Aquarelle [h.s]

fifty-four

The drive back to London was unusually quiet.

At first I thought he just needed some space so I didn't think about it too much, but when he ended up leaving me in front of my building with only as much as a kiss on my cheek and a whispered goodnight before speeding away, I knew that something else was going on.

I stood there for some instants, biting the inside of my cheek nervously, before shaking my head and turning around to walk inside, trying to convince myself it was nothing as I walked up the stairs.

But it didn't matter how many times I tried to ignore his odd behaviour, it kept coming to my mind again and again, no matter what I did, throughout the entire night. He was in everything I did and everything I looked at, my nervousness easily crippling my rationality and filling my mind with terrifying scenarios.

I knew that silence. I knew that silence, and I knew that detachment. I was familiar with it. It wasn't the first time Harry acted like that. I knew what it meant, and even though I kept telling myself I was wrong, I had nothing to compare it to that would've proven just that.

I didn't understand what I'd done wrong. The past few days in Manchester had been wonderful, and Harry too had seemed to be considerably content. Everything had changed during the ride back, and I didn't know why. I kept analysing the past days over and over again in hopes of finding what had made him act like that, but I couldn't find anything, which terrified me even more. How was I supposed to fix it if I didn't even know what was wrong? I hated it and how useless it made me feel. Like I could do nothing but wait for Harry to hit me with his truth.

The next couple of days went by in a similar fashion. We saw each other but Harry never stuck around for long, and while he was there he was awfully quiet, which was a clear signal that something else was on his mind.

I didn't dare to ask him what it was.

By the time I went back to work on Monday I was fidgety and nervous, and it didn't take long for Louis to notice my odd behaviour.

"What's going on? It's been some days since the last time you walked in here" he said as soon as I walked past the front desk, and I stopped right next to it to talk to him.

"I was in Manchester with Harry for that art exhibition" I replied, giving him a little shrug.

He gave me a solemn nod. "Was it fun? To spend some days with Harry like that, I mean."

"It was" I told him. "He was so amazing, you know? We had so much fun. It was just great."

He raised an eyebrow, staring at me as if he was trying to read all the things I wasn't saying explicitly. "But?"

I sighed, wondering if I should've told him or not for some seconds before deciding to give in, my need to make sense of Harry's odd behaviour getting to me. "He's been acting so weird, ever since we got back. He's so detached."

"Oh, no. What did you do?"

I shot him a glare. "I didn't do anything, that's the thing. He just changed completely and I don't know why."

"Maybe he has something else on his mind" he said questioningly, and I gave him a little shrug.

"Maybe. I'll just go to my office, now. The museum will open soon, if Preston finds me here he'll end me."

"Oh yeah, gotta pretend you're actually working" Louis commented, and I let out a little laugh as I went away.

The next few hours went by with some difficulty, as Harry's behaviour kept being the only thing on my mind, fuelled with many worries I'd never even heard of before. I didn't know what to do and I felt trapped in a situation I didn't like, but at the same time didn't really have any means to get out of it.