Almost Famous |h.s|

The Way We Were

The air felt thick with tension now that he was in my hotel room. I had almost slammed the door in his face but his tattooed arm had prevented me from shutting it all the way. All he had had to do was look at me with those emerald green eyes and I had sighed in defeat, for what could I have done? I had to sit down and talk with him tomorrow for our first part of the interviewing process so why not get the awkwardness out of the way now? He also had always had a certain power over me and one look from him made me crumble. It had always been that way so why even try to fight him on it.

Now I was sat on the couch, legs folded underneath myself as he stood across from me against the wall, watching me like a hawk. His black t shirt was tight against his chest and arms but the shirt hung loosely at his sides, his brown trousers sitting off his hips instead of his waist like I was used to seeing him wear these days, and his hands were stuffed into the front pockets. We had been like this for an almost uncomfortable amount of time...me sitting on the couch looking anywhere but him and him waiting for me to make the first move. He was the one who came here and yet he seemed to be waiting for me to say something first. I was beginning to get frustrated by it.

In this lighting his face was all sharp angles. The setting of the sun cast an amber glow into the room and onto his skin and shadows played up the beautiful lines of his face making him appear much older. The ink on his arm appeared much darker in the shadows and to this day I still wasn't sure what all of those drawings were nor what they meant. Just another testament to how little I still knew about him. He cleared his throat and I flicked my eyes up to his, flushing slightly at the fact that he'd caught me checking him out. I rolled my eyes and looked to the window, praying that the light wouldn't highlight the redness of my cheeks.

"Did you read my letter?" His deep voice drawled out and I slowly nodded, still looking out over the city from where I sat. 

"And?" He followed up and I sat there thinking about how best to answer his question.

"Thank you?" I had started to say 'thank you' as a statement but towards the end it felt weird to say so it ended up sounding like a sarcastic question back to him...which I hadn't intended. I glanced over at Harry and he rolled his eyes, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

"That's all you have to say? A 'thank you'?" He was irritated...I could tell but I didn't know what he wanted me to say. What do I address first? His apparent former love for me? The music? The funeral?

"How long were you at the funeral?" I blurted out and this took him by surprise. He lifted a hand out of his pocket and scratched behind his ear seeming unsure of how to proceed with this change of topic. 

"I was there from start to finish...why?" He looked away from me, clearly uncomfortable by something and I tried to think back to that day and what all I remembered from it. 

"I don't remember seeing you there." I admitted as I searched my memory, the only time I thought I had seen him it had seemed to just be my imagination.

"I can't imagine that you would...I was near the back at the church and I stood a great distance away at the burial. I didn't want to take away from the moment by being there...I didn't want news crews or anyone for that matter suddenly making that day about me." He gave me a small smile but his eyebrows were furrowed like something was bothering him. I suddenly realized he'd seen me break down at the church. 

"You...uh...you saw me at the church then." I forced out, my hands picking at each other nervously as I looked down at the floor, suddenly finding the carpet to be the most fascinating thing in the room instead of the ethereal being standing across from me.