espionage [h.s.]

TWENTY

A.N. these are the kinda vibes I get when writing/imagining Rochelle's character, although obviously you guys can imagine who you want. although I should remind you that she is biracial (half jamaican & half white British) which I think is important bc representation matters people!!

I might add a few visuals for the other characters into an earlier chapter, but idk so let me know if you'd like to see that

also I've noticed the votes & comments have been going down again, so do remember to leave a vote & a few comments bc feedback helps and I'd like to know if you guys are actually enjoying this story and want me to continue with it lol

ROCHELLE

Harry seems visibly tense during training a few days later. Throughout the entire hour or so of gym training, he remains in the same position. His back pressed against the wall, strong arms folded across his chest, face stolid and eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, seeming to just be staring into space as everyone else moves around him.

Despite our moment at the supplies base when he treated the cut on my cheek and we seemed to resolve our argument, we still haven't spoken much since. Apart from the occasional and very brief trainer to trainee comments, but I don't think that really counts. The lack of communication isn't just my doing though, because he's barely uttered a word to me either. Not that I'm surprised, because I get the impression that he's the type to brush things under the rug and forget they ever happened rather than talk about them. He definitely doesn't seem the type to discuss his feelings, but then again, neither am I. That's one thing we have in common, I suppose.

Even though I know I shouldn't, and I begin to harbour some self-hatred because of it, I find myself continuously glancing over at Harry for the duration of the training session. I keep up my facade of concentrating on training, but meanwhile I'm also watching Harry closely, noting his rather emotionless expression. His pink lips are pursed slightly, dark eyebrows pulled low over his pale green eyes that remain focused on one spot on the wall, only occasionally scanning the room as if to check everyone's still doing what they're supposed to. His face holds a look of indifference, and I find myself wondering what's caused his seemingly sour mood.

He's so zoned out that I don't think he even notices that the training session is over until the trainees begin to leave, not bothered about being dismissed as we've all completed the compulsory time in the gym anyway. When he eventually does notice the trainees filing out, he doesn't seem to care that much anyway, just pulling away from the wall slightly as he waits for all the trainees to leave.

Turning back to the equipment I was using, I deliberately pack everything away slowly so I can be the last trainee in the room, and actually get the chance to talk to him. Because for some peculiar and possibly deranged reason, I want to know what's wrong. I know that I shouldn't care, that I shouldn't be interested in him in any other way than my job requires me to be, but I am, because he's simply an interesting person. Throughout the time I've spent here, I've discovered that there's just something so enthralling about him, something in him that manages to captivate my usually uninterested mind. Even the simple things he does fascinate me and I often find myself wondering what he thinks about and what he enjoys doing. He makes me curious, which is rather peculiar because it's very rare that someone can hold my attention long enough for me to want to know stuff about them.