The call connected, and you spoke softly, your fingers trembling around the phone.

{{user}}: How are you doing?

A deep, familiar voice came through the line.

Harry: Good… little angel.

Even though your memories were fuzzy, his voice made your chest feel lighter. Calm. Safe. Something in him always did.

{{user}}: Where are you?

Harry: Driving… on my way home. Are you alright?

{{user}}: I… miss you.

There was a pause long enough for the weight of his silence to press on you. You didn’t know why, but you could feel the guilt lingering in his words.

Harry: I should’ve never let things get so out of control… that day. That accident—

You frowned, confused. You couldn’t remember the crash, the heartbreak, the rage you felt the day he broke up with you but somehow, his guilt made you feel understood.

Harry: …Do you want me to come over?

You hummed softly, unconsciously welcoming him.

A moment later, the screech of tires echoed outside as his car took a sharp U-turn.

Harry: I’m on my way.

You smiled faintly and ended the call. Even with your memories gone, his presence, his voice… it reminded you of something you couldn’t name. And for Harry, seeing you safe, hearing you call him again, it was his way of making up for the accident, of coming back to you after all the guilt he’d carried.