meraki.

The Twinge

If anything could've blossomed from that really short, really tense, really intense, really emotionally charged moment that both Anna and Harry had experienced atop of her bed, right before Harry would've bee-lined to his room to get ready for his date of that night with Mariam, leaving Anna staring at the ceiling, still somehow uncapable of moving one single muscle, while waiting for her breathing system to go back to its normal functioning, Harry himself made sure to crush those little crumbs that had planted themselves inside of both of their minds, threatening to grow and become something that neither of them two wanted, nor had the time and the emotional stability to deal with. 

He had gone out, after getting all dressed up for would only be a normal walk in the city centre and an unplanned trip to the nearest beach - almost 45 kilometers - his mind doing the best it could to bury the memories of that afternoon, using memories he had built for himself with Mariam during the nights they had spent together to cover it up as best as it could. 

And yet, those moments always found a way to pop out, completely unprovoked, lingering in the back of his head, their elbows resting on his neurons, waiting for him to acknowledge them and properly elaborate what said memories made him feel and awakened inside of him. 

Quite the nuissance. 

So, naturally, instead of doing what would've brought that unfortunate circumstance to properly cease - meaning, sitting down and examinate each thing that was going on inside of his mind - Harry had came up with a brilliant plan to avoid and dodge the little moments of dissociation he had been having for the first half of the night: whenever the memory re-presented itself and stared at him, waiting to be validated, he'd quickly recall another memory to shut it down, and remind himself what really mattered. No matter the memory he recalled, what mattered was that it put to rest the one from that afternoon. And the many more that had decided to revisit his mind. 

He had also remained outside longer than he normally would've on a Thursday night. But that night wasn't an ordinary Thursday night: Harry was clearly not in the right state of mind to go back home, his mind far too occupied with preventing unwanted things to peep inside of his brain, ready to corrupt his mind into making up scenarios and things that clearly weren't there. 

He had ignored Mariam's whines and complaints about it being far too late for her liking, as they walked down the shore of the beach, the air a bit too cold even for him, especially because they were standing right next to the sea. Harry had let the tip of his nose frost to the point he couldn't feel it anymore, before finally deciding it was time to go back home. 

Albeit he wasn't feeling like it, he invited Mariam to stay over, because that was just their routine at that point, and she had agreed, even though she was a bit upst with him because he hadn't gave in sooner to her cries of wanting to go home, being too busy staring at the sea. He hadn't even bothered to hold her hand. 

But she liked him, she liked him a lot, so she naturally just said yes. 

Getting home, for the first time, Harry had done his best to be as silent as possible, making close to no noise, intimating Mariam to make no noise as well. He didn't want to wake Anna up, because he still wasn't ready to face her and whatever she would've had to tell him. Mostly, he just didn't want to see her, because he knew that just seeing her would've sent his brain in a short circuit. His mind would've flooded with the weirdest of ideas, and the memories would've just filled him to the brim, confusing him more than he already was.

So it was just for the best if he kept the noises to a minimal, and tiptoed to his room, forcing Mariam to tiptoe as well, locked the door and then go to sleep. 

He hadn't slept well, unlike Mariam, who had fallen asleep as soon as her head had hit the pillow. 

Harry had remained awake for a while, staring at the ceiling, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed all the words he should've said that evening, but hadn't because he had been too preoccupied with something else - something he should've distract himself from. Mariam was there for that exact reason, after all.