98

Amelia Adams

"Are you almost done that book Amelia?" Harry's deep voice beckons from his office.

I follow his voice into his office and see him standing with his muscled bare back to me, looking up at the chalkboard with scribbles all over it.

"Catcher in the Rye? Almost." I lean against the doorway and cross my arms, wearing one of his shirts.

"Well you might want to hurry it up because you'll probably want to read the one that's on my desk." He says while keeping his back to me and dragging the chalk across the board.

I arch my brow in curiosity and tread my bare feet over to his dark wooded desk, looking for the book.

I actually gasp when I see it, the familiar paperback book sits on his desk- brand new and untouched. I grab the small novel to my fingers gently and confirm my thoughts that it's what I think it is.

A Walk to Remember. My favourite book that I've read countless times in my life. He someone got a copy and now it sits in my hands again.

"Harry oh my god!" I can't help but exclaim in excitement. I'm not kidding when I told him this is my all time favourite book. I would read it on my way home from school, I'd read it at school, when I went to bed- anywhere. I'd read it anywhere.

He looks back over his shoulder and smirks at me and my dumbfounded expression. He puts the textbook down on the table and takes off his black rimmed glasses.

"How did you find this!" I ask while still examining the book.

"It took me a while- I've been looking for a copy since you told me about it." He chuckles and walks his shirtless body over to me.

I can't get rid of the burning smile on my face. The second he steps in front of me, my arms flail around his shoulders in am embrace, still keeping the book clenched in my right hand.

"Harry- thank you." I smile while he hugs me back, letting the satisfying smell of his cologne trace along his soft skin.

"Don't worry about it." His hand runs in circles on my back before we separate.

"You should read it." I suggest while holding it out.

He purses his lips together and arches his brow at my words. His eyes look down at the paperback novel and retrieving it in his hands.

"Mm it's not really my type of genre." He contemplates while lacing his emerald eyes down the cover and the back description.

"I still think you should give it a chance. You'll probably finish it before I finish Catching in the Rye." I chuckle while running my hands up his forearms.

"Alright, I'll read it tonight and see if I like it." He says while placing the book on the desk behind me and turning back to his giant chalkboard.

He stretches his arms up and places his hands on the back of his head- making his shoulder muscles pop. I scan my eyes down his jagged body and bite my lip slightly. His back indents and his spin and leads all the way down to the dimples at his waist. He ruffles the back of his curly hair, making me see the tattoo on the back of his neck for a quick second.

The angel wings. I forgot about those. I was always meaning to ask him why it was there, specifically on the back of his neck. I never did because I was always nervous of overstepping my boundaries with him.

Harry's hands fall back to his sides and he picks up his glasses again and placing them on his face.

"Harry." I mumble as he picks up the chalk and textbook, scribbling things I'll never understand on the chalkboard.

"Yes babe." He answers with his soothing tone, keeping his eyes glued to the chalkboard.

"What's the angel wings on the back of you neck for?" I ask timidly.

He freezes his entire body, keeping the tip of the chalk pressed against the blackboard. The room goes silent and I don't know whether he's going to freak out or not. My heartbeat picks up drastically in anticipation. I really don't want him to get mad at me for asking a simple question like he's done in the past.

"If you don't want to tell me then its fine. I was just curious." I add, hoping to simmer anything that could potentially make his blood boil.

If I've learned one thing about Harry its that he doesn't do well under pressure when I ask him about personal stuff.

"I..I got it when my sister died." He murmurs while placing the chalk back down and shutting his textbook yet again. He turns around to face me and takes off his glasses.

"Oh," I begin as I analyze his calm features. "Were you close?" I ask while sitting up on the side of his desk. I remember him drunkenly telling me she committed suicide, also he admitted that she never spoke a word.

"She was hypothetically attached to my hip until I got sent off to juvy." He says while slowly walking over to me.

"Then what did she do when you left?" I grip my hands on the edge of the dark wooden desk.

He walks his tall body over to my direction, placing his hands on the desk and leaning forward to meet eye level with me.

"She was alone, she had no one. I abandoned her for years in that cold cruel place of a foster house. I spent my night praying to a god I didn't even believe- hoping she'd get adopted and have a nice home." He explains while burning his green eyes millimetres in front of mine.

"How old were you when.. you know." My voice trails out near the end, implying a touchy question.

"I was eighteen. I found her in a bathtub with a bottle of pills she had taken." He looks at me, almost forcing out the words. I inhale sharply at the thought of what he went through finding her.

"That's awful Harry." I say sympathetically while running my hand back through his hair.

He forms his soft lips to a line and nods slowly. The bruises stay prominent under his eyes and up the sides of his nose as he looks at me in a way that makes me feel like I've known him for a lifetime. I no longer look at this face and think of anger and demonic thoughts- I look at him and I see.. compassion and warmth.

I see him in a whole new light now- a light that only flicks on for me to see.

"She deserves so much more in life- she really did." He clears his throat mid sentence.

"I'm sure she did," I immediately agree, even though I never knew her. "She never left you anything? A note?" I whisper while running my fingers back through his hair again- hoping he stays relaxed and doesn't get too overwhelmed.

"Um.." He hesitantly begins, clearing his throat. "No, no she left me nothing." His fragile voice whispers while looking down at the ground for a quick second.

"Hey," I mumble while tilting his chin back up to face me. He doesn't look like he's going to cry or anything but I can definitely tell this is a hard topic for him. He probably feels like it's his fault because he got himself in jail and left her alone for all the time.

I lean in and press my lips to his, lightly leaving my hand on his cheek. His eyes shut with mine and he keeps our parted lips pressed together, not rushing any need to pull away.

"I've made so many bad choices in my life, but the only one I regret is not being a better brother to her. I was all she had." He mumbles while pulling our lips apart.

"You can't say that Harry, you tried to keep her safe." I interject.

"No, I didn't try hard enough. I was a coke head who focused constantly on what was going to give me my next high. I spent my days deciding where I was going to possible get enough money for my next line and what bitch I was going to fuck during it. I was a teenage scumbag that just cared about climbing up on to a lifeline to silence the demons in my head that I didn't even realize my sister was the one drowning all along. She was the one suffering the most- dealing with her own demons. And I was never there for her Amelia. I never got it through the thick fucking skull that she was withering away into nothing as I was going out everyday for artificial substances that I thought could mask the pain in my body. I was a horrible bother, and once I realized it.. I was too late." He spills out, wrapping me in his pained words that hold so much history.

I sit silently for a moment, flickering my eyes back and forth between his broken emerald ones. I can't believe some people grow up like this- abandoned and hurt. Their so much hiding in that head of his that it even overwhelmed me just talking about it.

"Harry- you can't let these things affect how you remember your sisters passing. You were young, scared and conflicted about what your purpose was in life. You had your own hardships as she had hers. Sometimes we get so tangled up in our own thoughts that everything else around us gets blurry. It's okay." I try to comfort while digging around in his past. He has obviously held this guilt over himself all these years and it's not my place to tell him what's right or wrong, but nonetheless I know that his intentions were never to let his sister do this to herself.

He stares at me softly, looking like he's taking in everything I'm saying. I know I won't be able to change that guilt that's been buried inside him for five years- but I can try and have him make peace with it.

"You're really wise, you know that?" He almost whispers while glancing at my lips.

"Sometimes it's nice to talk to someone about these things rather then keep them buried up inside. What was her name?" I murmur while running my hand up his cheek.

"Elizabeth." He murmurs.

What a pretty name.

I slowly nod and lean forward, pressing my lips to his yet again while softly lacing my fingers in his hair.