Hearts Like Ours

The London streets felt so welcoming. Harry was watching the passers by from Gemma’s passenger seat, his legs tucked up against the dashboard. She had the heat on high, humming along to a Death Cab For Cutie song he’d heard a thousand times before but never paid much attention to.

”The Atlantic was born today, and I’ll tell you how. The clouds above opened up, and let it out...”

It was raining outside and his eyes followed the raindrops as they raced down the window. He was tracing a doodle absentmindedly in the condensation, content to be in a car with his sister in a city he loved. He hadn’t yet seen her new apartment and wasn’t sure how much longer it would be before they arrived. The streets were rather busy for a Thursday night, the traffic congested. He smiled over at Gemma as she began to sing along to the song and maneuved her way down the streets artfully, her eyes focused on the road and nothing else.

”The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flatlands to your door have been silenced forevermore, and the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row, it seems farther than ever before. Oh no, I need you so much closer...”

Without thought, he reached forward and turned up the music. Gemma gave him a side glance and smiled.

“You told me you thought Death Cab was too depressing,” she said as she turned onto a side street just before pulling into a narrow lane between two tall buildings.

“The lyrics are pretty,” he conceded with a grin. She rolled her eyes as she pulled into an empty parking space in the small lot they’d driven into. Shutting off the engine and opening the door, the music stopped and Harry unbuckled his seatbelt. His feet hit the asphalt and he pulled a hood over his head to protect it from the rain as he walked to the trunk his sister had popped open and pulled his bag from it. She hit the lock button on the car and began to lead him toward one of the buildings, pulling out her keys to enter a side door.

The space they entered wasn’t particularly extravagent, though stepping into the elevator he could tell it wasn’t a cheap rental. The hallways told the same story, decorated simplistically, but in a way that hinted at expensive taste. Gemma came to a stop in front of a dark wooden door with silver numbers centered above it. He watched her shove the key in the lock, turn it, and enter, flicking on a light as she went. He followed suit, re-adjusting the strap of his heavy bag on his shoulder.

Pausing in the doorway, he took in the space before him. There was a hallway angling slightly to the left and he followed it to where it opened up, a kitchen area leading into a living room. On either side of the living space were bedrooms. Gemma tossed her keys on the counter before crossing her arms, eyebrows raised for his reaction. He cautiously walked forward, unsure of where he was going. She smirked and lifted a finger to point at one of the bedrooms. The Styles siblings had always been silent communicators. As Harry walked toward the guest room, Gemma turned and headed into the kitchenette to brew some tea.

The room was dark and Harry blindly felt for a light. Locating it, he flicked it on to be met with a small room, the bed taking up most of the space. Still, there was enough room for a small table with an alarm clock and a reading lamp. He threw his bag onto the bed before he sat to slip off his shoes. The apartment was warm and inviting and he unzipped his hoodie, folded it, and lay it atop his bag.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” came Gemma’s voice from the doorway. He turned to face his sister who offered him a steaming mug. He accepted it with a grin and followed her to the couch in the living area.

“I love it,” he told her as he plopped down next to her, stretching his legs on the foot rest and watching her as she turned on the tv. She smiled and lifted the cup of tea to her mouth, deciding on a late night talk show.

The two fell into a comfortable silence then. She didn’t ask him about tour or the new album or what plans he had for the week ahead. He always appreciated this quality about his sister, this wordless comunication and bond they had between them. She knew him better than anyone, could read exactly what he was thinking by a simple shift in facial expression. She didn’t ask him these things because she could sense he didn’t want to talk about them. Instead she made him feel comfortable, making him his favorite tea and turning on something they both enjoyed watching. They sat like that for hours, making quiet comments here and there on the guests being interviewed and laughing at the appropriate times after jokes or funny anecdotes. He could live this way forever, sitting beside his sister watching the telly.

After a while of this peacefulness, Harry stood and took the empty mug from his sister’s hand. He made his way into the kitchen, rinsed them out, and set them in the dishwasher before heading into the bathroom. He emerged a few moments later planning on returning to his seat only to find Gemma sprawled out on her side, fast asleep. He smiled down at her, grabbing the blanket draped over the couch and setting it over her frame. He leaned down to kiss her forehead and turned off the lamp, turning to his room and shutting the door behind him.

Harry unzipped his duffel bag, rifling through the contents and pulling out two books. The first was the biography about Kennedy and his assasination. He sat this down before pulling out the journal. Technically he’d read his two pages today, but he wanted to read on, not caring if he broke his own personal rule. He was concerned about Charlie and where they had left off and he settled into bed comfortably before opening the journal again.

Charlie pounded impatiently on Allison’s door. She was anxious to talk to someone beside the empty pages of her diary. Inside the small apartment, she could hear music playing and she knew her best friend was inside. A moment later, the redhead pulled open the door, peeking into the hallway.

“Charlie?” she asked surprisedly.

“Hey. Can I come in?” Charlie asked, moving her body in a way to suggest she would like to enter. Allison blocked the motion immediately and Charlie furrowed her eyebrows in response, confused.

“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea. Can we talk in the hall?”

Charlie bit her lip. What she had to say to Allison wasn’t exactly something they could discuss in the hall. As if on que, Charlie heard laughter within the apartment. Allison’s face turned a shade of red she didn’t know was possible.

Without a word, Charlie pressed her hand firmly on the door, pushing it open wider to reveal the rest of the apartment. Jaclyn, Olivia, and a boy Charlie knew was Olivia’s boyfriend were seated around a dining table, chowing down on takeout. They were sipping on wine and jokingly singing along to the Lana Del Rey that was playing from Allison’s laptop, hooked up to the TV. Charlie turned to look at her best friend, betrayed.

“We were going to invite you...” Allison insisted. Hearing these words, the group all looked up simultaneously, different expressions of guilt on their faces.

“Save it,” Charlie huffed, turning on her heel to exit.

“What the hell did you expect me to do? Anytime I ask you to do anything you tell me you’re busy. I have other friends, Charlie. I don’t need you.”

Charlie stopped mid-step, turning to look at Allison who was holding a hand to her mouth, as if she could take back the words that had hung in the air.

“... I didn’t mean it like that,” Allison mumbled.

“God, this is so like you,” Charlie hissed lowly, trying not to make a scene loud enough to alert any of the neighbors. “The one time I really want to open up to you and you’re acting like this.”

“Well that’s a fucking first. I can’t remember the last time you told me anything about your life.”

“It’s splendid, thanks for asking. I’m pretty sure my parents are on the verge of divorce and my asshole brother got jumped in LA. He’s now back at our house after spending two weeks in the hospital recovering and he’s trying to bribe me into building a relationship with him again.”

The words left her mouth before she could think to stop them. Her eyes filled with tears reluctantly and she did her best to bite them back as Allison watched her, shock coloring her features.

“Emmett’s back?” Allison asked, moving forward as if to reach out and touch her. Charlie bit her lip and shook her head as if to clear her mind.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said blatantly before pushing open the door to the stairwell and making her way down them as fast as she possibly could. Luckily, Allison made no attempt to follow her. Charlie stopped once she hit the sidewalk, lifting a hand to her face to wipe away the tears defiantly. She’d never realized how much she let everyone walk all over her until this point and she was at a loss of where to go from here. She was down by the Sound, the wind wipping her hair as she looked around, desperately trying to think of somewhere she could seek shelter if only for a few hours. A thought came to her and she turned to scan the horizon of the city behind her before beginning to jog.

Charlie had never been particularly athletic, but she felt the need to run, to clear her mind and feel the anger pulse out of her with every footfall against the pavement. Her destination was a good ten blocks away at the most, uphill, but she pushed these thoughts away as she ran, thankful that she’d been wearing yoga pants and a hoodie to begin with. She focused on breathing, feeling the pain in her chest with every inhale and exhale.

Mom. Breathe. Dad. Breathe. Emmett. Breathe. Allison. Breathe. Jaclyn. Breathe. Olivia. Breathe.

She couldn’t distinguish anymore between the pain she felt from those around her and the pain she felt from exherting this much energy. Her eyes scanned the sky above her as she turned a corner, nearing her destination. The sun was gone now, tucked safely away behind the famous gray Seattle clouds that were rolling in. A fog was beginning to set as the day neared its end and she felt relieved when her sanctuary came into view.

The building was like no other in the city, besides the EMP Museum, maybe, but even that looked vastly different. Where the EMP was shiny, colorful, artfully crafted to reflect the creative elements it held within, the library was different. The building jutted out here and there at weird angles, a criss-cross pattern seeming to be the only constant within, holding things together, promising that this was, indeed, an actual structure. She slowed to a walk, trying to pace her oxygen intake as she walked through the automatic doors into the structure.

Charlie tried to recall the last time she’d been here. It had been a while as she had become accustomed to using the campus library, which was a huge contrast to the one she found herself in now. The campus library had come to be referenced as the Harry Potter reading room with its old walls, high ceilings, stained glass windows, and mahogany reading tables. It felt like stepping into Hogwarts. The Seattle Public Library felt like stepping into a new art museum. The decor was modernistic and she walked slowly through the front lobby, scanning the room. The building was a whopping 11-stories and Charlie made her way to one of the escalators.

Charlie tried to recall the last time she’d been here. It had been a while as she had become accustomed to using the campus library, which was a huge contrast to the one she found herself in now. The campus library had come to be referenced as the Harry Potter reading room with its old walls, high ceilings, stained glass windows, and mahogany reading tables. It felt like stepping into Hogwarts. The Seattle Public Library felt like stepping into a new art museum. The decor was modernistic and she walked slowly through the front lobby, scanning the room. The building was a whopping 11-stories and Charlie made her way to one of the escalators.

It struck her suddenly how much she missed coming to this place. It had been a place of safety as a kid, somewhere her dad would often take her after school on their way home. She had spent all her time on the basement level back then, where the children’s room was. She recalled laughing at the sight of him trying to squeeze into one of the tiny chairs beside her, the latest volume of Junie B. Jones in his hands.

“Just let me know when you’re done with that one and I’ll try to finish this as fast as I can so you can have it,” he’d tell her with a wink before opening the book and beginning to read. She giggled and leaned into his muscular arm, happy to spend a few hours with him before returning home to the icy glares that would be shared between her mother and Emmett even back then.

She tried to block these thoughts out as best as she could as she reached the next floor. Here, help desks and young adult novels could be found among a plethora of computers. There was a peppering of people here and she knew the amount of human contact she’d find would decline the further up she went. She hopped on the next escalator, her eyes flashing to the walls, which were made of glass. One of her favorite things about the library was how dark it seemed upon first glance outside. Inside, however, it couldn’t be more open. The entire structure was glass, the steel supporting it to make the crossing pattern that could be viewed outside. The city around her was easily viewable and she watched pedestrians as they walked on the streets below. On any given side of the library, sky scrapers towered above it.

The next few floors were non-fiction and reference books. The escalator became thinner and she followed them all the way up to the topmost floor, which held little beside a breathtaking view of the city outside and a overview of the entire library itself. A few seats were available up here and she made her way to one quietly, her eyes on the cityscape beyond the glass. It was here she felt she could finally breathe.

She was unsure how long she was sitting there, her eyes staring beyond the glass and steel, viewing a city without actually taking part in it. She’d been crying on and off, her eyes red and puffy. She considered leaving but knew she wasn’t ready for that quite yet and besides, she had no where to go.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a voice came from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, startled by the voice. Cam stood there, wearing the same clothes he’d been in that morning. He held a few books in his hands and even more were tucked beneath his arm. He made his way around the bench to sit beside her, avoiding looking her in the face out of respect.

“What are you doing here?” Charlie asked quietly, her eyes downcast as she played with her hands.

“I’m researching a paper,” he responded.

“Why don’t you just use the campus library?”

“It’s Sunday morning. They’re having Bible study,” he explained. Charlie raised a brow, finally looking over to him. “If I wanted to be preached at, I’d go home to my Catholic mom,” he finished.

Charlie let out a shaky laugh.

“Wow. I thought it was 2014.”

“It’s better in theory than in practice.”

She smiled at that. Her heart felt less heavy, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the run, the good cry she’d just had, or the companion she found beside her now.

“I’ve never met you before and now I’m seeing you twice in one day,” she spoke to break the silence, embarrassed when she sniffled loudly against her will, her body too used to the crying she’d just done.

“It’s kind of like when you buy a new car and you think about how unique it is, and then you start seeing it everywhere. We’ve probably crossed paths before, just never noticed.”

The words hung there between them as Charlie quietly accepted them. It was beginning to rain outside and she watched as the raindrops hit the glass ceiling above her before streaking down the panes.

“It’s funny how people can enter your life just when you need them to,” Cam stated, nudging her. “You feeling any better?”

“From the hangover? Absolutely. Everything else? Not at all.”

Cam nodded beside her, setting down his book behind him. He lifted his legs, crossing them below him on the bench. Reaching over, his warm hand engulfed hers carefully. She made no protest, glad to have found a friend in a moment of need. He wasn’t forcing conversation or asking her to talk about it. Instead, she felt he understood, had found himself on the upper floor of the public library himself a time or two before. They continued to sit there side by side, connecting by their hands as they stared ahead out into the city, the rainfall echoing throughout the room. Charlie closed her eyes, enjoying this moment of calm after the storm.

The entry ended there and Harry shut the book accordingly, setting it beneath the Kennedy book in a lame attempt to hide it from sight. He reached out, turning off the light before falling back into the sheets. His eyes shut, his breathing slowed, and he imagined once again what it would feel like to be in Seattle at that moment. What would he have done if he had been the one to walk onto the top floor of a public library another country away? What would he have said to the crying girl there? Would he have approached her at all?

He contemplated these answers until he finally fell into a light sleep. Throughout the night he woke, startled awake by worry. What he was worried about, he wasn’t sure. That realization only worried him more.