Through The Dark || Harry Styles

14. HARRY

HARRY

"Nothing too dramatic," I tell Lucy about my day while sits in Preston's usual chair on the opposite side of my desk. He finally left us alone, getting back to work and taking his teasing about Sarah Cavanah with him. "A couple of tooth extractions, a cat with a broken leg and a canine neutering," I tell her as I swivel from side to side my chair.

"Sounds stressful," she remarks, her smile as gentle as her voice.

I shake my head. "Nah, routine procedures, could do them in my sleep."

She exhales a laugh. It seems like the boring stories of my day are successfully distracting her from the real reason she called me in the first place. I don't ask her why she left work early, she'll tell me if she wants to, but I'm happy to indulge her in my mundane daily tasks if that's what she needs.

"Your office doesn't look like I expected it to," she says, her eyes scanning the blank white walls, glancing over the couple of posters about animal health and the importance of teeth cleaning.

"Yeah, they wouldn't let me put up my vintage movie posters and play scrabble at my desk," I grin and love that an unexpected laugh bursts from her lungs.

"Bastards. Let him live!" she jokes and it's my turn to chuckle.

The door opening has us both turning to face the intruder, Preston's face that pokes through is nothing but friendly.

"Hey guys, a few of us are going to head out for some drinks, you in?"

I wait for Lucy's rejection and the excuses I know are coming, festering from her anxiety of being around a crowd of strangers and her hatred from impromptu invitations. I almost fall out of my chair when she looks back at me and shrugs.

--

The beer in my hand is going down as well as my first one. There is nothing exceptional about this particular watering-hole that was chosen, other than the fact it's across the road from the hospital.

We stand to one side of the typical English pub, the type that I missed so much while living in America, their sports bars not quite as warm and cosy as what I am used to.

Lucy talks with a hand around her glass of wine and the other constantly tugging the hem of her blazer or straightening her skirt. I know I should probably be getting to know my new colleagues better, it's only been a couple of months since I started my job, but there's a stronger part of me that doesn't want to move from this corner.

"You cleaned the communal kitchen for two hours?" I ask and watch her take a deep sigh; all I need to answer my question.

"I just want to go to work and spend one day when no one knows about the accident, no one asks me how I'm feeling or worry that I'm not okay. You're lucky," she gestures around the room to my workmates that have no clue the colossal amount of heartbreak I've been dealing with.

I nod in complete understanding.

Lucy rubs her forehead with the tips of her fingers, her head down in contemplation.

"Maybe I am crazy, Harry."

Her small voice punches me in the chest and I put my drink down to take a step forward. Cupping her face in my hand I direct her attention to me. She flinches initially at my touch but eases after a moment.

My thumbs brush against her soft cheeks just once, halting when I hear her breath catch.

"Listen to me, babe. You're not crazy. The more you let people convince you that you are, the worse off you'll be."