"Harry. Hi."

She stared at him with widened eyes, her mouth parting and closing like she was some type of human-goldfish hybrid. He looked equally as shocked as her, his eyes blinking in quick succession, almost like he was trying to make sure he wasn't asleep and this was in fact real life.

In a split second, it seemed like every effect on her body he could have, happened. Every hair was raised, every nerve electrically charged and every one of her pulse spots thudding furiously. It was all she could do in that moment to remember how to breathe. In and out, in and out.

"Wednesday, I—hi."

Before she could stop herself, her eyes were quickly darting down to take in his entire appearance. His hair was slightly grown out, flopping onto his forehead, and his stubble was overgrown, casting a shadow on his face. He was wearing a faded printed tee with some jeans, and she felt her heart drop when she realised it was one of the t-shirts she'd bought him years ago. She chewed on her lip as she noticed the sculp to his bare arms; in fact, it seemed like his entire body was even more sculpted and athletic than the last time she'd seen him. Like he'd been spending every day at the gym or something. But she noticed the darkened circles under his eyes, the tiredness in his eyes. To anyone else, he looked fine. But to her, she knew better. And it was a painful sight to see.

"What...what are you doing around here?" she asked, clearing her throat when her voice came out in a higher octave than usual.

His lips parted as he sucked in a breath, eyes darting between hers like his mind couldn't produce words, let alone a coherent answer. His gaze travelled to her new hair, taking in the unfamiliar sight of it shorter.

"Shoes," he forced out, like the word was battling to stay in his mouth.

Wednesday's brows furrowed as he shook his head in frustration at himself.

"I mean that I...well I was just calling at yours to drop off a pair of shoes you left at mine," he said eventually, holding up the paper bag in his hand that she guessed they were in. "Thought you'd want them back. But, um, obviously you weren't in."

"Oh," Wednesday said, nodding for a bit too long as swallowed back the rampant nausea gripping every part of her stomach. "Thanks."

It was horrible. In fact, it was worse than anything she could have ever imagined—the awkwardness. It was like they'd both completely the lost the ability to act normal around each other, to hold a conversation that wasn't interrupted with nervous stutters and pauses. She was conflicted with the complete and utter happiness of seeing him in the flesh again with the soul-destroying pain of knowing that nothing was the same.

He took a cautious step forward, holding his hand out with the bag grasped in it and forced a smile. "I guess it's a good thing I bumped into you. Here you go."

She reached out, grabbing the handle between her fingers. But the moment his soft skin brushed against hers, they both paused on the spot, like a spark of static electricity had jolted between them. His eyes were already on hers when she met his gaze, wondering if he could hear her heartbeat for how loud it seemed to be in her own ears. A second later, she grasped the bag and stepped back, letting her singed hand drop to her side.

"Thanks," she nodded, looking at the pavement in front of her.

She was sure that looking into his eyes any longer would melt her down to liquid right there and then on the pavement. Or maybe she'd turn to rigid stone, so awkward that her stiffness became a reality. She'd always seen him as someone godlike, but maybe he'd been a gorgon all along. Enticing and consuming with the ability to turn anyone into stone if they looked into their eyes. She wouldn't be surprised if in the end he turned out to be someone mythical. It seemed too good to be true that someone like him could walk the earth as a mere mortal.

"Your hair," he observed, looking to her shorter, highlighted tresses. "You...you changed it."

Her hand instinctively went to her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. A small smile edged onto her lips.

"Yeah, I—I got it cut last week."

Harry looked to it again, analysing it with a look she couldn't determine.

"It looks pretty," he said quietly after a moment, shooting her a small approving smile.

Instantly, her cheeks flamed up.

"Thank you."

More silence. A clearing of his throat.

"How are you?" he asked, sucking his lip between his teeth as he stuck his hands into his pockets, like he didn't know what to do with them around her if they weren't roaming her body.

"I'm good, yeah. Just been out for a couple of hours. Grabbed some food and read my book," she said, nodding her head because she had no clue what else to do when she finished speaking.

"Reading anything good?" Harry asked, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Somehow, telling him that she was reading a book about finding a potential new career path seemed like it would sink this already declining conversation to the depths of catastrophe. With a shrug, she shook her head.

"Nothing too interesting." She instantly found a new topic to deter to before he could ask any follow up questions. "When did you get back from tour?" she asked, pretending she didn't already know the answer.

"Last week," Harry replied, rocking on his heels, seemingly avoiding her eye contact too as he stared down at the ground. "Yeah, I've been, uh...spending some time at Mitch and Sarah's."

"Oh, really? That sounds nice," Wednesday nodded, realising that Sarah hadn't mentioned that to her when they'd been messaging. Maybe that was the way Harry wanted it. To remain incognito to her.

Silence caught between them like something palpable, and it was enough to make her cheeks redden with the sheer atmosphere of thick awkwardness. She looked past him to the corner to her street, knowing that within a minute she could be back inside her safe space if she wanted to be. The safe space that still held the traces of him in it. The safe space that had become his home in those few months too, in a way.

It was like neither one of them wanted to be the one to crack the silence, nor to be the one to say goodbye first. Everything about it was desperately sad, and for the first time in a while, she wanted to let the floodgates of tears crash open. But something told her that crying in the middle of a London street where the sun was shining, and people were passing by wasn't the best of ideas.

Because it wasn't just the awkwardness. It was the realisation of how much she'd missed the man in front of her, missed the simple comfort of his presence. For the first time in her entire adult life, she felt like someone separate to him. Like they were no longer two sides of the same coin. They were different coins with different values, different journeys. And it hurt. In such a short space of time, Harry felt like a different person, and she knew that he must be thinking the same about her. Noticing all the subtle ways in which heartbreak and time had changed her since their last excruciating meeting. A month seems short until you see the physical ways in which a person can grow and develop within that time.

"Well, uh...I should probably head back," Harry said, chewing on his lip as he looked to her.

Wednesday was pulled from her own daze, nodding stiffly. "Yeah, of course. I'm sure you've got loads of work stuff to get on with."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Well, I'll...I'll see you around?"

"Mhm," she hummed, trying to sound like the reality of him walking away from her once again wasn't wreaking havoc on her heart. "Thank you for bringing me my shoes, again."

He looked at her for a few seconds, before a sad smile came up onto his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes. "No problem."

Wednesday couldn't watch as he began to walk forward, holding her breath as he walked past her. A second later, the trail of his scent followed and drifted into her nostrils—smoky vanilla—and the breath she'd been holding back tumbled from her lips in a silent whimper. She turned, watching him walk away, step by step, his broad back flexed against the white cotton material. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes for a split second as the image of him leaving brought back all the pain of that horrible day. When he'd closed the door and not come back. She'd not ran after him that day. Not asked him to stay a bit longer, spend a bit more time together.

As she watched him walk away, she realised she needed more of him. Something to remember, something to cling to in her hardest moments. Maybe they weren't a thing anymore, but that didn't mean they weren't friends. It couldn't mean that, could it? When they'd first separated, she'd wondered how a person could go from having the entirety of someone to a part of them again. But now, stood there in his waning presence, she realised she'd take the smallest bit of him if it meant he got to remain in her life. And maybe that made her weak and hopeless, but in that moment, it felt like the only thing that made sense.

She took a breath before looking back up to him, circling her hand around her mouth.

"Harry!"

Wednesday watched as he stopped in his tracks, his back stiffening, before he turned back round to her. She was sure she noticed his tongue nervously peek out to the side of his mouth as he caught onto the sight of her again. But then, maybe it was a trick of the summer light.

"Yeah?"

She hesitated for a moment, looking around the desolate street before shouting to him again.

"Do you want to go and grab a coffee? If you're not busy?"

It seemed to take him a moment to consider this as he stood silent, blinking over at her like he was trying to figure out if he'd heard correctly. But when he was sure she was being serious, he nodded.

"Sure. That would be nice."

They walked in almost silent unison to one of the cafes she was familiar with a few streets away, the only words spoken being horribly stiff small talk that made her wish they'd just not said a word instead. As they arrived at the café, she noticed the girl behind the counter's eyes widen at the recognition of Harry as he placed his order first, mumbling to him that she was a massive fan. For a second, her stomach tensed with nerves, but then she remembered what Sade had told her. What'd she learnt and what she'd been working hard to implement.

The opinions of others didn't matter. You cannot please everyone.

She took a breath and smiled at the girl as she stepped up to place her order. The girl smiled back at her, tapping on the screen and charging her. But before she moved to the end counter to collect her drink, the girl leaned slightly forward, nervously biting her lip.

"Sorry to bother you, but I'm a really big fan. You actually inspired me to start taking drumming lessons," she whispered, looking sideways at the other customers before leaning back with a smile.

Wednesday blinked in shock, partially at the kindness of her comment and partially at the revelation that she'd had a positive influence on someone's life. Her. She'd always known the influence Harry had on his fans, but she'd never stopped to consider the influence she might have too.

"Thank you, that's...that's amazing. I love seeing more women going into drumming," she smiled shyly, looking to Harry in her peripheral vision whom she swore was wearing a small smile on his face. "Keep up the practice. And have a lovely day."

The girl smiled and said her thanks before looking to the next waiting customer as Wednesday walked down the queue, the hint of a grin on her lips. If Harry had overheard, he didn't say anything. Instead, they both collected their coffees in relative silence as Wednesday rode the high of the interaction, a strange sense of pride collecting in her chest.

"So, what did you and Zara do at the weekend? It seemed like you had fun," Harry said as they began to walk side by side down the quiet street, shaded by the large trees to their right.

Wednesday took a sip of her iced coffee, thinking back to the weekend prior with a happy nostalgia. "We got drunk a lot. She didn't tell me she was coming, so when she showed up at mine with a bottle of tequila on the evening it was a nice surprise. And then we went for a walk into central on Saturday and then went out on the night. It was nice." She paused, remembering a detail. "Apart from sending that drunk voice note, I mean. Sorry again."

Harry grinned amusedly and looked down to his trainers, and Wednesday realised that it had been the first genuine smile she'd seen from him that day. She'd almost forgotten how utterly bewitching it was as butterflies erupted in her tummy.

"It's fine, honestly. It made my morning more interesting, that's for sure," he replied, looking at her quickly with the grin still on his lips before looking forward and taking a drink of his own coffee.

"Zara had some good news for me," she said suddenly, happy to change the subject.

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, staring at her with a raised brow.

"Yeah. She's officially moving back to London. Got a fancy new job at British Vogue," she said with an impressed tone, unable to hold back her own grin.

"Really?" Harry said, equally as impressed. "Good for her. I'm sure that made your week."

"Made my whole year, actually," she chuckled lightly.

Wednesday cleared her throat, thinking about the other drunken interaction she'd had that night. One that had involved a carton of eggs and a whole load of pent-up anger.

"We, uh...we actually did something else on Saturday night. Something that I'm 99% sure is probably illegal," she said hesitantly.

Harry looked to her then, with drawn together brows and an expression that was somehow a combination of intrigue, amusement and anticipation. The corners of his lips pulled up as he saw the possible illegal acts she'd partook in running through his mind, the possibilities endless.

"You did?"

Wednesday nodded, sheepishly looking down to her shoes with a similarly amused grin at the thought of it.

"Yeah. We...kind of...egged Patrick's flat."

Harry stopped walking, letting her admittance sink in before peering over at her with a wide, amused grin he was trying his hardest to keep contained, his eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You egged Patrick's flat?" he repeated, his green eyes somehow more colourful than they were a second beforehand.

"Yeah..." Wednesday grinned, rubbing her nose. "I also threw one at his head. Exploded all over him, yolk and shell, the lot of it."

For a moment there was a pause in which Harry just looked at her like he was trying to link that act with the person stood in front of him; trying to connect the image in his head of Wednesday pelting an egg with full velocity at Patrick. His face oozed shock and awe and admiration that made Wednesday feel a burst of pride in her chest.

And then, rumbling laughter escaped his lips. He held his stomach as the thought of one of the people he disliked most in the world, a man who had always been a cowardly controlling pussy in his eyes, had finally been served with the much-needed karma he deserved. His eyes crinkled as he threw his head back, unable to stop the laughter spilling from his mouth.

If anything had worked to cut the tension, it was that sound of genuine laughter radiating from him. It seeped into Wednesday's skin, making a laugh break from her own lips too, so that both of them were just stood there in unison, laughing like nothing had happened. Like nothing had changed. For a moment, she forgot the pain and heartbreak, their combined amusement temporarily obliviating any of the past couple of months. It almost felt like how they used to be—before the hurt, before the struggle.

"That has made my day. The image of you chucking an egg straight at his head is golden," Harry remarked as the laughter subsided, his grin lingering.

"Well, he deserved it. It was long overdue," she said, thinking back to the glory of seeing his comeuppance and knowing that it had been her idea.

"He definitely deserved it. That article...I'm so sorry Wednesday. I knew he was a cunt, but I didn't realise he'd ever stoop that low," Harry said, his tone losing all hints of humour as he looked at her with a pained glance.

She swallowed back the rage and disappointment the memory that article brought her, forcing a sour smile. "Me neither. But I guess he showed his true colours in the end. I'm okay though. I hope he bought himself something nice with the money."

"Maybe some classes on how not to be a shitty person," Harry mumbled beside her, biting his lip with an irked gaze.

"True," Wednesday smiled lightly, turning to him with her eyebrows raised. "Maybe I should have given him Sade's number? Help him get the therapy he clearly is in desperate need of."

Harry's lips pulled up at her biting remark, enjoying the scene of her unapologetically brutal side beginning to shine through more and more. He'd always liked that about her—her ability to speak her mind without the fear of consequence. Sometimes it landed her in hot water, but most times it was amusing and inspiring, to watch someone not be scared to say what they wanted to.

"We—Jeff—managed to pull some strings and get it taken down eventually. The article," he clarified.

"I know, Sarah told me. Thank you," she nodded gratefully, looking up to the clash of greens from the trees that hung over the gate to their right, tiny streams of light shining through the gaps in the leaves. "Though I think pretty much everyone saw it by that point."

"The people who know and love you know it's not true. They know what type of person he really is. That's all that matters," Harry assured her quietly, looking to her timidly, almost like he was gaging her reaction to the article.

After all, the last time he'd seen her had been when she was in the depth of panic over the public perception of her and the rumours, the remarks, the lies spreading around over them. It was understandable that he'd be wary about doing anything to upset her, trigger that part of her that was sensitive to the negativity.

But she was in a different place now, mentally. And though it was something she was working on, she'd begun to accept the knowledge that she couldn't please everyone. There would always be people who found fault, or something to dislike. And where before she'd thought that the onus of that knowledge was on her, she'd come to discover it actually weighed on the ones with those issues. It was tiring trying to adapt to everyone's idea of the person she should be. Their issues were no longer going to be her issues.

She smiled at him lightly. "I know. No point dwelling on something that can't be changed."

He stared back at her for a few seconds earnestly, eyes flicking over her face like he was trying to find the crack in the exterior that would let him see inside. Let him gage fully what she was thinking, how she was feeling. Though she was working on being more open, and she was slowly getting there, she didn't think she'd ever not be someone who kept their cards close to their chest. It was just who she was—and it was striking that healthy balance between the two that she was trying to master.

She pretended she couldn't feel his gaze on her as she continued walking, taking a drink from her coffee.