"Hey, uh... another thing. Don't swing by to check on me. I'll let you know when I'm done, okay?"

○○○

"Evie."

It wasn't until Kristen's face was in mine that I could fish out her voice from the rest of the noise in my head. My brain was still rebooting so all I could give in reply was a faint, "Hm?"

"Coffee after class?"

I almost made the joke that I was one coffee away from confirming if an afterlife existed, except it wouldn't have really been a joke. Sleeping a total of four hours the previous night, combined with waking up with a half-hangover from two beers and coming straight to class, made for an Evelyn that was knocking on hell's door. "Nope, I'm way too tired." I could barely shake my head or react to Kristen's pout. "You guys go ahead, though."

The light persuasion that followed mostly slipped my ears, and the light slander and verbal abuse afterward slipped my ears entirely. I was zoning out again, but at least my friends knew me well enough to know when nagging would work and when to leave things alone—after a couple of jabs about how I was a party pooper, they moved on to something else, figuring I would tell them what was on my mind when I was ready. In all fairness to them, I was already struggling to translate what was on my mind into words.

Telling my friends that I had this thing and hurrying out of the lecture hall without them as soon as we were dismissed was weird, but I felt that the only thing that would calm the nausea was seeing Harry. Which was funny in a completely unfunny way, seeing as he'd explicitly told me not to visit him in the hospital before I left for class in the morning, and the idea of seeing him was making me even more nauseous on its own.

But the feeling in my stomach and the pounding in my chest wouldn't leave me alone until I'd done something to fix the awkward place we were in. I wanted to tell him that the messages weren't his fault, that he couldn't have possibly controlled the actions of another adult person, and the sense of impending doom brought on by my hangover told me it couldn't wait until he left the hospital.

One short bus ride later, I was walking up the hallway toward the chemo unit before I could properly register it. My cold fingertips felt like foreign objects on my face while I adjusted the blue mask over my chin, grateful it would hide at least half of my drained face.

I spotted Harry in the only occupied chair before he could see me, and the relief at how he looked just like he did any other day was comical. Half-lying in a large armchair, feet propped up against the edge of his seat and his tablet leaned against his thighs, he was mesmerized by the screen, only lifting his gaze when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. He did a double-take when he saw me approaching him, eyes widening a bit as he knocked his headphones down around his neck.

Closing my mouth right as I was about to say something, I opted to offer a small wave to break the ice. Or harden the ice, judging by his shocked expression. "Hey," I finally said, crossing my arms while he unfolded his to straighten out his sweatshirt, his tablet sliding from his lap to the chair as he sat up. "I, uh... know you said not to come here, but... I like to break the rules."

I wished my guardian angel would appear from the curtain to my side and whack me across the head with something, but back in reality, Harry just kept looking at me, his lips slightly parted. Once again thankful for the mask, I felt my cheeks redden as I thought clearly for the first time since waking up, and came to realize that I had stupidly gone against what he'd asked of me for no good reason. First I stressed him out on the night before his therapy, then I came to stress him out while he was getting his therapy. "I'm sorry, I should've waited until you came back, but I wanted... to see you. But I'll leave you alone, if you want. It's fine."

"N-no, I'm just..." He spoke just as I was accepting that I'd be leaving in complete mortification; his eyes darted from me to the door behind me a few times before he took a breath, "Impressed with how you missed Cece. I mean, just missed her."

The new information caught me off guard. "She was here?"

"Yep, left a couple of minutes ago."

"What happened? Wait- you don't need to tell me now. You rest, and I'll go home. And we'll just talk later. Unless you..." I blinked, "Want me to-"

"God, just sit down." His already exasperated face broke into a laugh as he watched me obey immediately, sitting down in the chair next to his and crossing my legs. My hands were fidgeting in my lap and my mouth was shut to at least slightly delay the next stupid thing that would come out of it. Harry tilted his head to the side before speaking, "Hi."

I smiled back in relief, growing more hopeful that his tone meant he wasn't completely miserable with me showing up. "Hi."

"Your brain almost overheated."

"You make me nervous."

"No, I know." He bit his bottom lip, and I was instantly certain that we both knew I regretted how I'd worded that. "So, uh, yeah, Cece was here." He paused to chew on the inside of his cheek, "And it's done."

"What's done?"

"We are." His expression didn't change much nor did his light tone as he spoke, but I felt my stomach turn and my feet go cold at the news. "I didn't wanna wait until Monday so I texted her to meet me here. She came, all hopeful, but... it's done."

Asking me not to visit him in therapy now made sense. "I'm sorry."

"'s okay."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm alright." He shrugged, "I mean, it's been a while. I've dealt with it. Went through all five stages of grief for that relationship." He took a deep breath, "I don't know how she hasn't."

Oh, Harry. You sweet summer child. "Yeah," I hummed, "I wonder."

"Honestly, you're lucky you didn't run into her. Not 'cause she'd do something- you didn't come up in the conversation, at all, thank God, but there was... so much crying." He shook his head, "You'd think she'd gotten used to it after she broke up with me, three months ago, but no."

"I'm sorry if I pushed you into it," I said before he could continue being baffled by the concept of nonlinear progression of emotions, "I didn't mean to."

"...What are you talking about?"

"Last night." I rubbed my sweaty palms against my jeans, eyes fixated on the sight so I didn't have to face him. "I don't know if I was too much of an asshole, if I made it sound like it was your fault, if you felt pressured-"

"Whoa, whoa-"

"-but it wasn't my intention. I didn't mean you had to fix what'd happened to me or do anything you weren't ready for. It just caught me off guard and I was a little scared, honestly, but it had nothing to do with you."

The emotion on his face being confusion threw me off a bit. "Well- I mean, it did have something to do with me. You know, how unforgettable I am. How I ruin women for other men."

I couldn't do much but blink at him.

"This isn't the first time I've stopped an impending catfight."

While the words that would usually get at least an eye-roll from me now brought me reassurance, it wasn't enough to get more than a small smile out of me. "I'm sorry, Harry."

His expression softened at the realization that I was genuinely trying to get a point across. No jabs, no teasing, no mocking. I really did feel bad about how I may have come across and didn't want the apology to transition into banter, and he had no idea how to react to that. Lips pressed in a thin half-smile, his hand reached across his armrest and landed on mine.

The sight in my lap brought me brain connectivity issues more than anything else. Not moving my head, I looked down at his incredibly warm hand taking hold of my incredibly cold one, his thumb softly stroking my knuckles. He'd held my hand a couple of times before—why was it now giving me difficulties with forming a thought?

"You have nothing to apologize for," He spoke in a lower voice that drew my eyes up to his face. "I think you already know that and you just wanna make me feel awkward as some form of psychological torture."

"The psychological torture is a bonus, sure," I agreed, and we both nodded at each other. "But that's not my main point this time. I'm just sorry that I freaked out. It was the night before your therapy, too, you should've been resting."

"You had a reason. And I don't hold it against you." My hand was finally reacting to his touch, lightly squeezing his fingers; he squeezed back, my anxiety crumbling away with the touch. "I couldn't hold anything against you, Evie. You did everything for me. A lot more than you should've. You didn't deserve that shit."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I was the cause. If you weren't trying to save my ass all the time, you'd have your peace."

"I'd rather have you." The weight of the whole world fell on the pain receptors in my brain as soon as what I'd said sank in. "Alive."

Face blank at first, Harry saved me the embarrassment by shaking his head, "I'm not fighting you on this. You offered to marry me. You clearly have poor judgment."

"Not as poor as you."

He rolled his eyes again, but when they settled on my face, he was still smiling. Not a teasing smile—more of a content one, and I couldn't have asked for more, all things considered. Watching his ex of two years leave in tears couldn't have made him feel good, nor would've him giving me shit about wanting him (alive) made me feel good.

"I like your mask."

An unexpected laugh escaped me, warmth spreading through my body at the cheesy change of subject. Harry's smile widened and all felt right in the world. "Thanks, it... brings out my eyes." I touched it and shrugged, "I was around people, not sure if everyone was healthy. I didn't wanna risk it."

"I'm not immunocompromised, but I appreciate the thought."

"I was actually thinking of other people that could've been in this unit, so... get fucked."

My defense mechanism against blushing because of him appeared to be just plain bullying him. Another eye-roll at my words, "Ever the flirt. And it does bring out your eyes, so you get fucked."

"Thank you."

He looked me up and down, "Gotta be the first woman that's ever said 'thank you' to being told to get fucked."

"Maybe I just don't want to give you the power to insult me."

"So you naturally just focus on the part where I give you a compliment," he concluded.

"It's less embarrassing for you that way, since you only copied my insult."

Harry's gaze moved up to the ceiling, contemplating my words, "Maybe I'm too zen to tell you to get fucked twice."

I silently agreed; the set of circumstances, as unpleasant as it was, did bring him closure, at least. Like he crossed a task off of his to-do list. I cleared my throat, "So, a new beginning. What are your plans for your new life?"

"Well, actually," He said in a livelier tone, "There is something. A, uh, friend of mine, Scott, asked me if I knew anyone who needed a roommate, and I told him I'd like to move places."

I welcomed the news with a hum, "That's nice."

"Yeah, he's going through a similar thing, and his girlfriend is moving out of the place they shared, so... I took the chance." He shrugged and I nodded in response. "Moving will be a pain, but I don't have a lot of stuff, thankfully. I'll be out of your hair by Tuesday."

I blinked at the last part, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I'll need to rest over the weekend, but I think I could get all of my things packed and moved by Monday night. And then I'll be at my new place."

"But that wasn't the plan," I said, shaking my head, "I mean, move your stuff to Scott's apartment, but don't leave our place."

His lips were parted with confusion as he stared at me. A good few seconds passed before he spoke, "Why?"

"Because." I stared back at him with confidence in the point I was making with the single word. "We... agreed you'd stay until the end of your therapy."

"Yeah, because I lived alone. I won't anymore."

"You'll have a roommate, not a nurse living with you."

"Violet works twelve-hour shifts most of the time," he pointed out, "Not like she has the time or energy to deal with me, nor did I expect her to. Those pain relief drops she got me are out of this world, though. Would annihilate paracetamol in a duel."

He was trying to be funny, but my stomach was once again in knots, and my feet were going cold as the anxious feeling from before slammed into me at full speed. "Plus, Scott's also majoring in Sports Analytics, so we'd be at the apartment and in class at the same time. No need to worry, which I can tell you're already doing."

Aware I'd made enough of a fool of myself with scrambled arguments, my reply was a nod. Acceptance. He had a point, anyway. Especially with the part where he'd be alone even less than he was at the moment, since they both had the same schedule. As much as I cared, he went to class alone and I'd leave him at the apartment to attend my own. It made more sense from every angle.

Except the one where I was, as he'd guessed, anxious about him not being in my sight.

"You know we can still hang out, right?" Another squeeze of his hand reminded me they were still clasped together in my lap, and I zoned back in to look at him and his impish smile. "I can't really read your face, but I'm guessing you'd rather shit yourself than admit you like my company, so I'm laying it all out."

This time I rolled my eyes, finding the perfect escape in his assumption that whatever was going through my head was that simple. I was once again grateful for the mask as it saved me from further embarrassment, enabling me to reply with, "Cringe."

"...Get fucked, Evelyn."

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hello friends! 

i'm very sorry to have this chapter out so late—my mundane job became stressful as all hell overnight so i'm generally not having a great time, though i expect everything to be back to normal in the next month or so.

until then, please bear with me if the updates are a little delayed :')

votes and comments are always much appreciated ♡