How I Heal

Harry's POV

Harry's POV

If there was one thing I knew,
it was that love was a lot like coffee.

It was piping when it's hot, indigestible when it's cold, and hard to swallow when it's not something you're looking for.

Now I never knew love in itself had a taste, a smell, or even a face, but the moment I met Violet, I knew it was the closest thing to the feeling I was ever going to get.

If love was something you could pour into a cup and drink when it's hot, it was no wonder I pushed everyone away.

I don't drink coffee.

I was never one with my consistency. I was bad at articulating my feelings, bad at knowing what feelings are, bad at existing. I wasn't particularly good at anything or anyone, my relationships with people never lasted more than weeks at a time.

"What is that?" Violet mumbled.

Her voice. It was often soft, like a cloud had embodied itself and rested within her throat at every spoken word.

But this time, I knew it wasn't a matter of her being gentle. Rather her being concerned.

My eyes fell to my wrist and the minute I got a feel of what she had seen, I quickly withdrew my hand.

This is where being me gets complicated. Building a wall around myself had been the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but it was also the only outcome I knew to a hard circumstance.

The higher the wall, the stronger it stood, and I had no intent to stab myself saving her from the sword.

My breath had hitched in my throat. I was scared. Shitless. I didn't know how to react whenever she brought up the scars that surrounded me. Some of them may have been healed, but it didn't stop the throbbing every time she gave me those broken eyes when she asked me what was wrong.

"Nothing," I choked out, trying to make my voice come off as firm as possible.

She gave me those eyes, those ones she knew would crumble my walls and break me into telling her what she wanted to hear, but no.

I couldn't let her in.

Not this time.

"You can't hide this from me forever. I know something's wrong."

I inhaled briefly, closing my eyes to hide the pain before I snapped at her.

"Nothing's wrong! You're always prying into everything about my life even though I told you on multiple occasions to leave it alone."

She started shaking her head, saying something about me pushing her away and this entire exchange being unfair but I couldn't listen to anything except for the sound of my breathing and my heart stopping for several seconds at a time. Everything felt so much more complex when she was involved.

I don't understand. Pushing her away shouldn't hurt this much.

"You're basically asking me to not care about you," was all I heard before I quickly said, "Yes. Exactly. If that's what it takes."

She shook her head stubbornly and I knew the battle between her sanity and her care were suffering, but I couldn't let that blindside me. I had to create some level of distance between us.

I was sick. I couldn't let her get attached to a liability. It was too risky.

"You don't mean that," She whispered. "You're just saying shit because you don't want to tell me anything personal. You have to let someone in."

You're right. You're absolutely right.

I had to tear my eyes away from her, out of plain fear that she would look into them and force my truth through my windpipe.

"I'm better on my own."

I'm not.

You can't always do this you know," She quietly said. "Someday you're gonna push everybody away until nobody stays."

I rolled my eyes knowing deep down that that was exactly what I feared the most. I always thought it inevitable for people to just pack up the pieces of themselves they gave to others and walk away as if they hadn't done exactly that. It didn't matter what anyone said. Everything was always temporary.

"As if anybody ever does."

That line struck an emotional cord. She felt that one so deep within her that she actually managed to tear her eyes away from me. I couldn't look at her knowing what I had done. I knew Violet. She would never purposely look away from me, unless she had finally given up.

Unless she had finally called it quits.

"I'm leaving," she said, her voice wavering.

No.

Please.

Don't go.

I fell into silence. I was afraid if I said anything, my mouth would have betrayed my mind. I knew all she had to do was tell me how much she cared for me, and I would fall into the emotional trap and leave a key out for to enter every unspoken secret, hard struggle, or the things that made or break me.

If it was up to her, I would have said everything I never did.

But it wasn't. So my lips remained sealed.

She gave me one last longing look, one that told me that it was okay. One that pleaded with me to tell her to stay.

Please.

Please stay.

But she didn't.

She walked away.

Everything;

hurts.

I wish I knew sooner, that love had this bad of an aftertaste.