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looselucy · 5 years

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Fight

“Maybe… Maybe you should put me down now.” I whispered after spending some time admiring the look of exhilaration that had clouded his usual bright eyes. “Shit, yeah, fuck, sorry.”

He distanced from me so that I could unwrap my legs from around his waist, shedding his body from mine. My feet slowly met the ground once again, my back still pressed against the wall beside his door, Harry keeping hold of me until the very last second, like he thought I may still fall over without his aid. I sort of felt the same way. We were slowly coming back to our senses, and it was leaving us both in a state where we weren’t quite sure what to say to one another. I was still rather breathless from the kiss, budging uncomfortably on my spot and staring up to him, seeing the way he still smiled, practically giddy. “Stop looking at me like that.” I blushed. “Sorry. Can’t help it.” “We’ve still got work to do, Styles.” He nodded, trying to bite back his smile, but I had instilled this ray of hope within him that was making him shine in ways that could not be darkened. “Okay, m’sorry.” He strained. “M’behaving.” I didn’t believe that for a second, but it was nice to feel so endeared by him rather than angry or frustrated or just overwhelmed by him and his actions. Desperate to escape his stares, I headed back through into the living room, letting him follow my lead. Through the doorway ahead of me, I spotted the broken mug that had shattered across the kitchen floor, my coffee seeping into and staining the wood. “Woah, Alf.” I heard Harry cry when he noticed my rapid approach toward the mess. “Please don’t. Let me sort that.” “For fuck sake, Harry.” I huffed as I crouched down on the ground and began carefully retrieving shards. “Please-” “Just help me.” Sighing so that he could make it clear he wasn’t impressed by how stubborn I was being, he retrieved a small dustpan and brush from the kitchen cupboard below his sink and then crouched down in front of me and got to work, managing to easily sweep up some of the larger pieces, the smaller ones trapped in dints and cracks. We were quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.” He muttered. “Why?” “I dunno why I do shit like this.” He nodded down to the shattered ceramic. He was frustrated with himself, ashamed about an outburst he’d had only moments earlier. I felt bad for him, in a way. I didn’t want him beating himself up over a mindless bit of rage that hadn’t really caused any harm. “I guess… emotions are running high today-” “That’s no excuse. I’ve still got stuff I need to work on, I know that.” He stopped what he was doing, looked right at me, so I looked at him. “There are still things about myself that I don’t like, and I want to be better. I need you to know that this isn’t… a reflection of me. This is all stuff I’m working on, Fee-Fee, I promise.” “I know.” I whispered warily. He nodded and dropped his head, got back to work. Harry had always been working on himself, trying to better himself. Always. It came as no surprise to me. He hadn’t needed to explain himself, but I could see why he had, especially after all the worries and emotions I had already expressed to him that morning. But I knew him and I knew that he’d always be making an effort to be the best version of himself; that’s just what Harry was like, successful or not. We were down to the final few pieces before he spoke again. “I’m sorry.” “You don’t need to keep apologising. It’s fine, honestly.” He simply shook his head, overthinking his actions, overthinking how I might be viewing his actions. He collected the final few pieces from the ground, standing back upright and heading to dispose of them as I stayed on the ground, watched him. “I’m not expecting you to be perfect, Harry.” I wanted to make that clear to him. If we were really going to try and make a go of things again, I didn’t want Harry to do so feeling like he had to be on his best behaviour, like he had to manage and alter himself to suit me. I had fallen in love with everything about him, not limited to his good attributes. “Okay.” He accepted through a sigh. “Then… tell me what you want.” I got to my feet, cautiously made my way over to him whilst he leaned against the kitchen counter, apprehensively awaiting my answer. “I can tell you what I don’t want.” I stopped a few inches ahead of him, noticing how the proximity affected him, made him tense and rattled in a rather charming way. “Tell me.” “I don’t want secrets. I don’t want to hide away, like we used to. I don’t want a relationship that’s locked indoors like we have something to hide. If you really want me back, we’re not just gunna pick things up where we left off. It’s something new, and it’s open.” “I want the same thing.” He whispered deeply. “And I don’t want to ever feel like I’m trying to… figure out what’s happening whilst you pull away from me. I want you to be open and honest, like you have been since you got back.” “I can do that.” He nodded. “And I’m not gunna pull away from you, Fee.” “You don’t know that.” “No, I do.” He fought. “You have to believe me. I… I don’t care what happens… You’re the one thing I’m certain of. No matter what changes around us, it’ll still be us. Just me and you.” He had said those very words to me so many times since he’d entered my life, claiming it was just me and him. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him so badly. I took hold of his jumper with both hands, looking down as my fingers tugged and fiddled with the material. He covered my hands with his, touching me softly as I closed my eyes and shared what I believed was the most important thing that I didn’t want. “And I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to monitor yourself around me.” I told him timidly. “When you’re mad at me, be mad. When you’re feeling down, just feel it. I don’t ever want you to feel as though you can’t experience your emotions honestly because you might run the risk of losing me, because that’s not how it is, at all. I don’t want you to be perfect. I… I just want you.” When he didn’t respond to me, I lifted my head to look him in the eye, seeing the mystified look of adoration that cloaked his features, as though he couldn’t even believe what I had just said to him. He didn’t need to put on a show to win me back. He didn’t need to be faultless, because I wanted him with all his flaws, all the honest and raw love he had to offer. Our relationship beforehand had been shrouded in secrecy, and now all I wanted was a life of honesty with him. Tears began to fill his eyes, coming to terms for the first time with the fact that I wanted him, exactly how he was. I always had. “I love you so fucking much.” He gasped when the first tear fell.

“You’re fucking kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.” Harry gasped, sitting upright on the sofa. “I’m deadly serious.” “Chloe and Sam?” “Yep.” “Fuck off. What the fuck? I feel like you’re lying and you’re just seeing what I’ll fall for.” “I’m genuinely not lying, I promise.” I laughed. “They’re together.” “When? Why?” “For ages!” I cried. “Like… it was going on behind closed doors when we were going on behind closed doors.” “No fucking way. What the fuck is she thinking?” “They’re in love.” I shrugged, because there was truly no better explanation. “He seems to be loads better now, y’know. I think she’s the right person for him and now he’s like… the best version of himself. For her, because of her, I dunno. But… they’re really good together.” He seemed rather dubious, but Harry hated Sam more than I’d ever even had the energy to. But I knew I was right, and I remembered so clearly the time my dad had said that to me; that one day Sam would meet someone and all those wonderful things would just come naturally to him, and he would become the best version of himself when that day came. I truly believed Chloe was that person. “Well,” Harry sighed, focusing his gaze on his lap, where his fingers fiddled a fidgeted, a distraction from the obvious. “I get that. I think… I think you always made me the best version of myself, so… yeah. I get it.” The sun was beginning to set and the two of us were sat across from one another on his sofa, where we’d spent most of our day. Since my attempt and subsequent failure to leave, we had revisited his paintings, he’d spoken to me about them more, gave me a brush and tried to instil some knowledge upon me, teach me some techniques, the two of us painting together again, as we had that one time. In the afternoon, we had eaten together and been playful and spoken about absolutely nothing and yet everything, eventually moving our conversation to the sofa where we still sat. And we hadn’t kissed since that morning. That felt like a good thing, though difficult. Especially when he said things like that. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. I had missed the simple pleasure of purely being around him; existing within his atmosphere and him existing within mine. I found that my most pensive and wistful moments were trapped inside his tiny movements, noises, his scent, his tone and mannerisms, the mundane tics of his that should have meant nothing that actually meant more than I’d ever realised. It felt incredible to just be around him. “What?” Harry sniggered. “Nothing!” “You’re staring. “M’not staring.” Clearly, I was lying. I didn’t cover it well and he certainly didn’t believe me, shaking his head and grinning wildly, mood lifting. The second I looked away from him, I felt the way he lifted his head and looked at me, blatantly obvious. It was no surprise he had noticed my stares. “Wanna hear the most unbelievable thing?” I asked him. “More unbelievable than Sam and Chloe?” “Mhm. By a mile.” “Hit me.” “Your mum knew my mum.” I lifted my eyes so I could see his immediate reaction. He went pale. Literally. The life drained from his skin as the knowledge I had shared settled in his mind, becoming so completely dumbstruck I wasn’t sure I’d ever get any words from him again. It was odd to have to catch him up on things such as Sam and Chloe, the way our mothers knew one another. He hadn’t even known that Louis and Libby were engaged. He’d missed out on so much since he had left, the little and large occurrences. Telling him had helped me to realise how much he cared, not just about me but about everything and everyone he had found in Rosebury. He'd missed it, I could tell. “When they were little, before your mum moved away.” I continued when I realised that he wouldn’t be able to form an answer. “Best friends, apparently. That’s kinda how me and your mum got talking. She came into my shop and she recognised my name, and then she mentioned the dog my mum had when she was little, and it clicked. Turns out they were pretty close.” “Holy shit.” He panted. “I know.” I’m not sure what I expected him to say. There wasn’t much to say, really, it was just incredible to think about. It had been almost a month since she had visited my shop and we had come to that astounding realisation, and it still hadn’t quite sunk in. It was such a wonderful thing. Somehow it made me feel more of a bond with my mother whilst also giving me more of a bond with Harry. It was a stunning sensation to experience. He shook his head, spoke breathily. “I… I don’t believe in fate, but shit. Meeting you makes me doubt myself.” “Turns out we go pretty far back.” I smiled. “And further forward, I hope.” The gentle optimism within his voice made me tremble, gazing down into my lap and failing to hide my smile. “Shit. I can’t believe they knew each other.” “Crazy, innit?” “S’weird. Makes me feel… even closer to you.” “I… I’ve missed being close with you.” I mumbled nervously. “I’ve missed everything about you, to be honest.” “I’ve missed you too.” His voice was quiet but confident, clear, rueful. “Just… this. Being around you. Talking to you. You were… everything whilst I was here. I guess I hadn’t realised just how much of a void there would be in my life without you.” “When you left… did you think that was it? Like… did you think that was the end? Or did you always want to… come back?” “I thought that was the end. But only because I thought things were better that way. That you’d be happier that way. I didn’t think your happiness could include me.” “Now you think… you’re my happiness?” “I think I could be.” He responded. “If you want me to be. If you let me. I could be a part of it, anyway. I know your friends and your life here is your happiness, I just wanna be a part of that again.” “I know what you mean, but… you had a life here too, Harry. You didn’t just come into mine. It was yours.” “Well then I want to live a life that’s ours.” He was being so incredibly forward, his endeavour clearly to make up for all those times where he hadn’t been upfront with me. But I knew that wasn’t the sole reason behind his earnest nature; I knew that he desired to be that way for himself. This was a new corner he had taken, and finally, he found strength in honesty, when all he had found before was weakness and pain. His truth was finally something that made him strong. I remained coy, still not giving him a certain answer whenever he had put himself and his wants out on a line for me to analyse. I just blushed, my stomach seeming to expand and shrink in quick succession as I tried to avoid his words. “Uh… It’s getting late.” I choked. “We should probably get some sleep.” “Spare room?” He asked. “Spare room.” I confirmed. He didn’t put up a fight, which I appreciated, but I didn’t miss the look of disappointment that danced over him, even if it was just for a split second. His shoulders dropped, his throat snagged, a gulp of air hitting the back of his throat before he nodded, his eyes looking anywhere other than at me. “Okay. You’re the boss.” He smiled. That didn’t help me, him saying that. Even more than him calling me boss, it was the simple fact that I knew he meant it. He wasn’t just saying it, he wasn’t secretly frustrated by where I wanted to spend my evening; I was the boss and it was totally up to me and he respected whatever my choice was. That made my decision to stay in the spare room even less appealing than it already was. Harry got up to his feet, offering his hand to me so that he could help me upwards. Placing my fingers between his set my whole body alight. Every fucking inch of it. I couldn’t believe it, but that simple touch we shared brought back so many feelings, ones I had spent that day with him trying to subdue and repress, ones I had tried to forget for the past year. I had wanted to talk with him and truly gather how I felt without the physical side of things, without my passions taking over, but then all I had to do was hold his hand and these undeniable emotions rushed over me. I could have cried it was so overwhelming, and all he’d done was take my fucking hand and it was as though I could see my future with him, map it all out and plan because I fucking trusted him. It didn’t matter what had happened, I trusted him and I knew I wouldn’t be a fool to open my heart back up to him once again. I just knew it. And all I’d done was hold his fucking hand. I withdrew my touch with speed, thanking him quietly for his assistance and then scuttling out of the room with my head down to the ground, deluded by thinking that may help me and my dire need to avoid both him and the feelings he was inflicting upon me by doing so little. I’d just wanted to be that bit stronger, a way of proving to him just how serious I was, just how much he’d hurt me. I had fooled myself into thinking that would be easy, that the infuriation and hurt that I had homed for the past year would be enough to stop me feeling fondly for him prematurely, before I’d fully made my point, before I’d reached my final conclusion. I was just drawn to him in ways I couldn’t deny. He was a few steps behind me as we made our way upstairs in silence for the second consecutive night, but unfortunately the fact it wasn’t the first time didn’t put me any more at ease. If anything, I was more tense than I had been the night before. “Thank you.” Harry said as I reached the doorway to the spare room, turning around so I could look at him. “For today. I’ve loved it.” It had been rather magnificent to spend so much time with him again. I hadn’t expected it to be quite as easy as it was, but being around him and talking to him had been as natural and wonderful as it always had been. He somehow managed to make me feel so relaxed, so myself. I’d loved it too. “Goodnight.” I smiled, beginning to close the door. “Night.” He returned. I shut him out as quickly as I could, then laying my forehead against the door and closing my eyes, fighting urges, taking a minute to myself before I ripped away and started undressing, pulling my t-shirt over my head as I wandered to the far side of the bed. I really wanted to snap out of it. I could feel my self-control slipping away as I undressed, begging me to stop being so stubborn and to face up to the fact that I should have been in the room next door. I should have been with Harry. I sat myself on the edge of the bed when I got down to my underwear, in two minds. I didn’t want love to have been the thing to shatter me. It had reached the stage where it was my decision, what love did, how it affected me, and I could either let it be something that drained me and caused pain, or I could let it consume me in the greatest way it could; with warmth and joy and devotion and desire and passion and every fucking thing he wanted to offer me. I made a split decision which side of my mind to follow. I decided how love would influence my life and command my soul. I got back to my feet, cursing beneath my breath as I stormed right back out of there, into the hall and knocking on his door as quickly as I could. He appeared within seconds, panting, he too stripped down to his underwear. “Please tell me you wanna stay in here.” He gasped, and I nodded. “Thank fuck, m’dying.” The relief physically poured from him, stepping aside to welcome me back into his bedroom fully as I giggled at his response to me, my eyes exploring the dimly lit space, the moonlight welcoming a murky glow into his stark room. My smile didn’t last long. “There’s no plants.” I mumbled as he closed the door. “No. I uh… I had to get rid of them when I left.” His room had always been a bare and barren place, but without those plants there was really nothing to it, just his low bed and unmade sheets and us. Nothing more than that. “It doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel like you.” I stated, staring down to the empty space where his plants had once been. “It does now you’re here.” My eyes drew back to him, seeing the solemn and serious look upon his face, marking just how much he had meant those words. He was somehow managing to make me so nervous, my stomach in knots, questioning how one person could make me feel so on edge and exhilarated whilst simultaneously being the embodiment of home. As much as I had missed him, I hadn’t necessarily missed what he could do to me, how weak he could make me. It was something I seemed to have a love / hate relationship with. It was both fascinating and infuriating. He must have noticed my uneasiness, my apparent inability to answer him. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed.” He suggested. We both walked around to what we knew were our subconsciously designated sides of the bed, Harry first quietly observing as I lay myself down and dragged the duvet upwards, and then he joined me, the two of us laying with a huge space between us in the centre, facing one another. I looked into his eyes for as long as I could stomach, seeing right into his soul. “This feels weird.” I hushed honestly. “I mean… it feels right, but weird.” “It feels right?” “Mm. I… For fuck sake.” I chuckled, hiding my face by dragging the duvet even higher. “Forget I said that. I’m embarrassing myself. Ignore me.” “I can’t ignore you, that’s my problem.” We had both tried to ignore each other, disregard that feeling the other inspired, but at that point I was sure that doing so would mean we were fighting a losing battle. Maybe it was better to surrender. He grasped the duvet, slowly easing it downwards so that he could see my face, then placing his fingers beneath my chin to gently nudge my head up, urging me to look at him once again. “I… I think it feels right because it is right.” He elaborated on my words. “There’s something about me and you, Alf. We’ve both tried to fight it but this is where we’ll end up, every time. Maybe we should stop fighting.” I had no fight left in me. Whatever it was I had been trying to dismiss, it wasn’t going to happen. It may have taken some time, but as I closed my eyes then, I felt I had accepted that within myself. I was making my peace with it, I just needed to sleep on it, and then it would be time to truly share that with him. I only opened my eyes again when I felt his touch move, the back of his fingers resting against my cheek whilst his thumb stroked sweetly back and forth beneath my eye. He had tears in his eyes. “Why’re you crying?” I asked with an ache in my gut. “I missed this.” He managed to smile, a tear rolling from his eye and hitting the pillow. “Even just seeing you like this. It’s fucking pathetic, but I… I’ve stared at the empty side of the bed for over a year, and now you’re actually here again and I… I can’t explain what it’s doing to me.” Whatever doubts I may have had when it came to Harry and his feelings towards me had been entirely demolished. Everything from the way he moved to the way he looked at me and the things he said, there was no way I could feel anxious or worry over the truth of his feelings; he lay himself totally bare for me. He was quiet, unbelievably beautiful and alluring even when he was in tears. I kept my eyes on him, my hand laying lightly on his chest. “Will you hold me?” I eventually asked. He nodded, still not quite able to believe that I was there with him, bewildered by my presence and how close I wanted us to be. And so leaned into him, placed the smallest and most delicate kiss I possibly could upon his lips, lingering within the moment a few breath-taking seconds before I pulled away, noticed the woozy look of bliss on his face before I turned myself to face away from him. His arms were around my waist within a second, pulling me back to him, breathing me in. I loved the way his body felt against mine, the strength he used to capture me and keep me as his own, kissing the back of my neck and keeping his snare secure, holding me as close as he could, tender yet intense. He handled me with care, compensating for the harm he had caused. Nothing felt better. I could have stayed there forever, knowing that I consumed every sense he had. “Goodnight.” I cooed once I felt totally settled, sleep only seconds away. “Goodnight, Fee-Fee.”

July 20th Waking up hadn’t felt that good in months. The sun was bright, casting shadows of the woodland onto his bedroom floor. Harry’s arms were still around me, like we hadn’t moved a muscle since we’d slotted ourselves together the night before, as though our bodies had relished in their chance to merge into one once more. I got this immediate sense of peace, as soon as I opened my eyes, slowly blinking in the morning, hearing Harry breathing ever so gently behind me. I could hear a bird chirping just outside his window, feel the warmth of his body radiating against mine. I didn’t even want to wake him, I simply wanted to stay in that moment, embrace it in all its glory. It was quite some time before he stirred, inhaling both the morning and me, snuggling closer. “It wasn’t a dream then.” He grumbled. “Huh?” “You’re really here. You’re really in my bed with me.” “I am.” “Fucking mad how good it feels.” He chuckled as I unhinged from him just slightly, enough so that I could turn around and look at him, propping myself up with my elbows, Harry keeping me wrapped in his arms as much as he could. “You sleep okay?” “Really well.” This time, I wasn’t lying. “Did you?” “Yeah. Amazingly, actually. Like I used to.” He always looked so good in the morning, with his eyes still droopy, hair messy, voice docile and deep. Harry was at his absolute finest mere moments after stirring, it was implausible. “Thank you for letting me stay in here.” “Letting?” He sniggered. “It’s hardly like I’ve done you a favour.” “I guess not.” I laughed lightly. “I feel like if anything, I should be thanking you.” He smiled. “Even for… giving me a chance. I know I probably don’t deserve it, after everything.” “Harry-” “Y’know what, this might be a little too deep, a little too early. It’s a bit much.” He grinned sweetly. “Let’s have a relaxed morning. I’ll start my begging again later.” My cheeks were already hurting thanks to the size of my smile. I admired him in silence, stroking my thumb across his bottom lip, taking my time to silently worship each individual feature on his face, noticing that after a while of staring back at me he just closed his eyes, cherished my touch. We stayed that way for some time, quiet, calm. And then I shattered it. “I love you.” I gasped. His eyes bolted back open. Frankly, I was as stunned as he was. Not only was that the first time I had told him I loved him since he came back, but it was the first time that I was able to admit to myself that I loved him, that I’d always loved him. It had never stopped. It had never lessened or frozen or weakened; it had always been there, even when he wasn’t. He was right with what he’d said the night before, about us trying to ignore and fight our instincts; no matter how we tried, no matter how valiant our efforts, we would find our way back to each other every single time. We didn’t quite seem to function fully without the other. Tears created a mist that clouded his green eyes, lips parted, body shaking. “I don’t wanna fight it anymore.” I started crying too. “I’m so tired of fighting.” “Don’t fight it.” He shivered. “I love you.” I lay myself back down on my side of the bed like even saying it exhausted me, made me need to rest my body. “I really love you, I never stopped. And I want this. I want all the things you want, but I’ve just been so scared to admit this because I didn’t know if you really did love me or-” “Don’t.” He tried to stop my words of doubt. “But-” “Fee-Fee, I…” He was struggling to word how he felt. “I gave you my heart the second I told you about my family. I just didn’t know what it meant. And… I didn’t know that you’d keep it.” I suppose Harry hadn’t expected me to look after his heart in the way I had. Too often his life had revolved around times of hardship and losing those he loved, feeling as though his heart had been misused or abandoned, misunderstood and jilted. I wanted to prove to him that his heart was finally in safe hands. As long as he wanted to keep mine, I would keep his heart close and fill it with all the love he had missed out on in his loneliest years. “I love you, Harry.” “Fuck, I love you too.” I hadn’t even known where his hands were beforehand, but all of a sudden they were on the back of my head and weaving through my hair, pulling me closer to him so that he could close the gap and put his lips on mine, his hands grasping so his fingertips pressed heavy into my head, his hips winding forward until his body pushed restlessly against mine. I snaked my hands up to clasp at his neck, feeling the way his jaw moved when his mouth widened as his tongue teased my own, one hand of his leaving my hair and moving down my body so that he could yank my waist so that I was closer to him even still. I hung my leg over his hip, pushed my groin to his, heard him bleat bleakly in response, hardening and swelling through his boxers and I could feel it. His fingers went to my bra as mine went to find the band of his underwear, pulling them down as far as I could without breaking our kiss, leaving him to do the rest of the work once they were out of reach, kicking them off his legs as I took his dick in my hand, heard the way he groaned in response, so loud and raw that it was obvious just how long it had been since I had touched him that way, the power of what I was doing to him. “Fuck, Fee-” He grunted. “I want you.” He lost his patience quite quickly, moving so that he was above me and he could easily make his way down my body, kissing trails right from my neck and over my chest and my stomach whilst his fingers dug into either side of my knickers and gradually guided them downwards, meaning that within seconds the two of us were completely naked, and his mouth was an inch away from my clit. “Fuck.” I was already breathless, just feeling him breathe against me, my head lolling heavily into the pillow. He turned his head, kissed the inside of my thigh, his teeth teetering tenderly against my skin, harsh enough that I was forced to bite my lip. And then his tongue was on my clit, his hands clasping my legs and forcing them to widen, eyes burning me as he watched my reaction, which was one of astonishment. I’d almost forgotten how good he was, how good he made me feel. He’d barely started, but it was the fact it was him doing it that made it feel so utterly extraordinary. The way his mouth moved was wonderous, my fingers digging into the mattress whilst his tongue worked my clit, hardly able to hear the way he moaned thanks to my panting and whining, pushing a little closer to him. For a few moments, it was as though nothing had changed, as though we hadn’t lost all that time. I closed my eyes, and all those months rewound in my mind, back to before his brother had broken into his home, before I’d told him I loved him. I was back in those perfect months we had shared, where it seemed like he was my whole world, when nothing else had mattered except us and our relationship. I wanted that again. I wanted to be totally consumed by him in every single way I could be. But I knew that this time around we’d have an honesty we never had before, an openness, a chance to build something that felt real, something that would last. If I thought what we’d had before was perfect, it would pale in comparison to what we were about to create together. “Harry,” I gasped, my left hand resting over my breast and my fingers rubbing my nipple as my right hand reached down, my fingers clasping at his hair. “M’so close.” I gazed down my body and pulled at his hair, harsh enough that he had to stop for a second, his eyes like saucers and his wet lips forming a blissed-out smile, appreciating my taste and my tight grip. He went back in as soon as he could, his hand moving from my leg so that he could touch my heat, circling and then easing his thumb into me, the perfect addition to what his mouth was doing. I unravelled, practically screaming as I did, Harry still with his mouth right against me, devouring my orgasm before he started moving back up my body, his wet kisses marking his journey back up to my mouth. He kissed me, but I struggled to respond, like everything was just happening around me and I was too out of it to actually do anything myself. “I’ve missed hearing you scream like that.” He grunted, two of his fingers rubbing slowly between my folds. He'd always liked that, how loud I was. I could still remember everything about that time in his gym, the first time he’d touched me that way, covered my mouth with his hand to try and drown out my cries. “Make me scream again.” I requested breathlessly, biting my bottom lip. He smirked, positioned himself, looked down between our bodies to watch what he was doing as he slowly pushed himself into me, filling and stretching me out, both of us cursing in time with one another. Fuck it felt so good. Too good. “Holy shit, fuck.” He almost sounded angry as he moved and kissed my neck, every movement and every touch heavy and harsh. It was us, it Harry and me, and I think no matter the circumstances it would have been incredibly intense, but it had been so fucking long since we’d been together that way, and neither of us had been with anyone since. It had been seconds, he had barely moved, and yet it was so vivaciously powerful and overwhelming that it was almost like this sexual awakening I was experiencing. Maybe on some level I knew this was it, that he was the person I would play my days out with, that no one else would ever touch me that way again. I thought it would be a tender moment, but it seemed our bodies didn’t know how to make this delicate. There was too much power, too much passion behind every movement. There was too much depth for this moment to ever be light. I clawed at his back, his thrusts driving me into the bed with so much power I thought my imprint may remain in his mattress from that point onwards. His messy mouth moved from my neck to my lips, kissing me with everything he had. “I love you.” He whined. “I love you too.” I just about replied, my words shrouded in desire. His hands were on my waist, so forceful that it was almost painful, but in this strange way it was enjoyable. I knew I didn’t want him to let go. The bed moved as he did, and I was already so out of it with pleasure that I could barely comprehend what was happening, how big and commanding he was, how forceful his kiss. He told me he loved me again, gasped those three words I had waited so long to hear him say, and then he said them over and over again until it felt as though that was all I could hear. He surrounded me with the love he had finally learnt how to give, and I wanted him to do that forever. I started to cry. I wasn’t sure when it happened, and those tears were not derived from any pain or sadness. I just started crying, tears quietly streaming down my face, my chest juddering. Harry noticed, stopped kissing me. “Alf? What’s wrong?” “Nothing, it’s nothing.” I shuddered, smiled up to him. “It’s perfect, I promise.” I didn’t need to reassure him more than that, because he understood it. He understood the emotions I was experiencing and why they had stirred that reaction. I remembered how it used to be when we slept together. We’d always had that connection that made our sex magnificent, unlike anything I’d experienced before him; it had never been bad, but there had been times where it had felt empty. There had been times where he was like a stranger and I’d struggled to find that real bond with him. He had gotten so accustom to locking himself away from others and sharing nothing real that sometimes being intimate with him had been anything but. Being with him then was like I could see and feel everything, all of who he was, who he had been, who he wanted to be in his future, our future. There was nowhere to hide anymore. He kissed me until he physically couldn’t any longer, his orgasm building up and conquering his body. I could literally feel the heat rising through his frame, watching him intently. “Fuck, fuck.” He broke, jamming his forehead against mine as he finished. I grabbed his cheeks in my hands and kissed at his lips as he came back around, smiling as I planted tiny pecks upon him, able to feel his shakes. He looked so beautiful, so happy. His face was this picture of pure pleasure and joy, which was exactly why I wanted to kiss it over and over again. We’d both been sort of spaced-out all morning, not quite able to comprehend where we were and how we were feeling. “This can’t be real.” He whispered. Harry never expected the best. Even after therapy, and how much that had helped him and assisted when it came to him viewing things that little bit differently, it hadn’t quite done enough to alter that part of Harry’s mind that always expected the worst, because so often it was the worst he had gotten. “It’s real.” I told him. “You love me?” “I do. And I forgive you. I understand and I forgive you and I wanna move on and build a future with you. If that’s what you want.” “Of course that’s what I want.” He gasped. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.” We started kissing again, wrapping our arms around one another and writhing around on his bed, obsessed with each other. He took me with him as he rolled onto his back so that I was straddling him, my long hair falling all around us, our smiles an additional part of our kiss. We cooled, Harry biting his lip as he gazed up to me. “So… where do we go from here?” I asked. “Uh… I guess we need to tell everyone. Fuck.” “Louis knows.” “Of course Louis knows, you tell Louis everything.” He sniggered. I hit his chest playfully, deciding not to tell him that Lin had also figured out that something had been gone on with us. I knew what Harry was like, and I knew it was no time for me to be mentioning Lin. “And I’m gunna move back here. Back into this house.” He said. “What? You are?” Even with all the things he’d said to me, I had still expected him to up and leave, sell that house. There was a reason he’d bought that building in the first place, and it had fallen through. I thought it might hurt him too much to stay there. “I think I bought this house convinced that it was for my mum and that was all it could be, but maybe it should be mine. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be about the past, but it’s supposed to be about the future. My future here, with you.” “I agree. I think you need to start putting yourself first, Harry.” “I wanna live here. I wanna be with you. That’s what I want. That’s me putting myself first. Being here is my happiness, I know it. You’re my happiness.” I had tears in my eyes. My heart was beating out of my fucking chest. “You’re coming home.” I quivered. “I’m coming home.” He confirmed, eyes misting over once more. My delight was so monopolizing, such a force to be reckoned with. Harry and the love we shared was my eschatology, proving that I had found what I needed and I no longer had anything to seek in order to make my life better. He was the finale, the end of it all, the highest form of heaven that I could reach. All my life, I had heard people say that love was blind, but being with him proved that to be untrue. Love is not blind, it is all-seeing, attuned, all-consuming, intuitive, omnipotent, almighty, observant, controlling and compelling. Love was not blind nor ugly, as I had always known it to be. It had changed completely. And I had Harry to thank for that.

#Happy Bloody Sunday #it's the last chapter 😭😭#we're pretty much picking up where we left off #you might be waiting a longer than a week for the epilogue #so enjoy this #HBS49

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