espionage [h.s.]

SIXTY

A.N. obviously i'm very sorry for not updating in a while, but i did warn you guys that updates would be slowing down during deadline season bc i have SO much uni work to do, and i was also ill for a couple weeks, so i guess we can't do much about that haha. but regardless, i hope you enjoy this long awaited chapter 🤍

HARRY

My chest heaves up and down unevenly, my gaze focused on the punching bag still swinging back and forth on its hook from a few feet away. Dropping my exhausted body down onto the bench, I pull off the boxing gloves, carelessly tossing them across the room before beginning to pull off the bandage wraps from my hands, letting them fall down onto the bench. I don't know how long I've been in this room, but the air is thick and stuffy with the heat I've clearly accumulated during my workout, evident by the sheen layer of sweat now covering my body and the breathless pants leaving my lips.

Once free from both the gloves and wraps, I flex my hands as I peer at the bruises and cuts now littering across my cracked knuckles. Over the past few weeks, all of my other activities have gradually become haunted by Rochelle's memory, and boxing remains the one thing that offers me some respite. The pool is tainted with the image of us kissing in the water, the gym is plagued by the sound of her humming along to music as she runs on the treadmill, the running track outside is full with the memory of her smirking over at me. Boxing is really the only exercise where I can fully switch off, my thoughts and heartbeat syncing up with the steady thump of my fists against the punching bag, one after another, over and over again, the hypnotising, monotonous rhythm managing to dull my other sense for a while.

But just like everything else, the distraction diffuses eventually, and reality starts to seep in again. It returns now as I sit on the bench, the pain reclaiming it's rightful home back inside my chest like a furled fist tightening around the remnants of my mangled heart. As time has gone on, I've stopped wondering if it'll ever stop, because I've come to the conclusion that it probably won't. Sometimes, on a good day, the pain fades from raging agony to a dull ache, but nevertheless, it's still there. I think it always will be.

All of a sudden, my silence is disrupted by the sound of the door opening and my gaze quickly flashes over to it, eyebrows furrowing as a head pops around the door. For a second, I swear I see a glimpse of dark curls and brown eyes, but then my vision refocuses and the mirage is replaced by blonde hair and blue eyes, and I realise that it's actually just Klaudia. Ignoring the deflation of my heart, I attempt to keep my expression neutral, not wanting to be rude and make my disappointment too evident. "Oh, hi, Klaudia," I say, not bothering to use her surname like I usually would. I used to pride myself on my professionalism, but that started to slip as soon as Rochelle arrived. "What's up?"

She shoots me a smile, stepping further into the room as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hey, I was just looking for a room to train in and all the others were full so...."

"Oh, yeah, right," I say, a deep breath falling from my lips as I begin to gather up my stuff. "I'm done now, you can have this one."

Seemingly in response to my sigh, Klaudia's face slips into a small frown, tentatively making her way over to me. "Are you ok, Harry?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowed low in a rather striking expression of concern.

"I'm fine," I reply automatically. "Just....tired."

She hums softly, taking a seat beside me on the bench. "Yeah, I've definitely sensed that," she says. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," I lie.

Unsurprisingly, Klaudia doesn't look too convinced, which probably isn't helped by the small yawn that escapes me as I say it. "Listen," she says in a gentle tone, scooting a little closer to me on the bench. "I know you're going through a hard time right now, but you're a strong man, Harry. I know you'll be able to get through this."