Dedicated to moonxriver for making me a beautiful new cover for my story I, Spy! x

WHEN THE END OF THE day finally swung by, I couldn't help but feel butterflies in my stomach when thinking of Harry coming round to my home to see my art work. No one - with the exception of my parents and friends - had shown a genuine interest in what I did and for Harry to wholeheartedly wish to see it, made me smile like a kid on Christmas morning.

Now, keep it cool, I reminded myself as I said goodbye to Fiona and shut down my computer. The guy is absolutely broken right now and the last thing he needs is you trying to clamber on to of him and snog him senseless. Do not embarrass yourself or hurt him even more.

I would never dream of hurting Harry. I wanted to help him, to mend his broken heart, and it was said that a broken heart was one of the most painful things in the world. So what better than Chinese food to help me when trying to make him feel a little better? 

"Bye," I said to my colleagues as I left the repairs office and waited by the door of the resources room, where Harry had promised to meet me. He'd seemed a little off at first when mentioning meeting me at the resources room and I didn't blame him - he'd told me all about his and Sally's dream wedding in there and just how much trouble he had gone to when trying to make the proposal a one-hundred percent masterpiece. And then his bitch of an ex broke his heart.

"Bitch," I grumbled under my breath.

"Who's a bitch?"

I jumped ever so slightly as a voice sounded from the stairway. I turned and met the eyes of the evil bitch herself, Sally. My first reaction was to nod and say, "Of course, you stupid, nasty bitch-faced whore," at her but then I realised that I wasn't the best when it came to confrontations and the last thing I wanted was to fight her. Fight her? laughed my subconscious. You'd just wimp out.

"Sally," I said firmly, nodding to her.

"Hey, Jane," she said, smiling widely at me. Harry had been right - she was acting like nothing at all had happened on Saturday night. "How are you doing? I've not had a proper chance to chat with you since the do."

I wanted to laugh in her face and slap her smirk off. "I know," I laughed. "I've just been busy."

"Yeah, same here," she said, flicking a strand of hair out of her face.

Oh, I know you've been busy, you cow.

An awkward silence fell between us and I flashed her the most sincere smile I could. The smile said: I hate you and what your did, and I hoped to God that she didn't see through it.

"So, how have you been?" she asked me.

"Good. Yourself?"

"Great, thanks," she answered, smiling widely, her ridiculously white teeth almost blinding me. "How was your weekend?"

Oh, there is it. "Great, thanks. Didn't get up to very much but then again, that's me." I paused and gave her a look. "How was your weekend?"

She glanced at me and frowned. For a second, I thought she had caught on to what I was attempting but she just shrugged. "It was alright."

"I-I heard some big news happened at the weekend," I said, smiling at her. I just wanted to hear her admit to what she had done. If she brushed it off, I would feel even more inclined to hit her. Only when noticing her reaction did I regret trying to push the subject.

"Big news?" she asked, frowning. She was playing innocent.

"I bumped into Harry last week," I started, noticing how she paled ever so slightly at the mention of his name. "He told me he had something very important to ask you."

She just stood there, watching me.

"So, how'd it go?" I smiled at her again.

"You mean the proposal?" she asked, nodding to herself. "It didn't happen."

I feigned shock. "What? But he was so excited about it! Did something go wrong? I'm so sorry."

"No, don't be. Things just didn't work out between us and I declined."

"You said no to his proposal?"

"Yes," she said, shaking her head. "It just wasn't right for me. For us."

"Really?" I stressed. "That's a shame. I know he was so excited about it and the idea of you saying yes."

"Was he?" she asked in a monotone. She really doesn't care about him, does she?

"Oh, yes," I said. The rage I'd felt earlier on was eating me alive and before I knew it, I let it slip out. "It seems that your legs open just as much as you mouth does when you tell lies."

Fuck.

She looked aghast, completely taken back by my statement. Her mouth had fallen open, her eyes wide. Clearly, she hadn't expected anyone else to know just yet. She took a glance around the corridor, as if checking on one else was there, like a cornered animal and oh, how cornered she was. I took the opportunity to take a step towards her and back her against the wall, taking complete advantage of her shock.

"Listen here," I said to her. "Harry is a great man and yes I may only have known the both of you for a couple months, but that's all it takes to know what kind of person you're dealing with is. You should be ashamed of yourself. All he ever did was worship the ground you walked on, adored you so much that when he walked in to find you with another guy, his heart shattered right there and then."

"I-I-" she stuttered, looking around for help. "Jane, listen-"

"No, you listen," I firmly said. "Hurt him again, and I'll hurt you."

She scampered off down the stairs, her heels echoing up the stairwell of the nearly empty building. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and the guilt I had originally felt when calling her out had vanquished. I felt almost powerful as she turned and ran away. I knew I would probably regret confronting her later on but life was too short to have regrets. I let out a deep sigh and waited for Harry to appear.

Five minutes later he came down the stairs, still looking as rugged and sad as ever. I gave him a sympathetic smile as I told him my house was only a couple minutes from the building. He told me he remembered chasing me down the street to return my phone to me the night of the party and I smiled and nodded in the same direction.

"Literally just round this corner," I said as I pulled out my keys. We walked into the building and up the flights of stairs to my door, Harry's deep breathing and the jingling of keys being the only sounds to echo up the concrete stairway.

I allowed Harry to walk in first, taking his coat to hang away as I did.

"Nice place," Harry commented as he strolled around the living room. "Much tidier than my house."

"You won't be saying that when you see the gallery," I laughed as I walked into the kitchen and put on the kettle. "What time do you fancy eating? I can order at six and they usually arrive between fifteen to thirty minutes later?"

"That sounds good. Thank you, Jane," Harry said, smiling at me.

"Not at all," I answered back as I pulled two mugs out of the cupboard. "How do you like your tea? Or do you prefer coffee?"

"Coffee with one sugar and milk, please," he said. Eventually, he entered the kitchen to give me a hand. He made the coffee while I pulled out two plates and some cutlery for the Chinese.

I watched as Harry poured the milk into the mugs, his hands still shaking.

"Do you want me to do that?" I asked him, reaching out for the carton.

He shook his head in determination and put the milk back in the fridge when he was done.

"Thank you for doing this," Harry said as he picked up our cups and made his way into the living room. I smiled as he sat down, more than happy to be able to help him. I knew that the rest of the night was one of the only times where I could truly try and help him out. It's not as if I could invite him round to my place every day because of what happened. "You really didn't have to, you know."

"I really did," I said, walking through to the living room. Harry was just setting the mugs down on the table as I looked up at the clock. "It's only half five just now so shall I phone at six?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said as he sat down on the couch. "Your home is lovely."

I watched him fondly as he glanced around the living room. It was nothing much; a large enough room to hold a sofa and a couple arm chairs, a table, television and a bookcase. The usual, standard sized sitting area. There were several photographs hanging on the walls as well as a clock and a calendar. Harry stood to inspect the pictures.

"You and your parents?" he asked, both of his large hands holding the warm mug close to his chest. I couldn't help but notice the size comparison and it made me shudder. Those hands ... oh, my. I cleared my throat and nodded.

"Yeah," I said. "Then me and the dog. He was a great dog but he died of old age when I was eleven."

"Aw, shame," Harry muttered. "Don't you have any siblings?"

"Nope, only child," I said. "It has it's perks from time to time - I always got the front seat in the car and had no annoying brother or sister nosing about in my room and borrowing my stuff. Hell, I would have hated that. It did get lonely as a child though. Sometimes I wished I had a sister to play dolls with or a brother to teach me how to play footie."

"I know what you mean," Harry said. "I have a sister. Don't see her often - she lives back home near my parents, up north."

"Did you ever bicker about stupid things?" I questioned.

Harry laughed quietly and nodded. "Oh, yes. Many things. Such stupid, little things as well."

"That's what siblings are for."

THE CHINESE FOOD ARRIVED TEN minutes after I'd ordered it, much to Harry's and my own relief. We were both starving and must have looked like crazy animals as we tore into the plastic containers to dish out our food. I wondered when Harry had last ate - only when he'd taken his coat off did I realise he looked a little slimmer. 

Much to my annoyance, Harry had paid the delivery man while I had been undressing out of my work clothes. I argued with him until we finally settled on both paying half.

"You should have let me pay for it all," I mumbled as I stuffed some chicken into my mouth. I had no intention of trying to act like a lady while Harry was there - I wanted him to feel comfortable while he was at my house, and if eating like I usually did - which was very unlady-like and resulted in half the food running down my chin - then that's what I'd do.

"No," Harry said, laughing shortly afterwards as he pointed to his chin to let me know some food had escaped my mouth. "I can't expect you to welcome me into your home and feed me. That's not very polite of me, to sit and do nothing. I would have paid for it all if you'd not come back in time before the guy left."

"And I would have hated you forever," I laughed.

Loved him forever, more like.

"One cannot hate me," Harry chuckled. I loved hearing him laugh, especially then, after everything he'd been through only a couple days before. I was still finding it difficult to keep calm about the whole thing and I was trying to comprehend why Sally had, as Harry had said, 'lost interest' in him. Harry was one of the nicest, most genuine people I'd ever met and for someone to turn and say he'd lost his interesting factor, was baffling. 

"I can't believe what that bitch did to you," I mumbled. I shook my head an noticed Harry's eyes slowly glance up towards me. "I mean, you're such a great guy and I just can't get my head around her actions."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. "Enough about that, Jane. Let's talk about how amazing this Chinese food is. You were right - my heart is mending already."

Because of Chinese food and not the fact I invited you round to my place as a comforting gesture? 

"Ah," I laughed quietly. I played with the noddles on my plate, twirling my fork around for a couple minutes as Harry and I remained silent. Once I'd successfully eaten all of my food, I asked Harry if he was interested in looking at my artwork and his eyes lit up for the first time since I'd heard about his weekend.

The whole conflict with Sally was gnawing at my mind - I knew I should have told Harry about it instantly but I didn't want to upset him further with my nosiness and poor attempt at warning Sally from every trying to hurt him again. I knew I'd eventually tell him, as I was terrible at keeping secrets. The last thing I wanted to do was keep it a secret for too long and for Harry to then be upset about it. But then I wondered - why would he be mad? Wouldn't he be happy that I stuck up for him? Then again, there were those who didn't like others to get involved in their personal lives and the more I thought of Sally and I's conversation, the more I began to hope that Harry wasn't one of those kinds of people.