CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
As soon as I slam the door shut, there’s another knock on the door, followed by six others. I stand away from the door, hoping Harry doesn’t barge in again.
“Violet, please! I’m really sorry!” He knocks again, begging more and more, “Can we please just talk?” He asks, voice hysterical.
I shake my head at the door, even though I know he can’t see me. “We already talked, now we’re done.” I respond, moving closer to the door to hear what Harry is doing.
His breaths are shaky, and he gives one last faint knock before saying, “Violet, we didn’t talk, we argued.” He takes a deep breath. I imagine him running a hand through his hair like he always does when he gets frustrated, “Please, Violet, I’m so sorry.”
“Okay, you’re sorry.” I say, getting annoyed, “Now leave me alone.”
I back away from the door and sit down on the beanbag. Harry knocks again and rattles the doorknob. “Please let me in,” He says, even though the door isn’t locked, “I just want to talk Violet, please!”
I sigh, putting my head in my hands, then straightening back up to say, “We’re talking right now.”
He groans and shakes the knob again, “Not like this—like, face-to-face.” He explains.
I sigh once again, stifling a groan. “Just leave me alone.” I mumble, turning into the beanbag and closing my eyes.
Harry breathes out shakily and knocks his hand or his head against the door. “Violet, I-I don’t want to do this again.” He says, his words coming out slow and shaky.
I stay silent and he kicks the door, breathing heavier and heavier. “Please understand, I’m so sorry.”
I wait for Harry to say something else, but it never comes, so I settle into the beanbag. It’s quiet for a really long time besides Harry’s sniffles and unsteady breaths.
I just need time to think and to process what all has happened in less than a week. Harry deserves almost none of the things I’ve said to him because he doesn’t even know what’s going on, but I don’t deserve Harry, either.
Just when I think things have settled down, I hear a quiet sob, and then a louder one until his soft cries are the only sounds that are audible in the small flat.
I turn towards the door quickly and before I can even acknowledge my actions, I’m standing up and walking towards the door. If Harry doesn’t deserve the things I said to him, then he surely doesn’t deserve to cry over them. I reach out and open the door, only to see a sight that brings tears to my eyes as well.
Harry’s sitting with his long legs crossed under himself a meter away from the door. His hands are covering most of his face, but the parts that are exposed are red and blotchy and glistening with tears. His body shakes with his small sobs.
I tighten my lips, willing my own tears away and running forward to kneel in front of Harry. He lifts his face from his hands as he hears me sit down in from of him, his body shaking with a hiccup.
“V-Violet.” He chokes out, looking at me sadly before he breaks into another fit of sobs, his whole body shaking with them.
“Shh, Harry,” I try to soothe, keeping my voice calm, “It’s okay. There’s no need to cry.”
He shakes his head and looks up at me again, “I’m so t-tired of this Vi!” He yells, using my nickname again and I almost smile, but it seems a bit inappropriate at this time. “All we do is fight and yell and argue, and when we aren’t doing that, we’re ignoring each other an-and sometimes you don’t even look at me!” He wails, his whole face scrunching up in sadness.
