah? To be jealous of a girl that probably had all of his heart. To had been given so freely his love and trust- something I was still striving to own.

"When we were fourteen, 'm I asked her on a date. We went to the movies. I told her that night that I liked her and wanted her to be mine. " The tinge of jealousy I had a sliver of grew exceptionally larger. "She said yeah and we were together."