𝕯arlene quietly unlocks the door and enters, Harry anxiously following behind her.

She makes it a point to not turn around and face him just yet, because honestly she has absolutely no idea why she asked him to come up.

It's stupid really but there was this little moment of doubt right before she could exit the car and there was this screaming voice inside her head telling her to turn back and say, 'I love you, can we please get back together?'.

She meant to say it too, she really did but the thing is . . . . these past few months, Darlene's been a shell of her real self.

She doesn't feel like herself anymore. The old Darlene would've said fuck it, you only live once and smashed her lips against his begging for him to take her back.

But this Darlene is scared. She's scared that he's never going to forgive her, she's scared that if they do somehow end up back together she'll fuck it up again because that's what she does.

She runs from intimacy, she always has which is why real life and something as sweet as love from anyone who hasn't been in her life since well, forever is terrifying to her.

So instead of 'professing her love for him', she asked him up to her apartment hoping she'd find something to say in the time it took for them to get inside and actually sit down to talk.

But there's just no words left anymore, is there?

"Do you, uhm . . . . do you want something to drink?", she drums her fingers against the kitchen countertop, barely glancing at him as he takes a seat on one of the barstools lined close to her.

"What do you have?".

"I . . . .", she glances back at the fridge in an attempt to delay making eye contact with him.

"There's wine. Water. Coffee. Tea".

He gently coughs into his fist, "Water's fine, thanks".

Nodding she moves to fill a glass with water, allowing the sound of liquid pouring into the confines of the glass to deafen her thoughts, fill the silent apartment.

She slides the glass over to him and sits down on the stool right beside him, as if that gesture alone could convey all her thoughts to the nervous brunet gulping down the water as if it were whiskey.

"Harry".

He reluctantly glances up, waiting for her to continue.

"I . . . read the Rolling Stone article", is all she manages to say.

A flash of disappointment floods through the virescent of his eyes which he quickly covers up by clearing his throat.

But she did catch the falter in his gaze.

"And?".

She smiles, remembering the descriptive and sweet words the writer had used while talking about him. The way he had described his outfit, his carefree nature, his gentleness and eager eyed excitement when slipping up mentions of his upcoming album.

She'd read it as soon as it had come out.

She had also made it a point to purchase the magazine so that she could touch the gleaming pages detailing his words, his laugh, his talent.

The magazine in question is at present idly hidden deep inside the drawer full of bedsheets in the spare room of her apartment.

She could never risk someone like Mia or Tom or her mother oh my god, finding it and passing her one of those looks of pure concern and sympathy but which she believed to be scornful pity.

"I loved it. It sounds so . . . . you. I love how the writer doesn't hold back in talking about you in the purest way possible. It's like he's cataloging sunshine".

His lips pull into a genuine smile as he shifts in his seat to face her, hands resting on his knees.

"Sunshine? You think of me as sunshine, Miss Winslet?".

She feels her cheeks go red, insides bursting at the seams with a shutter of butterflies flowing all through her.

Her smile curls up shyly, head slightly shaking.

"You still have selective hearing".

His heartbeat grows, gaze fixed on hers, the blue in her eyes suddenly seems so hypnotic he feels he could drown in it a thousand times over and still come up smiling, gasping for breath, asking for more.

He gulps nervously.

"That's my best trait, Darlene", his voice drops down in a secretive whisper, just the thought of those words slipping past his lips and the dozens of hidden meanings underlining them makes him want to gatekeep them from the world.

Her smile turns painful, mouth twitching whilst she keeps it from turning down in a frown.

"I thought I could get used to you calling me Darlene again, but it's just . . . . it doesn't feel right", her voice comes out equally low.

A rush of nerves resound through his body, he curls his hands into a fist to keep himself from reaching out and touching her.

"Darling sounds better, doesn't it?".

She sighs, laughing a somber laugh.

"It does", her voice cracks as she averts her eyes to her lap.

"What do you want, Darlene? Just say it. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere".

She screws her eyes shut, vigorously shaking her head to keep his words from making sense so that they don't get to her, so that she doesn't pull her walls down.

"Hey. Hey. It's okay", he reaches out, slowly and carefully slipping his fingers between hers.

She stiffens when his warm fingers nimbly touch her cold palm, the cool metal of his rings embedding itself against her skin.

Her fingers curl into his, holding his hands right there on her lap fighting an invisible enemy in her mind.

"It's okay, darlin'. It's okay", he reassures her softly running his thumb over the back of her hand, feeling her steadily relax.

Darlene blinks her eyes open and catches his gaze, staring right at her.

The emerald of his eyes is dimmed under the bare light of the kitchen, a forest of possibilities staring right into her soul waiting for her to make up her mind.

"Can I kiss you?".

He stares back, surprised. Eyes running back and forth between her eyes looking for a hint of doubt, impulsiveness.

But the silk soft of her voice sounds genuine and a teeny tiny bit scared which pains him because she shouldn't ever be scared of kissing him.

He eagerly nods and she wastes no time in pushing her lips on his, her fingers tightening around his.

Her lips feel soft and warm and delicate and deliciously perfect and they fit so well with his.

Muscle memory slings in immediately as he leans forward, perfectly capturing her lips in between his own.

His tongue swipes over her bottom lip and she opens her mouth graciously inviting him in, her warm breath fanning over his cheek while she tilts her face to deepen the kiss.

Fumbling, he pulls his fingers from hers and grabs the back of her stool dragging it closer.

The stool wrenches forward with a screech, a gasp escaping past her lips falling right into his as he continues moving his mouth against hers.

Their breaths mix together in a fevering warm delight, their lips momentarily parting to inhale before one of them pulls the other one right back in.

Harry presses a long open mouthed kiss to her lips and cautiously pulls back, their noses brushing.

"I have to tell you something".

She holds his gaze, nodding and sits back letting her hands fall back into her lap.

He rakes a hand through his hair, messing up the tangle of curls.

"I'm leaving for Scotland tomorrow".

Her lips part, frowning and shaking her head in confusion.

"What?".

"It's a shoot for a music video. I'm . . . . I'm sorry I should have mentioned this sooner, before we . . . . you know", he gestures between them, chewing on his bottom lip.

Darlene inhales, rubbing her hands over her face.

"This is . . . . okay. Uhm", she exhales loudly, "We . . . . why are we like this, Harry? I just kissed you and now you're telling me you're leaving tomorrow. And my first thought should've been, 'that's great he's working on music videos too' but y'know what? It wasn't. It wasn't because I'm selfish".

"Maybe", he glances around desperately, "Maybe you could come with me. If you're . . . .".

"Harry".

"Please just—just think about it? It's Scotland, you love Scotland".

"No. No. This is ridiculous. We both need serious help", she gets back up on her feet.

Harry follows suit, stepping forward.

"Darlin—".

"Harry, no", she groans, "You can't possibly think I'm just gonna run off to Scotland with you on a few hours' notice. Come on".

"I can't just leave after this", he pleads with her.

Darlene steps back, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Leave, Harry. Go on".

"Don't do this", he stares at her in disbelief.

"You have a life. Just like I do. Do not let me cancel your plans. I will never talk to you if you stay".

He frustratedly pulls on the roots of his hair, a strangled sound leaving his lips as he paces back and forth.

"Why do you always do this? You kiss me and then—and then just—I can't keep doing this, Darlene".

Darlene. It's back.

She steels her expression to hide behind her mask for just a few more moments.

He looks at her, baffled and frustrated.

"Please go".

"You don't actually mean that. Tell me you don't mean that".

"I do. Leave".

"Dar—".

"Harry, I said leave", she all but screams, breathing heavily as she backs into a corner.

He clenches his jaw, eyes staring at a her with a furious intensity. He shakes his head and turns on his heel walking away.

With his hand on the doorknob, he pauses mentally debating whether to turn around and try and change her mind, but she's right — he has a life and so does she, they can't just let their emotions fuck everything they've been working towards since ages.

He opens the door and leaves, closing it behind him with a thud.

Only then does she allow herself to exhale loudly, a tired cry leaving her mouth.

***
having a nightmare about your dad and then seeing him first thing in the morning is a literal jumpscare 🤡