#TFA8

[looselucy]

Sunflower

19 “Come in, come in!” My mother ushered the two of us inside. I was cringing at my state already, but I refused to let go of Harry’s hand. Even when my mother opened her arms to him, expecting a hug, I made the experience very awkward for him because I just didn’t let go. He leant down to her, receiving a warm welcome. “You must be Harry.” She said the obvious. “So I’ve been told.” Harry replied. He gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek before he withdrew, and I wondered if Curls just had this effect on mothers, because my mum was swooning just looking at him. He’d said four words and I could tell she was smitten.

He withdrew from her, and came and stood beside me, our arms bashing together and my fingers tightening around his, already using him as support before she’d even said anything to me. “That’s a strange outfit choice.” My mother said, her voice so bright and cheery it was like she wanted to fool me into thinking it was a compliment. “Good to see you too, mum.” I groaned. “Cheer up Florence, it’s Christmas!” She smiled. “Now come on through, make yourself at home.” She pottered off to the left-hand side of the house, into the kitchen, and Harry automatically came and stood in front of me, looking down to my miserable self with wide eyes, and I could tell that he was already confused by the greeting my mother had given me. “It’s going to get worse.” I shrugged, not looking him in the eye. “That was nothing.” “Ren, she didn’t even say hello to you.” I just shrugged again, and dropped his hand, following her into the kitchen. It wouldn’t have usually upset me. I was used to my mum greeting me by commenting on my outfit, or asking if I’d washed my hair, or asking why I was looking so pale. I was very aware she was going to say something like that, she had done for years. I guess it only bothered me because Harry was there witnessing it. Harry had an idea that my parents were going to give me a hard time, but he was there, seeing it with his own two eyes. He’d seen the very tamest thing he could, and he was shooting me this look already. This look of sympathy and sorrow, already. He hadn’t seen anything yet. He followed swiftly behind, plastering a huge smile on his face, and returning to his charming self as my mother leaned herself against the kitchen counter, watching his every move. “Your home is lovely.” Harry complimented. “Thank you very much.” My mother returned as me and Curls came to a stop at the other side of the kitchen counter. “A realtor came round last week and told us it’s worth almost a million.” “Are you moving?” I gawped. “No, we just wanted to know.” “Right. Where’s dad?” “He’s out playing a spot of croquet. He’ll be in soon I imagine.” Harry placed his bag on the chair that was tucked against the counter, and in a couple of seconds, he pulled the bottle of white wine from inside, passing it over to my mother with a grin on his face. “For having me.” He simply said. “What a gentleman.” She took it from his hands, and looked it up and down. “This is a nice bottle, Harry. It’s nice to know you have good taste.” She moved to the far side of the kitchen to place the bottle in the wine-rack, and I turned to Harry, which he felt, and turned to me. “I nicked it from work.” He whispered. “Louis said it’s a good one.” “I adore you.” I whispered back. “So Harry,” My mother grinned, moving back to us. “Florence hasn’t told us very much about you, since she never bothers to speak to us. I need to know everything.” “Well your daughters a very busy girl.” Harry gracefully flicked his hair, he had complete control. “Her manager almost didn’t grant her the time off for Christmas. I imagine the place will fall apart without her.” “Hopefully not, she needs that job.” My mother nodded. “Tell me about you, Harry?” I watched Harry’s brows flick down, just for a moment, something my mother would never take note of, but I certainly did. The little flinch, the slight crease of his features, read that he couldn’t believe that my mother had twisted his words and not found a positive in them. Harry had said they needed me at work, and all she could think about was how I needed to work. All I cared about, really, was the effort Harry was making. “I work in a high-end cocktail bar.” He began. “I’m on very good money. I have my own apartment in the city. I enjoy collecting art, and I have a cat. My dad is an interior designer and my mother is a care-worker. I once came third in a talent show, but that’s a totally different story.” “One I would love to hear at some point over the next few days.” My mum cooed. “Did you go to university?” “I did.” He nodded. “Where did you go? And did you graduate?” Her eyes shot to me for a split second, before they were back on Harry, waiting for his answer, praying it would suit her needs. “First-class honours from Nottingham University. Business Studies. It was tedious.” He smiled. He was doing everything he possibly could. He even tainted his own university time to make me look better. He’d told me himself how much he loved uni, but he added that end bit just to help me out, just in an attempt to make me look a little better in my mother’s eyes. I couldn’t believe how well he was doing. “Well, it’s very good to hear my daughter has found herself such a well put-together young man. You’re very lucky, Florence.” “I feel like I’m the lucky one.” Harry cooed, his smile fake in my eyes but probably not in my mothers, as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I sunk into his side, smiling to my mother, seeing the look of approval trace her features. I breathed a sigh of relief, because it was working. This ridiculous plan was actually working, and I could see it all happening in the cogs of my mother’s brain as she watched us. She was buying it. I mean… it would have been weird if she wasn’t buying it, but she was really buying it. Harry moved and kissed my temple, delicate, and then returned to his previous position. Beatrice looked very impressed. “So how have you been, Florence?” She asked next. “How’s work and… stuff?” “It’s good. I’m good. Yeah, it’s all going pretty well, actually.” “How about therapy?” She asked, her tone dropping. “Has Florence told you she attends therapy, Harry?” “She has, yeah.” Curls nodded. “It’s going pretty well. I… I need to talk to you and dad about it, at some point this weekend.” I had set myself up for it now, the chat that Dr Jackson wanted me to have with them. Mentioning it then, even if it was briefly, meant that I had to say something, at some point. I didn’t want to avoid it, so it was better for me to say something then. It made me feel like I had to do it. She nodded, accepting what I had just said even though I had been expecting her to question it. She accepted it very quickly. Everything was confusing me. “Well it’s lovely to finally meet you, Harry. Theodore is very excited too, but this is the first Christmas for three years where he hasn’t been on-call at work, so he’s taking his time to relax. Why don’t you two go upstairs, make yourselves at home, and come down when you’re ready.” “Okay, sounds good.” I shrugged. She gave a little wave, directed to Harry more than it was to me, but to be honest I couldn’t blame her. Harry engrossed an entire room without even meaning to, I’d seen it happen. My mother’s reaction to him was totally natural, and Harry was purposefully turning on the charm. She turned and walked to the back door, letting herself out of there and leaving the two of us alone again. “You gunna show me to your bedroom or what?” Harry grinned. “How many times have you said that in your life?” I sniggered. “Less than you think.” “Of course.” I rolled my eyes. We walked back into the hall and made our way up the grand staircase that lay in the centre, turning round on ourselves on the left hand side as I took him to the room where we would be staying for the next few nights. I think Harry was excited to see my room, to get a snippet of my life, to feel like he knew me a little better. So when he walked into the room, and saw how blank it was, I couldn’t help but laugh at the disappointed look on his face. The walls were blank, the sheets white, the curtains white. No books, no old teddies, no TV, no stains on the carpets, absolutely nothing. There wasn’t a thing in there that suggested a teenage girl had inhabited it for any length of time. “Is this the guest room?” Harry asked me. “No, it’s my room.” I answered. “There’s nothing here!” “I took everything I needed to uni! My mum and dad threw away everything else.” I spoke. “Then when I got my flat, they painted and stuff. I think they do use it as another guest room now, but yeah, it’s my room.” I could tell Harry was confused by that, but he didn’t say anything about it. I didn’t think it was weird, I thought that was a relatively normal thing for any parent to do once their child had moved out. He moved, throwing his bag onto the bed and opening it, routing through its contents for something or other. I took my ruck-sack off my back and dropped it to the floor, swallowing, watching Harry in silence for a few moments. “Thank you.” I said from nowhere. He lifted his head to me, some of his untamed curls falling in front of his face before he brushed them away, looking to me like he had no clue what I was thanking him for. I was realising that Harry didn’t have a clue how amazing he was. He didn’t have a clue the effect he had on people, how kind and thoughtful and inviting he was. He genuinely didn’t know. “What for?” He puzzled. “You were great, with my mum then. I just… I’m never gunna be able to say how much I appreciate what you’re doing for me. I know it was your idea but… I dunno. Just… thanks. You’re very good at being my boyfriend.” He grinned like a fool, his lips stretching from ear to ear, and I had to question why he didn’t actually have a girlfriend. He was gorgeous, good job, polite, sweet, charismatic. There had to be something wrong with him. It genuinely didn’t make any sense. He was there, with me, pretending to be my boyfriend, when I imagined he had girls at his feet, especially in his line of work, where he was handing out bloody cards with his number on. The only thing that made sense was that he loved that part of his life too much. He loved having that many choices when it came to his female endeavours. The boy was living the high life. “Well, you’re welcome.” He struggled for the right thing to say. “I’ll return the favour next week.” I promised. “You don’t need to do anything. Just be yourself. All they’ll care about is if you’re nice or not. So don’t worry about it. Just be you.” 20 We strolled into the dining room hand in hand, watching as my mother plated up the table, a soft smile on her face as she did. The early evening was dark, harsh winds making the branches of the trees outside clatter against the windows. My mother had tried to drown out the noises with piano music, but the gusts were unrelenting. Even so, walking into that room gave off a pleasant feel, candles scattered across the table, the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree in the corner giving an ethereal glow to the room. “This looks amazing.” Harry commented. “Thank you. Do take a seat.” My mother instructed. “You’re both on that side.” She scurried from the room, walking round the back of the house to get into the kitchen as we sat down and tucked ourselves in. Harry turned to me, leaning close so I could hear his low voice. “I think we should be kissing when she walks back in. Looks really natural then.” “Okay.” I nodded, giggling quietly. “Move closer then, so you’re ready.” He did just that, hovering his face just an inch from mine, ready to press his lips against mine when my mother walked back into the room. He looked directly into my glittering orbs, not shying away regardless of our close contact. “You have brown eyes.” He whispered. “My ex-boyfriend called me poo eyes.” I whispered back. “I’m not gunna do that.” He chuckled, still quiet. “That’s a terrible nickname.” “He was a pretty terrible person.” I shrugged. “We lasted about a month before we broke up.” “Well when he’s calling you poo eyes, I’m not surprised!” He gawped. “They’re more like… the centre of a sunflower.” “You’re probably the nicest boyfriend I’ve ever had.” “Honoured.” “She’s back! Kiss me!” He thrust his head forward and he planted his lips against mine, closing his eyes straight away as I rushed to catch up, propping my lips against his, breathing him in. It only lasted a moment. Once we heard my mother place the wine glasses on the table we pulled away, returning to our previous position, our chairs pulled close together. It wasn’t just that we were trying to show we were close, because in a way it had just become natural. We were used to this charade, after practicing and anticipating this. We hadn’t even planned on tucking our chairs so close that our arms were brushing, it just happened. “Are we cracking open the wine I brought?” Harry grinned, noticing the glasses. “Not tonight.” She replied, fixing the cutlery, which was apparently out of line. “We’re going to be drinking a fair amount over the next few days, so we thought we’d have a dry night.” I whipped my head to Harry, seeing his face drop. He’d really wanted to drink. He’d really wanted to get himself to a state where his dreams wouldn’t wake him. He didn’t want our first night together to be difficult, he didn’t want to wake me with his screams. He knew that alcohol would numb his racing mind, and he’d really needed that. We both knew I’d experience his dreams at some point, but he really hadn’t wanted it to be on the first night. He wanted to ease into it. His face dropped when he realised we were to be thrown in the deep end. “That’s a shame.” He tried to hide his disappointment. “I might go all shy on you.” “I doubt that, Harry.” My mother chuckled. “You don’t seem like the type.” She scuttled from the room again, shouting my father’s name and telling him everything was ready, as Harry sat beside me trying to control his breathing, looking down to the table cloth like he could find the solution to his problems woven within the fabric. “Please don’t worry about it.” I leaned closer to him. “It’s not going to bother me! It’ll be fine.” “I just wanted… Fuck. I didn’t want you to see me like that. Not tonight.” “I know. I’m sorry.” “Why are you sorry?” He finally looked my way. “I… I don’t know.” Footsteps pulled us from our conversation, Harry whipping his head behind himself to see my father enter the room, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. Harry leapt to his feet automatically, holding his hand out in greeting. My father approached him, mirroring the action. “Nice to finally meet you, Sir.” Harry breathed, trying to return to his normal, charming self. “You too.” My father replied genuinely. “Sorry I wasn’t around when you arrived.” “No worries at all.” Harry grinned, their shake still firm. “I understand your schedule must be hectic. You deserve some time off.” “Thank you.” He moved and sat himself down at the other side of the table as my mother started bringing out the food she had prepared and my father asked about my well-being, and work, and the other basics that I just mulled over. Once everything was set up, my mother sat herself down. “This looks lovely.” I smiled, picking up my knife and fork. “Tuck in.” She instructed. I took a moment to appreciate the sight of the food in front of me, knowing that this would be the best thing I’d eaten for months. Even above everything I’d eaten at restaurants. My mother was many things, and one of those things was a damn good chef. Everyone else was already tucking in by the time I started cutting at the food, and then rushing to shovel it into my mouth, relishing the taste, ready to devour the rest in seconds. I noticed my mother watching me rush my food across the table. “Be careful how much you eat.” She said. Still chewing, I shot my eyes up to her, glaring at her across the table. I waited until I’d swallowed to reply. “What?” “Just be careful how much you eat, Florence.” “If you don’t want me to eat this much food, don’t make me this much food!” I snapped. “I’m just saying! You need to watch your weight and keep healthy!” “And I’m just saying, if you don’t want me to eat this much food, don’t plate me up this much food! I just…” I lost track of myself, shaking my head and trying to brush off the moment. I pushed some more food into my mouth, staring at her as I did. “So how did you two meet?” My father asked us, moving the conversation along. “She came into my work one evening.” Harry spoke, then turned his head to me. “You looked beautiful. I was infatuated.” “I kept him on his toes.” The lie slipped from my mouth easily, too easily. “Kept him guessing.” “She made me work.” Harry grinned, joining the lie just as naturally as I had started it. “Why would you make a boy like Harry work?” My mother asked me. “I was in the palm of her hand.” Harry answered for me. “She was just… making sure I wasn’t faking anything.” “He wasn’t!” I beamed. “There’s literally nothing wrong with the boy!” That wasn’t a lie. As far as I could see, Curls was faultless. The way he was impressing my parents and making me look so good was only lifting the pedestal I had placed him atop. Suddenly, this idea that I had been classing as insane since the second it was conjured up, was the best thing I’d involved myself in for years. I turned my head to Harry, and he was already looking at me. He shot me a wink, one that made me blush in appreciation. He knew how well he was doing, and that wink just showed that. It was nice that we could do little things like that, things that meant something completely different to us than they did to onlookers. “Well it’s nice that Florence has finally brought home a nice boy.” My mother smiled sweetly. “The last one she introduced us to was a nightmare.” “He wasn’t that bad.” “He was awful, Florence.” My mother corrected me, and she was right. “He wasn’t the best.” I sighed. “You’ll have to be on your best behaviour when you meet Harry’s parents.” My mother said. “I imagine they’ll be expecting good things.” “I can’t wait for them to meet her.” Harry answered for me once again. “They’re going to love her.” “I hope so.” I huffed. The meal continued in pretty high spirits, my parents questioning Harry on his time at university and his plans for the future. Harry bounced back with the perfect answer to every single question, and occasionally my mother would catch my eye, lifting her brows as if to say, you’ve done well, don’t fuck this up. I was really hoping I wasn’t going to fuck it up. I really was. 21 “Thank you for a lovely evening.” I heard Harry speaking downstairs. “It’s been wonderful getting to know you.” “You too.” My father replied. “I’m very much looking forward to meeting Matilda tomorrow.” Curls continued. “Hopefully she’s just as lovely as Florence.” “You’ll probably fall in love with her.” My mother giggled. I rolled my eyes as I pulled on the largest t-shirt I owned, knowing it would have to suffice due to the fact I didn’t own a pair of pyjamas. I knew my mother would never say anything, because those thoughts were low, even for her. But I could tell she was wondering why the hell Harry was with me. It angered me so much, that she thought I wasn’t worthy enough for someone like him. I wasn’t good enough for him. The most ridiculous part was, I agreed. Harry was a completely different specimen. Every word was dripped with charm, every smile and every movement was almost like he’d calculated it to be hypnotizing, but you could tell he hadn’t because it just fell from him so naturally. In the real world, under circumstances that weren’t as bizarre as ours, a boy like Harry would never choose a girl like me. My mother was right. Harry appeared in my room a few minutes later, a tender smile on his face as I lifted the sheet from my bed and began to clamber beneath it, tucking myself in before he could get a glimpse of my bare legs, watching Harry with a subconscious, sympathetic glint in my eyes, hoping he would be okay. “Day one, done.” I grinned. “A complete success, I’d say.” He smirked, nearing the bed. “Do you mind if I sleep in my underwear?” “Whatever makes you comfortable.” I knew Harry was going to despise the evenings sleep, so I wanted him to be as at ease as he physically could be. He began to unbutton his shirt as I buried myself further between the covers, attempting to keep my eyes off him as he undressed… But I’m only human. My eyes kept flicking to his body as he shuffled the shirt off his arms, revealing a mangle of tattoos that I hadn’t seen before, splattering across his body in an unorderly fashion. “Excuse my ogling,” I had to say something. “But how the hell do you stay so in shape?” “Ogling me, are you?” He lifted his brows, clicking the button of his jeans open. “Flattered.” “I asked you a question.” I brushed him off, yawning as I lay so I was facing away from him. “Yoga.” “Yoga?” “Yeah, yoga.” I heard him snicker. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were middle-aged, single mother.” I chuckled at my own joke. Only moments later, I felt the bed dip as he slipped in beside me, predictably just in his underwear, but I hadn’t given myself the chance to watch him strip to that stage, it just felt a little intrusive, even when he was going to spend the evening by my side in that state. “You’re ridiculously sarcastic.” He groaned, getting comfortable beside me. “It’s one of my only good features!” “Whatever you say.” I turned again so I was looking at him, propped on my side as Harry lay on his back, one hand tucked to the back of his head as he stared towards the ceiling. “How do you think it went?” I asked quietly. “What?” “Today. The whole thing.” “I think we did alright.” He turned his head my way. “You were amazing.” I said honestly. “I did turn the charm on, didn’t I?” “You did.” I giggled. “What did you think of my mum and dad?” “I quite like your dad.” His voice was low, lovely to listen to. “Yeah, he’s harmless most of the time.” “Not quite sure how I feel about your mum.” I could tell he wasn’t her biggest fan. As wonderful as he was with her, I had seen the flickers of disapproval crease his features throughout the day. I had seen his reaction to certain comments she had made, things she had said to me. It didn’t sit well with him. “I guess you can see why I was dreading this so much.” “It’s just… Her comments seem so snide.” He remarked. “It’s almost like she doesn’t know she’s doing it.” “I don’t think she does half the time.” I sighed. “Kinda makes it worse. That’s just… how she feels about me. How she sees me. Through and through.” He nestled so he was on his side, looking me in the eye. His hair was stretching across the pillow and falling in his face, curls messy and untamed. Every inch of him looked soft to the touch, his personality seemingly similar. “I can’t say I know you that well,” He gulped. “But I think she’s got you all wrong.” All the words Harry had been saying about me that evening were for show, to make us seem like a real couple, to try and change the way my parents saw me and the lifestyle I was living in the city. It felt nice to hear him saying something in private, something that wasn’t for pretence. He said that for me, with no ulterior motive. That was simply how he felt. “Thanks.” I whispered. He shrugged, because it meant nothing to him. I imagined Harry was the type of person who threw around compliments and kindness just because he liked people to be happy. He wanted everyone to feel good about themselves, to surround themselves with every simple pleasure they could. I decided to return the favour. “Harry?” “Hm?” “I genuinely think you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” I watched his entire face change as a smile bust his lips, his lashes fluttering for a moment as he took in what I had just told him. I didn’t imagine it was the first time he’d heard those words, people must have told him all the time, or at least something similar. But I could tell he appreciated it, and I liked that. “You’re alright when you’re not being sarcastic.” He chuckled. “Thanks, I do try.” “What shall we do tomorrow?” “Dunno. Haven’t thought about it.” “It’s Christmas Eve! We have to do something.” He said. “Well, we’ll be going to the pub tomorrow evening. We always get very drunk on Christmas Eve, you’ll be glad to know.” “I am glad to know!” “But we have the day to ourselves. What were you thinking?” “Show me round your hometown.” He suggested. “It’s boring.” “I bet we can make it fun.” He smirked. “Okay.” I chuckled. “We’ll make it fun.” Naturally, I let my eyes close, the long day taking its toll as I felt sleep creeping up to me. I felt Harry shuffle again, and after a few minutes, I shot my eyes open. He was back in his original position, hand under his head, eyes open, staring up the ceiling. I watched him in silence for a few more minutes, wondering when he was going to close his eyes. It didn’t look like he was trying to nod off, in fact, it seemed like he was trying to do the exact opposite. “You okay?” I whispered. “Yeah.” “Get some sleep.” I instructed. “I… I want to wait until you’re asleep.” His voice shuddered, only slightly. “Maybe if you’re already asleep… if we’re lucky, I won’t wake you.” “I don’t mind either way!” I tried. “But I do, Ren.” He turned his head to me again. “It’s a long shot, but I just want to try. Just in case. Can we try… please?” I nodded, and closed my eyes, hating that even though we both knew it was coming, and we were getting along so well, he was still so uncomfortable and saddened by our sleeping arrangements. So worried that I was going to have to see him at his weakest. And I hoped it would work. I hoped he wouldn’t wake me, for his own sake. I hoped. 22 My eyes dozily opened to a dark room, confused as to my whereabouts at first, confused why I had woken. A whimpering sound coming from beside me reminded me where I was, and who was there with me. I stayed perfectly still as the tired state I awoke in disappeared, waiting for another noise. It happened only moments later. As my eyes became accustom to the light, I noticed a trickle of sweat bead from Harry’s neck and travel slowly down his body, dipping into the centre of his chest as his breathing became more frantic, eyes gripped shut, lips quivering. I watched it all play out in silence, absolutely fascinated. I hoped it would stay that way, just the heavy breathing and the occasional whimper. Because if it stayed that way, I could let it all pass. If he stayed in that state, I would just wait until it had ended and fall back to sleep, saving him the humiliation I knew he would feel. So I tried to ignore it as I watched him get worse, as I watched his fists grip at the sheets and his hair become damp. I tried to ignore it for as long as I could, but when the sobs got louder, I finally admitted to myself that it was only going to get worse. “Harry?” I whispered. There was a fear in my voice that I hadn’t been expecting, and it didn’t take me long to realise that I was genuinely scared. I’d never seen anything like it before in my life. His hair was beginning to stick to his forehead, his face scrunching as though he was amidst a breakdown, the muscles of his arms stretched so tightly it was like he was going to hurt himself. I couldn’t bear to see him like that. I just wanted to help him. I just really wanted to save him from his terrors. I sat myself up, looking down to his body, the sheets only reaching his hips as jolts of fear trembled his frame. “Harry, please wake up.” I whispered again. My attempts were feeble, and I think one of the reasons for that was because I knew how humiliated Harry would be if I woke him. He hadn’t wanted me to see him like this at all! Never mind to be waking him, just as panicked and scared as he was. But I couldn’t help myself. I had this need inside me to comfort him. Hesitantly, I moved my hand to his chest, placing it softly down on his skin and feeling his heart beat, alarmed by the pace. I pressed a little harder, half convinced the beat beneath my palm couldn’t be real. That’s when he screamed. He cried out into the room, low and rough, fists tightening as he shuffled. I’d never seen terror like it in my life. It was controlling his entire body just as much as it was his mind, and I needed him to wake up. I just needed him to wake up, because seeing him like that was starting to physically hurt me. “Harry!” I cried, louder that time. “Holy shit. Harry? Harry, please wake up! Please, holy fuck. Please!” I moved so I was on my knees, hovering my body over his as I clasped my hands over his cheeks, gripping to his skin and lowering my face closer to his, hating that the only reply I’d received from him was more screams, more hollow cries of fear as his body began to quiver more violently, cracking his neck backwards and puffing his chest out. “Wake up! Harry? HARRY WAKE UP!” His eyes shot open, suddenly, gasping in a swell of air as though he had been drowning. He was awake. I watched as reality began to work its magic on his body, running over him and easing every muscle that had been straining just a moment before, his eyes filling with water as he looked up to me, head still buried into the pillow. “Ren?” He mumbled, questioning my presence. The way his eyes flickered over my face suggested he still wasn’t quite sure what was real and what wasn’t. His gaze was hollow, bewildered. “I’m here!” I moved my face even closer to his, trying to smile. “You’re awake. I’m here.” I kept my voice quiet, hoping my words and my being there would soothe him, would ease him into the real world. His breathing became erratic again, but I could tell he was trying to stop it right away. I could tell he was just confused. His eyes never left mine. “Ren?” He questioned again. I nodded, taking my fingers and wiping away the sweat that had stayed on his forehead, glancing over him, still concerned about his state. The thought that he went through that, every single night, alone, was enough to make me want to share a bed with him for the rest of my life. It was enough to make me always want to be there to wake him, to look after him, to take him from his nightmares as soon as I physically could. One experience of what Harry went through every single night, summoned this existential need within me to help him get better in any way I physically could. “I was in the room again.” He trembled, his voice still broken. “I was in the blue room.” “You’re not in the blue room.” I told him. “Look at the walls. Tell me what colour you see.” His eyes darted to the side for a split-second before they bolted back to mine, gazing up to me like I was a vision, a spirit of calm and hope that he couldn’t quite comprehend. “White.” He gasped. “You’re in my room, with me, okay?” I continued. “White walls. White room. You’re okay. Tell me you’re okay.” He shook his head. “I’m scared.” His bottom lip was jutting and quaking, bright pink, swollen. Lost. “What should I do?” I asked, trying to hide the fact I so desperately wanted to cry. “Stay with me.” He instructed. “Please stay.” “Okay.” We remained that way for a while. I kept my face close to his, holding his eye contact with as much confidence as he always held mine, because I knew in that moment that I was Harry’s remedy. I was his confirmation that he was awake, that he was okay. I kept my knees bent beside his body, my back beginning to ache thanks to the position, but I didn’t care. I needed to be there for him. I watched as the mist that had clouded his eyes faded, and green returned. I had never realised how extraordinary his eyes were until that very moment. Every flick and burst of his life seemed to be held within the whirling emerald colour. Each beautiful characteristic he possessed bursting brightly as though desperate to reach further than his eyes allowed them. His eyes were as kind as his soul. We could have stayed in that position for hours and I’d have been none the wiser, but eventually, once his heart was beating at a regular pace, once his bottom lip was back to the regular plumpness I recalled, he spoke. “You have some gold, in your eyes.” His voice was so quiet it hurt. “I do?” “The petals of the sunflower.” He had been concentrating on each different stroke of my eyes in the same way I had his. In that moment, I knew having me there had calmed him. I hadn’t been expecting that, and neither had he. Harry had thought having someone there, witnessing his one weakness, would be humiliating, excruciating. And maybe on some level, it was. But in other ways, having a presence there with him, someone to calm him down and remind him where he was, had helped. “Will you have another?” I swallowed, hard. “No.” He shook his head. “It’s usually just the one.” “Are you tired?” “No.” “Do you need me to do anything?” “I need you to get some sleep.” “But-” “Ren, sleep!” He instructed. “Please sleep.” I could tell he wasn’t putting on a front. It wasn’t like he was asking me to sleep, but silently praying I would stay awake and comfort him some more. He was okay. Even if it was just for the evening, he was okay. I nodded, finally moving so I was snuggled next to him once more, gazing across as he gave out a large sigh, still wrapping his mind around what had just happened, how the entire experience had differed just having someone there. I watched as he placed his hand over his heart and closed his eyes, relaxing at the thought of now being able to get a little sleep. I couldn’t drag my eyes from him. “Thank you.” He mumbled quietly. “For making that easier.” “I wish there’s more I could-” “No.” He cut me short. “You were perfect.” I didn’t know how I’d done it, how I’d managed to keep my cool, to act in a way that didn’t end up embarrassing him or making the situation worse than it already was. Apparently, I’d been perfect. And that was all the information I needed to peacefully drift back to sleep.

[looselucy]

LUCY OH MY GOD IM ONLY ON TFA8 AND I READ A SPOILER AND AHHHH IM IN DISTRESS

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN??? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I HATE SPOILERS I’M SO SORRY!!! I SWEAR I HAVEN’T EVEN ANSWERED ANYTHING RECENTLY WITH A SPOILER?? HAVE I??? FUCK I’M SO SORRY THIS MAKES ME SO SAD :(