#bb49 replacement

Still dressed in black, I lay on top of Zayn’s bed on my side, his body mirroring mine as we lay in silence, wallowing in our desperate sorrow. “Just makes me sad.” He gulped. “It all feels… really rushed. I was still in the hospital this time last week. It just… it feels so rushed. Like you need to rush through the grieving process and… try and get back to normal in a week. It… It’s horrible.” Harry had driven us to Mike’s home town for the funeral that morning, Zayn sat in the back and trying hide the fact that he was clearly terrified about being in the car. If he was the only one in the accident, I knew things would be different. If it was just him who got hurt, broken bones and all, he wouldn’t be fazed by getting back into a car. But things weren’t as simple as that. He wasn’t alone in the car, and it changed everything. One person in one place at the wrong time. Thoughts played out in my mind so often. Not just the obvious ones, like cursing the black-ice they’d hit and wishing they’d never gone out for a drive in the first place, but more just about how one person being in one place can change everything. Mike had decided to see his friend Zayn and to go for a drive, and now a sturdy brick wall had been left broken and crumbled. Mike had been feeling down, and now someone who used to call herself a mother, felt like she couldn’t anymore. Mike had told Zayn not to worry about the weather, and now his bedsheets had remained cold and untouched since, still thrown back, just as he had left them that morning. Mike wanted to spend time with his friend, and now Zayn was scared to get in a car. One person. One place. So many changes, both big and small. We were still trying to grasp at the fact he wasn’t with us anymore. “I used to believe in fate.” Zayn whispered, wincing as he grabbed his sore side. “Not anymore. Because… there’s no way in hell, that Mike deserved that.” I recalled how sad I had been when I realised I wouldn’t be living with Mike in our second year, how I couldn’t imagine not always having him there, being happy, telling stories, kissing my cheek when I offered to make brews. That thought in itself had been hard to swallow. Now I knew it was something I’d never have again, and it was killing me. “I just can’t believe it.” My words were getting caught in my throat as an onslaught of tears doomed me. “Did… Did you see the look on Graces face?” I hid my head in his pillow and burst into tears, drooling, almost screaming, a physical pain attacking me and weakening me. I had never felt a pain like that. I had never known that my body could ache in ways that seemed so physical that I expected there to be blood and scars and scratches all over my body. And Zayn was right, Mike Jones had put nothing but positivity into the world. He was gentle, kind, sweet, humble, funny, innocent and pure. Mike was intensely beautiful, his soul was refreshing, and I had been blessed to know him. Fate couldn’t be real, because there was absolutely no upside to this. No possible good outcome or repercussion. I didn’t imagine any kind of power would be so cruel as to take him. I was also overwhelmed by the feelings I had on Zayn’s behalf. A few nights earlier, we’d had a screaming match; fully shouting at one another. He had been talking about how guilty he felt, how it was all his fault, and I’d flipped. I’d never yelled at someone so much in my life, and I knew he was hurting, probably more than any of us, but I just couldn’t hold it in. I’d just repeated how stupid he was, how idiotic he was being, how it wasn’t his fault and everyone knew it wasn’t his fault and he needed to start dealing with it differently, because there wasn’t a chance I was going to let him carry that on his shoulders. I wouldn’t let him, and maybe yelling at him wasn’t the best way to go about it, but our feelings were scattered and amplified after losing Mike, and we all knew something like that was going to happen. I had nothing but good intentions, but we were all hurting so much, and we had no idea how to handle it. I just wanted to make sure that Zayn was never burdened with guilt over what had happened. It hurt enough already, he didn’t need any more agony. I didn’t know what it would take to change the way he viewed the accident, I wasn’t sure it was actually something I could alter, but I was willing to try anything. “She couldn’t even speak.” Zayn began crying too. “I asked her if she was okay, and… and she couldn’t even fucking speak… Fuck.” I wanted to move and hold him, both of us just sobbing together but not touching, but every unnecessary move hurt him thanks to his injuries. He needed to be stationary as much as he physically could, and it felt like such a kick in the teeth, because he’d never needed that kind of contact more in his life, and yet that was the kind of thing that hurt him. Everything was just so erroneous. Of course it was more apparent and consuming on the day of his funeral, but that didn’t make it any easier. As we lay crying together, I couldn’t picture myself ever feeling better. I couldn’t comprehend the thought that a day would arrive where I wouldn’t need to cry like that. I couldn’t see myself ever being okay. Because that scared me enough in itself, the thought that something that was breaking me would one day just be the memory of a boy I had known and loved, a fleeting thought on the anniversary of his death or on his birthday. It terrified me, the thought that something can change you and leave fragments of your former self shattered on the floor, and yet you always find a way to deal with it, you just move on with your life. That kind of strength and resilience, that core power that was held in the human race, was frightening to me just as much as it was impressive. Our tears calmed after a while, the two of us having splitting headaches from the amount we’d cried throughout the day, and we calmed again, Zayn having to really concentrate on his breathing so he didn’t cause any more pain. “I love you.” My breathing was heavy. “I hope you know.” “Of course I know.” He huffed sadly. “But it’s nice to hear it. It’s always nice to hear it.” I had just wanted him to know, and he had just wanted to hear it. There was a quiet knock on his bedroom door just seconds before Harry let himself in, face low, but attempting a smile. “Your mums here, Zayn.” I could see the mix of emotions on Zayn’s face, how excited he was that his mother had arrived and he was going home for a few days, but petrified about the journey back. He just nodded, preparing himself by just shutting off his throat as much as he could, before he moved upright to get off the bed, pain deflating his already exhausted exterior as he got to his feet. Harry grabbed Zayn’s bag for him to save him the trouble, and I followed the two of them downstairs, aiding Zayn as he took each step slowly, holding his hand, trying to ignore how his frustration that the simplest tasks were now just painful and difficult. Anguish emitted from his every move. Zayn’s mother was different. The first time we’d met her, she was so upbeat, so cheerful and carefree. When she’d arrived at the hospital the week before, and seeing her then, she seemed like a different woman. She could barely smile. She didn’t say a word. Harry passed her Zayn’s bag, the exchange silent and uneasy. A natural part of me wanted to say get home safe, but it felt almost forbidden. It felt like it was stir something in all of us. It was too soon, it was too hurtful. “We’ll see you soon.” I choked. He needed some time away, to be with his family and to escape university. He really needed some space to breathe, to distance himself and come to terms with everything. With a shy little wave, Zayn left our home, his mother shutting the door behind them as I stood on the bottom step, my heart in my throat as I watched him go. Though we were all in pain, we felt even worse for Zayn. Harry came to me, both the same height since I was slightly lifted from the floor, and we wrapped our arms around one another. He nestled his face into my hair, our breathing calming as we embraced. I’d never known anything like that, where just being held by someone could help you forget your pain, even if it was just for a moment. Because having Harry’s arms wrapped around me was my remedy, the only cure I had found. Amidst all the chaos in my mind, he somehow created a calm, one that wrapped around me, hypnotized me, created a heat deep within my chest that made me feel as though my heart was expanding, growing and reshaping because it simply wasn’t big enough in its original state to handle the love I felt for him. “Are you okay?” He asked. “Umm… yeah… I’m… Yeah. Are you?” I asked, pulling out of the hug and caressing his face. “I want to go home.” He said firmly. “I think I just… want to be at home, for a few days. I feel really tired. I’m exhausted. Think I need to spend some time with my dad’s.” I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat as I continued to rub my thumb under his eye, noticing the way his green gems traced over me as though he was just waiting for me to burst into tears again. “Okay.” I breathed. “You should. I think you’ll be more relaxed there. I think it’ll be good for you.” “Will you come with me?” He asked, lightly kissing my bottom lip. “I don’t want to be in the way.” “I don’t want to go without you. Please come with me. Ben and Kev really want to see you, too. I know they’d love it if you stayed again.” Being with Harry’s parents had been amazing the first time round, so the thought of repeating that but being even more comfortable the second time around, was something I couldn’t say no to. We were both in need of that home comfort, too. Ben and Kev did everything for Harry, and there was no denying we wanted to make the most of that. Because everything was so tiring, even the simple things like having someone else cooking for us, was something we kind of felt we needed. “I’d love to come with you.” I smiled. “Good. All I need to do is pack a bag, so we’ll go when you’re ready, alright?” “I’ll just sort a bag now and we can go.” “You sure?” He worried. “Don’t rush yourself, or anything.” Harry was very sweet with me. He had been very sweet with me for a long time, but over the past week, for understandable reasons, he was even sweeter. I didn’t even think it was a conscious effort he was making, he just had this need within him to make sure every other part of my life, other than the obvious, was going well, and I couldn’t physically find anything else that would upset me. I kissed him again, drawn out, trying to portray how much I loved him just through my touch. “I’m sure.” I whispered. “I’ll go pack.” + + + I wondered how long it would last, people looking at me and my friends like we were damaged. Kev swung the door open to me and Harry with that look on his face, the look we had seen countless times that week. That look that read, I don’t know what to say, I don’t how to explain my empathy, I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I feel for you… I just don’t know. “C’mere.” He ushered to his son. Harry took the step and the two held each other tight, slapping themselves around one another. I saw Kev grip his eyes shut, nestled into Harry’s shoulder. I realised then, that being back at Harry’s place wasn’t merely for us. Kev had needed to see Harry, he had needed to hold him like that. Because it doesn’t really matter how old you get, I don’t think, nothing reminds you that everything is going to be okay in the same way as having a family members arms wrapped around you does. It’s a beautiful reminder that someone is there for you, and always will be. It was little facts like that which had made me long for a family my entire life. The thought that one day, I would wrap my arms around my child and they would have this overwhelming feeling that everything was going to be alright, was enough to keep me going through anything. “You okay?” He whispered, grabbing the back of Harry’s neck when they’d parted. “I’m a little shook up.” Harry gulped. “I know. I bet.” “Where’s dad?” “He got a bit upset. Think he needs some time to calm down before he sees you.” “I thought he might.” “Pippa.” Kev turned to me, opening his arms. “It’s good to see you.” I closed the gap and held him, smothered in his large, muscular frame, gripping my eyes shut and forcing myself not to cry again. It was too tiring, and I so, so wanted to be strong. One of the reasons for that, was the thought of what Mike would say if he saw that I had been crying so much. He would just laugh at me. He would tell me to pull myself together, to stop being so upset about it and to just get the hell over it. I could hear his voice in my head, so clearly. C’mon, do you really want to give Harry the satisfaction of knowing the name Pip-Squeak really was fitting to you this whole time? I could almost hear him laughing at me, and if I couldn’t stay strong for myself or for my friends, I would definitely stay strong for him. “Good to see you too.” I replied, relatively strong. “Come in. It’s freezing.” He stepped aside and welcomed us. A drum of heat rushed over me as soon as we were inside, partly because we were indoors, but mainly because it felt so wonderfully familiar and homely to me. I’d only spent a week there, but with every memory I had made in those walls and around them, it could have been a lifetime. As we wandered down the hall to the kitchen, I glanced into the living room, remembering watching Harry there falling asleep on the sofa. Once we were in the kitchen, I recalled the mornings we had spent in there, eating breakfast and noticing the way my stomach altered slightly when Harry’s arm brushed mine. I looked out into the garden, picturing the small trickle of water in the woodland out back where Harry had sat the morning after our first kiss, staring at the water as though it would give him some answers to the flurry of questions that had drowned him since I entered his life. I loved his home. I loved how I felt when I was there and I loved what being there had done for us. It was strange, how being there automatically made me feel better. “So tell me now.” Kev said, flicking the kettle on. “Do you want to talk about it, or not?” Harry looked to me, waiting to see how I felt. I didn’t want to talk about it. It felt like all we’d done was talk about it, wallow in it. We’d been to his funeral that day, seen the heartache on his families faces, and I couldn’t do it anymore. Maybe that was why funerals tend to happen within the first week or two. Maybe it is best to rush the process, to try and go back to your regular life as soon as you can. It seemed so unhealthy, already, the way we were bathing in the pain. We did need to start healing, even though the scar was so large. We really did need that. I sharply shook my head. “No.” Harry replied to Kev. “Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.” “Okay.” He nodded. “I’ll start by congratulating you, Pippa.” “Me?” I gawped. “On getting back into photography, and with the competition. That’s excellent, well done.” “Oh.” I blushed. “Thank you.” Of course, the congratulations were nice enough all on their own, but I was also blushing over the fact that Harry actually spoke to his parents about me, told them about me and what was going on in my life. It made me smile even more knowing that he had previously spoken so negatively about me to Ben and Kev. I wondered if they had slowly seen his love grow with every single time he mentioned me, I wondered if they had spoken about something maybe happening between us as his words got fonder and fonder. The kettle clicked as Kev moved to a cupboard and got out four mugs, predicting Ben would join us soon. “How is the photography going?” He asked. “Umm, well, I missed this week’s lesson but, obviously my teacher understood why. Other than that, I think it’s going pretty well, I think. I hope. Thank you for having me again, by the way.” “Pleasure.” He nodded. “Been excited to have you back ever since Harry mentioned you’re finally an item.” I glanced up to Harry, seeing his eyes squint, and I was laughing already, because I was just waiting for him to say something. “Please don’t embarrass me.” He groaned. “Would I ever?” “Yes.” “He rang us pretty much straight away.” Kev turned to me, and I laughed harder. “Told us he’d broken up with Minnie. And we’re like, oh okay, why? But we knew why.” “You knew?” I cried. “Bloody hell. I didn’t!” “More fool you.” He chuckled. “We’d been waiting for that bomb to drop since you came to stay with us in February.” “You better stop right now.” Harry scalded. “Once over the summer-” “I’M BEING SERIOUS, DON’T!” “-he got back from a night out, absolutely wasted, woke us up-” “I swear to god, dad, shut up.” “-and started making a complete racket. So we went downstairs, saw him tearing the kitchen apart, and we asked him what he was doing.” “I hate you.” Harry tutted. “And he told us, that he was looking for the picture you had taken when you were last here, the one we printed for you. Said he wanted to feel close to you. Said he wanted to see the universe.” Harry looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, obviously not really fond of the story that Kev was telling. I however, loved the story. I couldn’t hear the story enough. I was literally hoping he would repeat the story again just seconds after he had told me. It just felt so nice, thinking back to those summer months when I had craved and missed him, wondering how he saw me, wondering how he felt and if he liked me in the way I liked him. He did. He was so obvious about it that his parents knew. It was just so nice to hear that from someone other than Harry, to just hear the proof of it. I honestly just wanted to hear story after story, even if it was just tiny things that he’d done that hinted towards his affections, I wanted to know it all. “You’re a bastard.” Harry groaned. “That never happened.” “It did, Harry. Deny it all you want, but it happened.” “What a loser.” I scoffed sarcastically. “Absolutely pathetic.” He came up behind me, locking one arm around my neck and using his other hand to slap over my mouth and shut me up as I squirmed and pretended I wanted to escape his hold. I didn’t want to escape his hold. Not then. Not ever. + + + Once Ben had finally plucked up the strength so socialise, all it had taken was one look at me and Harry and he’d broken down again, sobbing into his hands. I’d decided to give them a little time to talk. To just sit down as a family, to talk and discuss and try coming to terms with things. Because the two of them had never met Mike, but they knew how much he meant to Harry, they knew how much this would be affecting him and it was something they hadn’t been able to discuss quite yet. So I’d gone up to Harry’s room to give them their alone time, knowing that they would all feel much better at the end of it, and I was glad it was happening. I sat with my legs crossed on the top of Harry’s bed, flicking through some recent photos I had taken on the camera that Harry had gifted me, something completely mundane playing on the TV that was attached to his wall. It was really nice to be back in his room. It was dark, the rain that had been persistent all day was now merely tapping away at the window in a kind manner, the lamp dull and orange as it gave as much light to the room as it could. I just felt so comfortable there, I could have been at my own home. My phone lit up down at my side, vibrating gently on top of the white sheets, Louis’ name on the screen. My mood lowered, because I knew he was going to talk about Mike. Ever since the festival, Mike and Louis had gotten really close. I hadn’t often seen one without the other. They had bonded very quickly. That day, at his funeral, Louis hadn’t been in a good way. I figured he was ready to talk. “Hey.” I spoke gently as I answered, but he didn’t say a thing. “How are you?” “I started a book.” He coughed. That wasn’t exactly the conversation starter I had been expecting, but I was glad of it. He seemed tired, his voice low and mellow, everything unrushed, but he wasn’t crying and that was something I was truly happy to hear. “Right.” I baffled. “What kind of book?” “The book we always said we’d write.” He spoke. “I just… I wanted there to be more to it before I told anyone, but things… things changed, didn’t they?” “What book?” I asked, shutting off the camera. “The book of Mike quotes.” I think my heart stopped beating, for a second. We’d mentioned it as a joke so many times, and I had genuinely considered it myself, but Louis had actually taken the plunge and he hadn’t told anyone about it. I knew his original plan wasn’t to reveal it like this, maybe he would give it to Mike for his 20th birthday, maybe he wanted to surprise all of us with the book at the end of university, when there were more quotes in there, more stories, more anecdotes, but he was right. Things really had changed. “You started it?” I gasped. “Yeah. I was just looking through it. Wanna hear my favourites?” “Yeah.” I choked, tears in my eyes but a smile on my face. “Okay, I loved this one. So I said to him, truth be told mate, I haven’t once ever said that I would have sex with a zebra, but if there was one in front of me and if I’d been drinking wine all day, I’d be open to suggestions.” I was laughing, really laughing down the phone, and it felt so good. It felt incredible to finally be laughing about something to do with Mike, rather than crying. I could hear his voice, floating through the air in my vicinity, making me close my eyes and take note of the fact that in a way, he would always be there. I’d always remember him, I’d always remember his stories and his kindness and the love that sheltered every single action and move he ever made. Mike wasn’t the type of person who would fade, who would be forgotten. That type of kindness, that type of sincerity, wasn’t something that could disappear. “Incredible.” I huffed. “Another, from the festival,” He continued, and I could hear the smile on his face. “So then I was like, mate, if you want to buy a puppy, go ahead, but I will never, ever, eat spinach with you.” “More.” I laughed. “Give me another.” “Okay, give me a second.” I could hear him flicking through pages. “Oh, this one is great. I once had sex with a girl who was allergic to peanuts, which was weird, because I’d eaten a bag of peanuts the day before. I hope she didn’t die.” The first tear dropped from my eye, but I was still laughing, still hearing his voice and lapping up every word Louis was uttering down the phone. I had a bunch of feelings that were caught in my heart at that moment, sadness, longing, happiness, joy, pining, but the feeling overall wasn’t a negative one. It wasn’t something I had felt before, it was completely foreign to me, but it was okay. It was… It was quite nice. “Wanna know my favourite?” He gulped, voice dropping. “Yeah.” “So I said to her, life isn’t about how many cans of beer you have in your fridge, young lady, it’s about the energy you put out into the world, it’s about the love you can inject into people’s hearts and the lives you touch.” I wiped away the one tear that had fallen, and surrounded myself in his words for just a few moments. Because if that was how Mike felt, he had done exactly that. It was horrible, that he wasn’t granted more years to continue emitting that kind of joy into the world, but he had done what he wanted in the little time he had, and that was beautiful. Then, Louis finished his quote. “So I took her last beer and told her to stop whining. Hate that bitch.” That was the perfect end to a perfect quote, because as lovely as it was, it wasn’t quite Mike without that last bit. I shook my head, grinning down to the way my fingers were messing with the bedsheets, stuck for something to say because I was little bit in awe of the boy I’d never see again, in awe of everything about him. “You okay?” I asked after a long silence. “Yeah, I will be. Are you?” “Will be. Give me time.” “That’s all I wanted to say, really.” He sighed. “Just wanted to let you know about the book.” “I have some notes saved in my phone, of things he said. We’ll get together.” “Good idea. Love you, Pippa.” “Love you too, get some sleep.” “Will do. Night.” “G’night.” I hung up, and stared at my phone for a few minutes, just staring at it in my hand. Suddenly, I was thinking of everyone else. I just hoped that all my friends would get through this and they would all be okay. Funerals, as sad as they are, are often a very cleansing process. It seemed to be helping everyone. We’d finally had a day where we could reflect on what had happened and how wonderful Mike was, rather than just being sad about it. I really just wanted everyone to be okay. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but in that moment, that was my only desire. I moved off his bed, leaving my phone there and sulking off into Harry’s en-suite bathroom, pulling my hair into a bobble and grabbing a makeup wipe. It can’t have been that late, but I was so worn out, all I wanted to do was sleep. The sound of Harry finally coming into his bedroom, and closing the door behind himself, was an extremely welcoming one. “Pip?” “In here!” I called. He came and stood in the doorway, watching me remove my makeup in silence, leaning against the frame as his eyes just travelled me. I think he liked seeing me like that, for some reason, looking like pure shit as I took off my eyeliner and foundation, revealing my natural blotchy skin to him. I don’t know why he liked it, but he did. “I’m knackered.” He exhaled. “Me too. How was your chat?” “It was… y’know. It is what it is. Ben cried, a lot. But I think we all feel a bit better.” He left the doorway, and went to clamber onto his bed. A thought itched in my head, one that had been there previously, but never more than it had in the past week. It was something that had been bothering me for a quite a while, and I knew something finally needed to be said about it. I walked back into his room, grabbing the remote and turning the TV off and staring at him, still stood as he lay flat on his bed, gazing back to me, a questioning look in his eyes, like he was just waiting for me to say something. I moved gently onto the bed, laying my body against his side, leaning so I could look down to him, stroking the back of my fingers against his cheek. I gulped, seeing him take me in, silently looking to my face with such a beautiful innocence. I didn’t even know where to begin. I didn’t know what to say. But I had to try. “I’ve lived with you for over a year now.” I began, being as soft as I possibly could. “We’ve talked about a lot of things, we’ve been through a lot of things. We’ve spoke about your mum, we’ve spoke about the way you were bullied when you were younger. We’ve been through so much, and today we went to one of our best friend’s funerals. And… and I still haven’t seen you cry, Harry. I haven’t even seen you close.” He looked up to me, with an almost worried expression. I’d thought about it before, how strange it was that I’d never seen him cry, but for the past week I’d just been waiting for it. He’d lost someone, a good friend, someone he lived with, and then on top of that, he’d seen the way it had broken everyone around him. So many important people in his life had been shattered for a week, and I’d still not seen him cry. I had just been waiting for something to break him, something to tip him over the edge, but nothing ever came. He had remained calm and collected throughout everything, and it made me feel so uncomfortable. It just didn’t seem right to me. I knew I was hardly one to talk, because of the amount I cried, but I knew that day that I wasn’t the only person who was thinking and pondering over Harry’s lack of tears. We had sat there, watching Mikes coffin being carried by weeping family members, every single one of us in pieces, apart from Harry. That wasn’t something I could ignore. He looked shaken, like he had no idea what to say to me. My touch intensified as I gripped his cheek with my palm, stroking my thumb down his jaw. “I think this is something to do with how you need power.” I continued. “And maybe you think crying makes you weak. It doesn’t, Harry. The only thing that’s making you weak right now, is that fact you haven’t cried.” His chest was heaving, but his eyes didn’t leave mine for a second. He was getting worked up, but I didn’t know if he was angry or what he was feeling, but something was happening that I couldn’t quite comprehend. He didn’t speak. I sat and waited for him to say something, but nothing came. He just looked up to me, his eyes glistening as they went over every single feature on my face. I’m not even sure he blinked. “Please.” I whispered. “You’re here, with me. You need this. I know you need this. You know you need this. Please, Harry… Please.” Silence. He reached a hand, and returned my gesture, clutching my right cheek in his palm, and I could feel his hand shaking as he gazed to me, still not blinking. But I think he realised that he was safe with me, he realised he didn’t need to protect himself and keep his walls up because it was me. I watched as his bottom lip began to shake, the way his eyes began to shine and his nose crinkled. And he began to cry. His pain pressed out of his mouth, and he hid his eyes automatically, sobbing loudly as his whole body seemed to cave in on itself. I moved my arm around his neck and within seconds, he wrapped around me too, laying us both on our side as he cried into my neck uncontrollably, both arms clasped around my back as he shuddered. I’d never been so happy to see someone I love crying so deeply. He held onto my tightly, his snare so constricted I was close to being in pain, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t sure what Harry would be like if he didn’t have that release, what could happen to him over time if he didn’t let himself cry like that when he really needed it. I wondered how long it had been, how many years had passed without Harry letting a single tear slip from his gorgeous eyes. “I’m sorry.” He wept, his voice in tatters. “I don’t know how to do this. I’m so sorry.” “Don’t be sorry.” I hushed, stroking through his curls. “I’m in so much pain, Pip.” He howled. “I-I don’t know how to deal with this.” None of us did; this wasn’t something any of us were familiar with, but I knew that Harry literally had no idea where to start, no idea how to conquer this kind of pain. I knew crying would help him. Maybe he couldn’t see that in those moments where his tears were still warm and constant and crashing against the skin of my neck, when his throat was so strained and blocked by his sorrow, but I knew this eventually would be something that would help him to heal. I didn’t cry, I just held him, I let it be his time. I ran my finger up and down the back of his neck, my other hand in his curls, remaining as calm as I physically could as he finally began to let go of his pain. I had to wonder what those tears represented, how many of them weren’t just for Mike, but everything else he had been holding in. The tears were uncontrollable, for a very long time, and not once did he reveal his face to me. He stayed tucked up into my neck, protected, safe. “It’s okay.” I whispered to him, kissing his head. “I’m here.” “I love you.” He blubbered. “I’m so sorry I’m like this. I don’t… I don’t know why I… I’m so sorry I can’t be strong. I’m sorry.” “Please stop saying you’re sorry.” My fist clenched loose in his curls. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He knew he didn’t have anything to be sorry for, deep down he knew that, but he was lost. He was only in the beginning stages of finding himself, and I was so glad I was there doing it with him, helping him discover a side of himself he hadn’t been familiar with for years. He remained nestled in my neck until he was calm. Even when his tears had halted, he stayed against me until his breathing was regular, leaving a few chaste kisses against my neck before he pulled away, the tip of his nose red, both his eyes and lips puffy and swollen. I played my fingers against his bottom lip and looked into his eyes, that lost look still on his face, just as it had been before the tears. I think he was in shock. “You can’t be scared to do that, Harry.” I whispered, kissing the tip of my nose against his. “But… I think am scared.” He whispered. “Of what?” “I’m scared you… think I’m emotionless.” He sniffled. “I-I’m not! I’m not, Pippa. I promise. Please just… I don’t… I don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like I lost touch, at some point. When I grew up, after my mum and after everything when I was younger… I lost touch. I decided it was easier not to have feelings and… That’s one of the reasons I was with Minnie, y’know? I wasn’t really attached to her. But meeting you, and being at uni… I’ve let my walls down. I’ve let myself… feel things again. And this week, I’ve been so mad at myself, for… letting myself get so attached to everyone and I was angry. But… I don’t want to be like that anymore. I don’t want to be scared anymore.” It did explain a lot, him saying that to me. Maybe it wasn’t just the way I saw things. Maybe Harry wasn’t such a nice boy when he first moved into our halls.  Over the past year, he’d softened, he’d started letting people back into his life and letting himself love people again, with no limits, with no guards. Harry had avoided a relationship with me because he was scared. He’d been in a relationship with a girl he didn’t really like, because he was scared. So many choices in his life had been fuelled by fear, and he was desperate to change, he just didn’t know how. “Okay.” I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. “But I’m not emotionless, I promise. I’m just… I’m learning. Please… please give me the chance to learn.” “I’ll be here. I’ll help you.” “You promise?” He cooed hopefully. “I promise.” “Are you mad at me?” “No.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I just want to help you see that loving people doesn’t make you weak. Crying doesn’t either. But I know you’re not emotionless, Harry. I’ve seen the very best in you, and I have done for months. Nothing’s changing that.” He nodded, visibly comforted by my words. I came to terms with that fact Harry had always, in a way, been pushing people away. Anything he didn’t like, he’d fight. He always said that families were fucked up even though he had such a beautiful example of one. The only real friend he had at home was Niall, a boy he had known for years. Even to that day, though I knew he loved me, he hadn’t asked me to be his girlfriend. Everything about him was just adding up and making sense, though he had improved such an incredible amount, and he had let people past his barriers, it was still making sense. He had been rude this time last year, he had been obnoxious and arrogant, because he wanted to make sure he could keep people at a healthy distance. Subconsciously, that had changed, and I was almost sure I was one of the main reasons for that. “I love you.” He hushed, his eyes drooping shut. “And… I hope you know that… I’m thankful that… I have you. Thank you for being here for me. Just… I’m sorry. I wanna keep it this way. I don’t wanna lose you. Ever.” I kissed at his lips tenderly, feeling him pucker and return the gesture as much as he physically could as exhaustion took over him and finally began to drag him under. We stayed on top of the sheets and I lay my head on his chest, resting my hand over his t-shirt where his tattoo was, closing my eyes, noticing how his breathing calmed and calmed until I knew he was asleep, and that’s when I decided to reply. “I love you too.” I whispered, though I knew he couldn’t hear. “And I’m not going anywhere.”