Strangers

Chapter 57: Hurricane Harry

A/N: I put a song to the side that I feel REALLY suits their relationship at the moment sooo have a listen if ya feel like ya wanna.

The tears had come back thick and fast, and I was really wondering how much you can cry over one person. If I totalled all the tears I cried over him last year, I'd have to say if there's a limit I would be close to reaching it.
There was two things keeping me going at this point, and Christmas certainly wasn't one of them. One, was my conversations with Seth, which had become a daily thing, most of the time involving me taking him coffee and sitting on the edge of his desk, reading a paper he was struggling to mark, and then arguing with him over some form of legislation we didn't agree on. It was odd, and it was new, but it was exactly what I needed. If only for an hour a day, I had a distraction from my confusion and heartache. It was nice.
The second thing, which is more ironic than I can begin to comprehend; was Harry. I'd returned from a lecture one day to find a mini fridge in my room, full of mac'n'cheese in containers, and a note saying 'now you have no excuse not to eat.' He continues to surprise me with how well he's handling this break up. I thought it would be bitter, but it isn't. At least not yet. At the moment, it's good, but it's confusing. It's sort of like when you have a hang over and someone suggests a bloody Mary, saying that hair of the dog is the best cure. Maybe Harry is my bloody Mary, and the cause really is the best cure.

...

"Char, are you awake?" The croaky sound of Harry's morning voice was waking me from a deep sleep, dragging me out of the depths of dream land and back to reality.

"Are you up?" The sound is slightly muffled by my pillow covering my phone.

"Harry we can't keep doing this." I grumble, reaching for my phone under my pillowcase and holding it up to my ear as I roll over.

"How did you sleep?" He asks, the way he has every morning lately.

"Not great. How about you?"

"Better." He says, coughing.

"That's good, I guess." I say, feeling drained from our late night phone calls.

"We're never going to move on if we keep doing this."

"It'll get easier in time." He says...his go-to response whenever I try to prompt some sort of discussion between us about what we're actually doing.

"I'm starting to doubt that. I don't think you realise how much these phone calls are counter-productive when it comes to getting over you. The second you hang up in the morning it's like all the pain of our breakup comes flooding back, and the only thing I have to stave off that pain is the excitement of you calling again that night. And whilst that's fine at the moment, it also kind of relies on you being consistent, and if I get used to these phone calls and you suddenly stop them, then I don't know if I could handle that." I confront him, we've been dancing around the topic for far too long and I can feel it with every phone call that we're both getting sucked back in to somewhere we never really got out of. We didn't have time. We went straight from relationship to break up to this foggy in between friends whatever, and I'm too confused within myself to question it too much because as much as it hurts not being with him, it would hurt more without these phone calls, and I know it would hurt him more too...so I can't just put an end to it, even though I know the long-term damage will be substantial. Now that he's back in London, it would make more sense for us to just meet up and talk about it all in person, but I'm not ready for another intense interaction with him, not after Gemma's party. He could easily win me over with the touch of a hand, and I'm never going to be strong enough for myself if I let him control me whenever he wants.

I have to resist the urge to question why he suddenly can make the effort to call me every day, talk for hours about everything and nothing like we used to, and then insist on falling asleep to the sound of each other breathing, only to wake up to the exact same thing, followed by the sound of the other's voice, considering how very few times he called me while he was on tour. (just feel like a comparison between his clinging now and how easy it was for him to forget her during tour was necessary, but if you're planning on putting this in later ignore me) I'm not complaining, because it's more than I thought I would get through the darkness that is this "break up", but at the same time I know it's not good for me, and I know that when we broke up, there were very valid points made as for why we can't, and will never be together.