hermionediangelo:
[ @ofhugo ] 07/10/13. THE CATHEDRAL.
Nervous. Harriet was nervous. Why was she nervous? The Cathedral had watched her grow from a happy child into a less happy adult, now hoping to reclaim the emotion that her younger self had wielded so freely, standing in the place that she had once considered a refuge. The building, and one of the men charged with its care, could have been considered old friends - something, and someone, to turn to in a time of need - indulging in the comfort of what was known to her each time she stepped over the threshold.
Many labels had been affixed to her over the (almost) three decades of her life, some had lost their adhesive and fallen from the wayside and others remained an identifying marker. Selfish, one she could do without, the thought of being known by that moniker sent a shiver running down the length of her spine, an ugly word that had the power to warp the perception others held of her. Harriet didn’t imagine that people thought of her much after not-so-recent events, why should they think of a disconsolate woman? She had come to the cathedral with the intent to express her appreciation, seeking out Hugo, eventually finding him free.
“I wanted to give you something,” she tells him, holding out the carefully wrapped square box in his direction, “to thank you for -” Breathe, the reminder coming as the words catch in her throat, “- for being there for me.”
Wednesdays at the Cathedral were always relaxing. They were quiet in regard to his duties unless he was requested to help with a religion class. But even that was rare for the most part. It allowed him to spend his day admiring the stained glass as the sun filtered in, a small pleasure in the wake of so many nights spent sinning. For now, he would allow himself just this and be happy with it.
“Harriet,” his voice catches in his throat for a moment. “You didn’t have to.” He tries to remember that last time someone brought him a gift without any strings attached and comes up empty. Even so, a smile works its way across his face as he reaches a hand for her shoulder. “Come, let’s go to my chambers before the other priests get jealous that I’m your favorite.” Privacy, even within the Cathedral, was hard to come by and he’d be damned if they didn’t get to enjoy this moment away from prying eyes.
You always had a talent for lending your ears to others, his mother would say - and for Harriet, he would listen for hours. In a way, something about her reminded him of home, of his own mother. Hugo wasn’t stupid enough to use her as a replacement, and she him, but that didn’t prevent him from seeing Harriet in a similar light; for now, she could do no wrong.








