#HBS50

[looselucy]

Epilogue

August 22nd – Harry’s POV Thirteen years of living with her, and I still wasn’t quite accustomed to how it felt to wake beside Alfie every morning.

Each day was met with this quiet elation, especially when I was lucky enough to wake up first, watch her peacefully slumbering. I would simply lay on my side and embrace those few moments of harmony, playing with her hair and not taking my eyes off her for even a second. It was exactly how I’d wanted to spend my Monday morning. It had been how I’d spent most of my mornings for thirteen long years. I’d only been back in Rosebury for three months before I asked her to move in with me. She had been adamant that we take things slowly, go about things as though it was a brand-new relationship, but I wanted to live with her so badly. She was round at mine most of the time anyway, so to me it had made sense to just ask. And though she said no the first time I asked, after a few more months of practically begging her, she moved into the home I had initially bought for my mother, and we made it our own just in time for Christmas. Thirteen years and I was still in awe of how it felt to wake in our bed, to know I had a life with her. I leaned into her, placing the softest kiss I could upon her lips in the hope of not waking her, but as I pulled away, I noticed there was a smile on her face, proving that I hadn’t quite managed it. She opened her eyes, the morning light unforgiving as she blinked in the new day. “Morning.” Her voice was sweet, fractured. “Morning, Fee. Happy Birthday.” “Oh shit. It’s my birthday?” She whined, turning her head into the pillow. “Yep.” I chuckled. “Another year older, still as beautiful as you were the very first time I saw you.” “What, in my neck-brace?” She looked at me again and laughed. “Well it’s not hard to be, is it?” “Fair point.” I snickered. “You still looked good though.” “You talk shit.” “M’serious!” She didn’t have to believe me because I knew it was true. Even with her neck-brace and her gym-wear on, nothing could have covered how beautiful she was. She caught my eye so quickly, and I knew she’d always thought that was because I’d spotted her injury, but I wasn’t sure that was entirely to blame. She went all shy, rushing to give me a peck on the lips before she went back into hiding, burying her pink cheeks into the duvet. “You should’ve stayed asleep. M���gunna make you breakfast in bed.” I said. “Hm.” She didn’t seem too impressed by the gesture. “What?” I queried as she revealed herself to me again. “Y’know what’s better than breakfast in bed?” She smiled. “Cooking breakfast with you.” That’s what I loved about her and our relationship. There was always this sense of teamwork, solidarity, cooperation, support. There was no more give than there was take on either end, we simply worked together as a unit and that was what made us happy. She knew that she’d get more pleasure from spending her time making breakfast with me than she would simply receiving the breakfast. There was more to gain that way. “Alright, let’s make breakfast together then.” “Kiss me first.” She demanded sweetly. “You needy thing.” I hushed, leaping to lay my body on top of hers and kiss her the way she deserved to be kissed; with every ounce of strength and love I had in me. It felt incredible to see her so bright, so happy. I could feel the way she smiled as I kissed her, something I didn’t think I could ever tire of. Every day with her felt exciting. We were settled with one another and our lives together, that much was clear, but there was an exhilaration there that I was confident would never fade. Maybe it was partly to do with the fact we’d lost each other at one point, like there was an appreciation there, an awareness of what life was like without the other, how bland and meaningless. Or maybe that’s just what happens when you’re with the right person. Maybe real love never loses its light. I kissed her until she was breathless, then swiftly I clambered off her, smirking and watching her whilst I grabbed our dressing gowns from the back of the door, throwing hers over her happy little face before putting mine on and fastening it tight. “C’mon then!” “Okay, I’m up, I’m up!” She cried, throwing herself out of bed and putting her gown on before she started chasing me out of the room. She caught up to me and grabbed at my hand, rearranging my fingers so that she could slot her own between them, my stomach still leaping due to the contact. Thirteen years, and my body still burst with giddy glee at the most minor of touches, everything from hand holding to how she would sometimes search for me in her sleep, her mind trapped in dreams and her physical form finding me, as though I was the embodiment of her subconscious fantasies. I loved the life I’d built with her. After she’d moved into our home, we spent some time debating over what we should do with her old apartment above the shop, and we’d eventually realised that our best option was to turn it into a gallery. I kept my most precious pieces there, the few I didn’t want to sell, and people would travel to Rosebury to see them, wander up into that small space and immerse themselves in what I regarded as my favourite pieces. It was a wonderful space. I still painted and Alfie still worked in her shop when she could, and other than those times where I’d need to travel for work, we spent most of our time together. Whenever we were apart it physically stung. I always rushed home to her. “You make the brews.” I grinned as we walked into the kitchen, lightly smacking her arse as she headed towards the kettle, laughing at how she squealed delightedly over my touch. In my younger years, especially my darkest years – at university and my first time living in New York, I hadn’t ever really thought about my future, how it might look, what I wanted. I had been so lifeless and lost that considering how things might be down the line had never been something that entered my mind. The only time I ever started thinking about the future was when I’d met Alfie. I should have known instantly that was because she would be the centre of my life from that point forward. From the very first fucking time we’d met, she had eclipsed my life then and every day since. I knew that wasn’t ever going to fade. I knelt down and opened the cupboard door ahead of me to get out all the necessary equipment. “So what do you fancy?” I asked her, continuing when she didn’t answer. “Summat little or Full English? I feel like we should go all out. With it being your birthday. Fee?” I turned to her, noticing her blank expression, the way she just stared forward like she’d seen a ghost, zoned out and empty. I dropped everything that had been in my hands, the pans and cutlery clattering on the floor as I practically jumped to her, standing in front of her in an attempt to grab her attention, snap her out of it. “Fee?” I tried again, but there was nothing. I really didn’t want to panic. I really didn’t want to expect the worst, but I could feel her fading. I could see a haze clouding her mind and taking everything away from her. I could fucking see it. The mug she had been holding fell from her loosening grip, shattered across the kitchen floor, and that’s when I couldn’t hold in my fear any longer. “Fuck, Fee, stay with me.” I grabbed at the side of her neck, pressed my forehead against hers, holding her as steadily as I could when she stumbled due to my strong hold, but she was still completely blank. “Please stay with me. Listen to my voice, okay? Listen to my voice, I don’t wanna lose you.” It wasn’t working. Slowly, she was fading away again, right before my eyes. Everything I loved about her, all our memories, all of who we were, just disappearing into nothing. My bottom lip began to tremble, fighting tears. “Alfie, do you remember who I am? Can you tell me my name?” She didn’t have an answer for me. She didn’t have anything other than the drop of her brows, which was almost an answer in itself. It told me she was confused, desperately searching for the correct, or any, response to my question, but she was unable to find one. It told me she didn’t know my name. It told me that her Alzheimer’s was flaring up once again.

2 years earlier… “No. No, that can’t be right.” Harry blurted from beside me, keeping desperate hold of my hand. “Please tell me that’s not right. She’s only thirty-six! That can’t be right!” “I’m really sorry.” My doctor replied simply. “I know you were both hoping for better news.” It was the worst-case scenario. It was the exact news we’d been dreading. It had started with really small things that Harry had noticed before even I had, how I would misplace things, struggle to find the right words. Then my memory really started to fail me, and even things like my vision took a hit, and that’s when Harry forced me to book an appointment with the doctor. I think he’d done that in the hope that we could rule Alzheimer’s out for good. But the opposite had happened. “Well… What can we do? How can we stop it?” Harry wailed as I sat in silence, attempting to let it all sink in. “I’m afraid there’s no known cure at this moment in time. But what I need you to do is have a good routine,” He addressed me. “Keep your mind active, and for now that’s all we can do.” “But-” “I’m sorry, Harry. Maybe further down the line if she’s having depressive episodes or struggling to sleep, there are things we can do and medications we can prescribe. But other than that, the best you can do is take it day by day and keep her happy.” I had no idea what to say. All I could do was hold his hand as tightly as I could, prove to him I was still there with him even though I couldn’t say a word. Maybe I’d been expecting the diagnosis in some ways. I knew it could be hereditary in some cases, so it was something I’d worried about sparsely since my mother was diagnosed, but then I’d always pushed it to the back of my mind, told myself that it wouldn’t happen to me. It was terrifying to have to acknowledge that it was already happening. “H-how long do we have?” Harry asked next. “It varies. You could have many, many happy years together. Just because she’s been diagnosed, doesn’t mean that it’s the end. Best-case scenario, this is the extent of it. It might not get any worse.” “And worst-case scenario?” Harry hadn’t needed to ask that. It had been a matter of months between my mother’s diagnosis and her moving into that home for assisted living. That’s all it had taken. Harry knew that already; I don’t know why he needed to hear it from my doctor. I guess it was disbelief more than anything. A refusal to face what we both knew. As scared as I was, I couldn’t imagine how that felt for him. If and when my mind began to truly disappear, I wouldn’t even know about it. Harry was the one who would have to watch it happen, to witness my demise, to lose me in the most painful way. He would be the one handling the most agonising repercussions of my illness and that made it even worse. I didn’t want him to go through that, ever. I couldn’t imagine how he felt then, having to acknowledge the possibility that in just a few months’ time, I might not even be able to recognise him. “Maybe… a few months…” My doctor managed to say, before Harry broke completely, dropping his head into his free hand and sobbing. And still, I sat in silence, hoping I had more time than my mother had, hoping that this illness wouldn’t be something that ruined Harry’s life as well as mine. I hoped he could be more selfish than my father had managed to be, but I knew he wouldn’t be. It would be history repeating itself all over again. I kept tight hold of his hand as he wept, still unable to find any words to share. I was terrified.

I opened the door to Robert, saw the way his smile dropped as soon as he’d noted the exhausted look on my face. He had planned to come around and spend the day with his daughter on her birthday, but he could tell instantly that he wouldn’t be so lucky. The sun was no longer shining, dark clouds hanging so low I thought they might be touching the tops of the trees that surrounded our home. It sometimes felt as though the sun couldn’t shine without her. “How is she?” He asked before he could even greet me. “Not so good.” I answered, stepping aside to welcome him. “What’s happened?” He asked as he entered, taking off his coat. “I dunno, I just lost her.” I tried to stay calm, to hold in my tears. “She was fine and then she just… She just disappeared.” “Where is she now?” “She’s upstairs sleeping.” “Okay. We’ll leave her to it. Hopefully she’ll wake up feeling more like herself. Let’s have a cuppa, eh?” I liked having Robert around. He understood my situation better than anyone else, though I’d gotten much luckier than he had with Rita. It had been over two years since Alfie was first diagnosed, and most days she was okay. It wasn’t often she completely vanished like she had that morning, whereas Robert had all but lost his wife in a matter of weeks. Rob was never condescending, he never compared my situation to his, and as agonising as it was losing my Fee that way, I could never imagine how he felt. To have lost his wife to that disease and now his daughter, I couldn’t even comprehend it. To have had to witness them both slowly fading away. He always remained resilient, positive, trying to make the most of the horrific hand he had been dealt. No one had my respect in the way he did. “You sit yourself down, son.” He demanded once we were in the kitchen, heading towards the kettle. “Talk to me.” “I… I don’t even know what to say.” I sighed. “It’s good to talk. Not so easy, but good.” He knew I wasn’t much good at talking. Alfie had always been the person I wanted to talk to, the person who I was most comfortable expressing my feelings to. When it came to everyone else, it didn’t come quite as naturally, even after all the therapy I’d had over the years. Fee had helped me to see that just because I’d stopped seeing my therapist in New York didn’t necessarily mean I should stop altogether. So, after moving back to Rosebury, I did some research and travelled fortnightly to our closest city to see a therapist, to continue learning and growing. I’d done that for a few years, until I truly felt in my heart that I was ready to stop. I knew how beneficial talking was, even though it was difficult. I couldn’t talk to her, not about this. I had to confide in someone else. Robert was the best person for that. “I’m angry.” I admitted, ignoring his instructions to sit down and instead washing up the items I’d used that morning, still making breakfast in the hope of bringing her around, but I’d failed. “Okay. Angry about what?” “So many things. I’m angry on your behalf. Aren’t you pissed off?” I asked him. “Uh… I try not to be. But… sometimes. Yes, sometimes it makes me angry.” “You don’t fucking deserve this. No one does, but least of all you.” I rambled. “And doesn’t it piss you off the way that people try to… own things that are fucking traumatic?” “What do you mean?” “When something bad happens, somewhere or to someone… people really latch onto it. They use it like it’s their own. Talk about how well they knew them. Or how they’d been somewhere where something bad happened, y’know? You wanna see the way Chloe talks about Alfie. They haven’t been close for years and yet Chloe talks about her like she’s lost her best friend and it makes me so fucking angry. Like someone else’s pain is her opportunity to gain some sympathy, it’s fucking twisted.” “Mm.” “People try to own trauma for their own gain, and I keep seeing that happen with Alfie and it makes me so, so angry.” Tears began to fall, my voice began to quiver. “Bu-but when you encounter real fucking trauma, that’s when you know you don’t want anything to do with it. You want to stay as far away from it as fucking possible, you don’t wanna fucking claim it and draw yourself towards it. Why the fuck do people do that? I don’t fucking want this.” I lay my hand on my chest, crying heavily. “If people want that pain so much, take all of it. I don’t want an inch of this, it’s fucking awful.” “I know it is. I know.” I loved Alfie with everything I was, everything I ever could be. She meant everything to me, and I would stick by her through anything, but it didn’t make our situation any easier. It made it harder, if anything. Some days I’d look in her eyes and see her fucking soul, but when her Alzheimer’s sparked that way I would see nothing at all, no sign of recognition, no love, no evidence of the woman I had been with and built a life with for so many years. The agony of looking into her eyes and seeing nothing was beyond any pain I had ever experienced in my life. That sort of loss is something I had never been able to imagine and would never be able to describe. And I was so frustrated by the way people had started using her as a pawn for attention and cruel compassion. Only a few weeks earlier, myself and Libby had been having a quiet drink in The Tin Mouse when we’d overheard someone talking about her, some lad who barely knew her, talking about how they’d been friends, how sad it was, talking about her mum like he knew anything. I was glad Libby was there to calm me down, tell me not to listen, drag me away from him. She’d had to lure me away from a fight that evening, my first in years. I was so close to snapping. No one can speak openly about things like that if they really hurt them. You don’t just nip down the pub and express your darkest sufferings, talk to whoever’s around you about it like it’s nothing. If they really wanted that pain, they could take all of it as far as I was concerned. “Pay them no mind.” Robert simply said. “You’ve got enough to worry about here without concerning yourself with how everyone else is dealing with it. Just focus on how you’re dealing with it.” “I don’t think I’m dealing with it well. I know I’m lucky. I know it could be worse, but like… even now, I miss her. I miss her so fucking much. I miss her presence. I miss her knowing my name. Because it’s not just her memories that go, it’s all of her.” “I know it is, Harry. I know.” “How did you do this?” I wept. “How could I not?” He simply stammered through a heavy breath, and it made perfect sense. It wasn’t necessarily this feeling of responsibility, like I had to do it because I loved her and I’d told her I would spend my life with her. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t that I felt obligated to stand by her, or that Robert had felt obligated to stay with Rita even when she reached the stage where she really didn’t know who he was. It was because I loved her. That was why there was no other option than to just do it, to face it head on, to be there with her and for her through everything. She was the person I wanted to spend my life with, whether or not that was a life she recognised or remembered, it was the life I wanted. She was the person I wanted. I had to stand by her through everything. How could I not?

12 years earlier… We swayed one way as the room swayed the other, my arms hung around Harry’s neck as he lay his hands on my waist and we stepped side to side slowly. “Look at ‘em.” He grinned, nodding towards the newlyweds. I looked to my left, the way Libby lay her head on Louis’ shoulder, a new place she could call home for the rest of her life. He just held her, the two of them dancing close-by, central to all the couples who were on their feet slowly dancing to Across the Universe. “M’so happy for them.” I sighed softly, laying my head on his chest. “Mm. I know. Me too.” He kissed the top of my head, the two of us dancing in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “Do you want this?” “Want what?” I lifted my head to look at him. “Y’know. Marriage.” He looked down. “All this stuff. Is it something you want?” I took a few minutes as I considered his question, looking around the room and taking in the sights, thinking over what we’d witnessed that day and what it all meant. As wonderful as it was, I knew my answer hadn’t shifted. As wonderful as Harry was, I knew I didn’t feel any differently about marriage than I always had. “Not really.” I answered honestly. “It’s a lot of fuss, innit?” “Yeah,” He sniggered. “If you look at it that way.” “I dunno. I guess it’s just another one of those things. I don’t have that desire in me. I don’t really want any of this. I mean… I want you.” I told him, noticed how he blushed like he wasn’t already well aware, gnawing his lip shyly. “But I don’t really need any of this additional stuff to prove anything, or confirm anything. M’happy just being with you, y’know?” “Mm.” “Unless… Unless you want this stuff?” “I don’t.” He grinned. “You don’t?” “No. If it was something you needed, then I’d have proposed in a heartbeat. Anything to be with you, anything to make you happy, you know that.” Now I was the one blushing. “But I feel the same way. I get why it means something to people, and I love that. But… maybe m’just one of those cynical people who thinks it’s just paperwork.” “I know exactly what you mean.” “I don’t need that to promise I’ll be with you through everything. I’ll just promise it. Out loud. I’ll… scribble on a piece of paper. I’ll paint it on every canvas I own.” He was making me laugh, in this weird way of endearment, somehow. “Because it’s definitely not through lack of commitment. That’s not why. I’m committed to you more than you’ll ever know. But… I don’t need this.” “I don’t either.” I loved that we felt the same way about it. It was like how we’d always felt the same way about not having children; it just made our lives so much easier. It’s topics and things like that which can ultimately tear couples apart, bring an end to good relationships. When there are fundamental differences in what each person wants and desires at their very core, it can break love down. We didn’t have to worry about that. We wanted the same things, felt the same way. Sometimes it truly felt like we were perfect for one another. “I promise I’m yours.” I whispered up to him. “And I promise I’m yours.” He whispered back. “Forever. Through everything.” It was so extraordinarily wonderful to hear that and not immediately question him or have any doubts. Since Harry had come back into my life, he had proven to me in every single way he could that the promise he’d made then was one he intended to keep. He had instilled this confidence in me that I might have thought was impossible during the earliest months of our relationship, taken away those doubts I’d had. I didn’t think he was going to disappear, I didn’t ever feel like I was trying to work him out or figure out who we were as a couple, I didn’t feel distant from him in any way. I had always thought the world of him, and he knew that, but there had been parts of our relationship that I really struggled with, things I wanted to change so we could be better and work better as a pairing. Those changes had been made. “I love you.” He told me quietly as we continued to dance. I closed my eyes, lay my head back on his chest, listened to the beat of his heart. I didn’t need any more of a promise from him than that.

By the early afternoon when Libby, Louis and Niall arrived, the rain outside was relentlessly unforgiving, meaning they’d driven the short distance to get to ours, but even the walk from the car to my front door seemed to have left them all drenched. “Uncle Harry!” Ronan squealed as he leapt up into my arms. Niall and Sean had adopted him only a few days after he was born, meaning the little lad had been brightening up my life for over three years. Me and Alfie had never wanted our own kids, but it was amazing to have Ronan there, a little one we could look after and love without that full, lifelong commitment that neither of us had ever desired. But there is something incredibly warming about children. Having him leap from Niall’s arms right into mine, to wrap himself around me like that, it was the first thing to make me smile for hours. We loved being Uncle Harry and Auntie Alfie. The three of them let themselves inside and took off their coats as I continued cuddling him, feeling comforted. “Y’alright?” I eventually asked them all. “Yeah, good.” Louis answered. “Where’s the birthday girl?” “Um… She… She’s not doing so good today.” “Shit.” He knew what I meant straight away, and unsurprisingly, his first concern was me. “You alright?” “Yeah, m’fine. Rob’s here, so… y’know. That helps.” “Is your mum coming?” “She’s here too. She’s upstairs trying to talk to Fee.” She’d arrived around an hour earlier and then gone upstairs to try and get some sense out of Fee about fifteen minutes before they’d arrived, but due to the fact I hadn’t heard a peep from either of them since, it didn’t seem like she was having much luck. My mum definitely saw Alfie as her own, the daughter she’d never had. They had this bond that I couldn’t describe, like they’d known each other their whole lives, like they connected on a level I couldn’t even see. I knew that had only deepened when Jack died. It had happened around four years earlier, when she’d received a call saying he was in a hospital not far from her. Despite everything, she called me and we had both rushed to him, forgetting all the suffering he’d put us through, all the bad things that had happened, the grief he’d caused. He was still her son and my brother. That was one of the few times I could clearly see just how strong love and forgiveness could be. It was the first time since I was a child that my family had felt strong in any way shape or form. We felt like a unit again, like people who wanted to help and heal one another rather than abandon and tear each other apart. But we’d lost him. He was only thirty-seven when he’d died. Jack’s lifestyle hadn’t changed much since we’d both seen him last, when he stole from me and my mum without either of us knowing, targeting the two of us in just matter of days. He’d still been in and out of prison, he was still on the dark path he’d chosen for himself and refused to step off, but that path had lead him into the belly of the beast. He’d crashed his car when fleeing a home he’d broken into, and though he’d put up a decent fight, two days after the accident his body had surrendered, and he’d passed away with me and our mum by his side. It had been so much more trying and upsetting than I could have ever anticipated. He’d brought me nothing but anguish for so many years, and he’d done nothing to change or better himself since before he’d even reached his teenage years, but we both still felt this inordinate guilt, similar to how we had when my dad Billy had taken his life. There was this unpleasant and unsettling sensation, that thought of what might have been different if we had done more for him, supported him more, helped him to help himself instead of wanting to run from him for our own sake. I wasn’t sure we would have ever been able to get through to him, but maybe there was more we could have done, but it was too late to ever know. Thankfully, this loss brought me and my mum closer together, unlike when my dad had died. I’d half expected us to shatter again, but we’d thankfully learnt from our mistakes and allowed the harm to bring us this new bond. We knew we couldn’t lose each other again, not after everything. We were the only part of our family left and we needed to cherish that in every way we could. “You lot get settled,” I sighed, handing Ronan back to his dad. “I’ll go check on them.” “Do you need anything?” Libby offered. “Nah, m’good.” “Tell her I’m here.” Niall forced a grin. “She’s bound to remember her favourite person.” Niall had always been soft, covering his insecurities and fears with humour, but he seemed to struggle that little bit more when it came to what was happening to Alfie. Even then, he’d tried to make some sort of joke, but I could tell how much it was actually breaking his heart. He didn’t cope well when she wasn’t herself. None of us did. They went through into the living room to join Robert as I headed upstairs to see how my mum was getting on, rushing up to our room to find Alfie sat on the edge of the bed and my mother crouched at her side. “Hey, look who it is!” My mum was overly cheery, trying to bring some life out of Fee, who sat despondently staring into the distance. “You know who this is, don’t ya?” I got down on one knee next to my mother, right in front of Alfie, catching her eye and her attention, smiling as brightly as I could and taking her hand in mine, acting like nothing was wrong even when I saw the way she looked over my face, trying so desperately to place a name to my face, trying to recall the millions of memories we shared, but it was as though they were no longer there. If death was the belly of the beast, that disease was the mouth, the enlarged jaw, the sharpened teeth, the thirst for blood and the saliva it drew. Losing her was like being devoured alive. I gave her the most encouraging smile I could, squeezing her hand. “C’mon, boss.” I tried. “I’m missing you. You wanna come downstairs? Everyone’s here to see you.” I wasn’t getting through to her. I could see it in her eyes that what I was saying did not make sense. She withdrew her hand so that it was no longer mine to hold, looking down to her lap. “M'sorry, I have such a bad headache.” She trembled. “Can I be on my own for a while?” “Fee-Fee-” I started to shake. “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling myself.” “I know.” I gripped her hand again, becoming frantic, even though I knew that wouldn’t help. “I know you’re not, b-but I think if you just came downstairs and saw everyone, you’d-” “When’s my mum getting here? I shouldn’t be here without my mum.” Tears poured over my eyes as rain crashed unremittingly against the windows in our bedroom, my heart breaking all over again. I just wanted her to go downstairs and talk to the people who had been in her life since she was a child, because maybe that would make sense to her. Maybe that would bring her back to me. I always thought back to the theoretical bookcases she had, what I’d learnt about Alzheimer’s when she’d first told me about her mum. It helped me to make sense of her mood changes, the things she said and the way she acted when she was going through a particularly bad spell. When things got bad, I would picture her bookcases in my mind. The bookcase on the left; old, feeble, holding her memories. And then the bookcase on the right; strong, secure, in charge of her emotions. Every time she vanished that way, I took it as though an earthquake had hit, rocked each case, and the books on the left had fallen from their place, leaving her with only the option to pick books from the lower shelves. She seemed to be talking as though she was young, like her mum was still alive and should have been there with her holding her hand through this. She was lost and confused and sad and it killed me to see her like that. That was why I wanted her to go downstairs, talk to her friends, talk to the people who had been in her life since she was so small. Her and Louis had known each other since they were babies, and if her mind could only pluck at her earliest memories, I knew that he would be there. And if he was there that might calm her and that might keep her happy, which was the most important thing. Nothing mattered more than keeping the bookcase that shelved her emotions filled with books of joy and content, even if she didn’t remember where they’d come from. I wanted to bring her back to me. I just wanted my Fee-Fee back.

13 years earlier… During his first few weeks back in Rosebury, Harry hadn’t really made himself known. We’d stayed sort of cooped up in his house, figuring things out, falling in love all over again, catching up with one another and deciding how our relationship should look moving forward. But over the past week or so, he’d started to reintroduce himself to our little village, make himself at home again. He’d been to the pub with everyone, told them he was planning on moving back, that he even wanted to start running his classes again. That night, the two of us were in The Tin Mouse, sat side by side, waiting for everyone to arrive so we could break what I felt was some of the most important news Harry had to share with everyone. “Lincoln’s gunna hate me.” He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “He won’t. He’s not like that.” “Y’know… me and Lin proper got on when I first moved here. Proper got on. But then as soon as I clocked on that he liked you, I got all weird about him.” He turned his head and looked at me. “I dunno why I’m like that. I don’t wanna be like that. And I don’t want him to hate me.” “He kinda already knows, y’know. About us, I mean.” “He does?” “Yeah. He guessed before you came around to mine that morning, when he was there.” “When I told you I loved you?” “Mm.” I nodded. “And Louis knows. I mean, they don’t have a clue we’re back together now, but they know we were together when you lived here before.” “What about Niall and Libby?” “Clueless. I mean, both of them had little inklings back in the day, but nothing more than that.” “They had inklings too? Shit.” He huffed, picking up his pint and taking a sip. “We really mustn’t have been as sly as I thought we were. Like, I thought we hid it well.” “M’not too sure.” I chuckled. “Maybe it was too big to hide.” He acknowledged profoundly, then snapped. “Also, I go proper doe-eyed when I look at you, which is probably very noticeable.” “You should try and get that under control.” I smirked. “Trust me, I’ve tired.” He grinned. “It’s impossible.” I leaned towards him and kissed his cheek, which spurred him to turn his head and grab my jaw so he could pull me back to him and leave a luscious kiss upon my lips, lingering his love upon my pout. When he pulled away, he looked at me with those exact eyes he’d just been speaking about. I couldn’t wait to tell everyone about us. I couldn’t wait for everyone to know and to finally be in a relationship that wasn’t happening behind closed doors. What I had with Harry was the most magnificent thing I had ever experienced in my life, I was bursting to talk about it with the enthusiasm and joy it deserved. I didn’t want to admit it to Harry, but I was pretty apprehensive about Lin finding out too. I imagined he already had an idea since Harry was moving back, and the same could be said for Louis, but everything that had happened with Lincoln was still really fresh. He didn’t have a bad or bitter bone in his body, I knew that, but it was bound to be strange for him. He was the first to arrive, stepping into the pub only a few moments after mine and Harry’s kiss, but I was glad he’d caught us in a less compromising position. I’d asked him to get there a little earlier than the rest, just so we could tell him without the others being there. As soon as he saw us, his face dropped somewhat, before the door had even closed behind him. He knew. I shot an encouraging smile his way, noticing the way he took a deep breath in as though to prepare himself, before he came over to our table, sat himself down across from us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Harry drop his gaze, looking down to the table rather than at him. It seemed like this was in my hands. “You okay?” I asked Lin. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He sighed. “How’re you two?” “Yeah, we’re fine. We just kinda wanted to… chat to you.” “Yeah. I think I know what it’s about.” He sniggered dejectedly. Harry still couldn’t look at him. I should’ve known he’d be like that, all defensive and jealous and ridiculous until it got down to actually facing Lin, acknowledging his feelings. Harry wasn’t a bad person; in fact, he was incredibly caring when it came to others, incredibly conscious of other people’s feelings. He was good at picking up on things and going out of his way to make others feel better. It was why he’d always been so good with those self-defence classes. Beyond the jealousy, when it actually came down to Lin and how he was feeling, when it actually came to sitting down in front of him that way, Harry’s anger and arrogance was nowhere to be found. “M'sorry, I hate doing this, it feels so weird, but after everything’s that’s gone on recently, I feel like I should.” I got straight to it. “Me and Harry have been talking a lot since he came back and figuring stuff out and… we really wanna try and… make this work.” “As in… you’re getting back together?” “Yeah. We… We have a lot of history, and we-” “Yeah, I uh… I saw that coming.” He smiled. “As soon as Harry said he was moving back, I figured. It’s fine.” “I just-” “Alf, as long as you’re happy, that’s the main thing.” He interrupted, but I actually felt the main thing he wanted right then was to avoid the weird sympathy we were giving him. I imagined that didn’t make it any easier for him. “Look… I-I knew it was a risk when I asked you out and I wasn’t expecting it to work out, genuinely. It would have been a bloody miracle, to be honest. I just wanted to try, and we did, and it wasn’t meant to be. I’m not mad that you’ve found the person that’s gunna make you happy, Alf. I’ll find that too. It’s all good, I promise, you really don’t need to explain yourself to me or worry about me. As long as you’re both happy.” Harry lifted his head, scoped Lin out for a few seconds before he turned his head to me. “Are you seriously picking me over him?” He was somewhere between joking and being completely serious, forcing a laugh out of both me and Lin. “I feel like that’s a poor decision on your part. He’s a better man than I am.” They finally looked at each other, sharing a smile, this strange acknowledgement that I couldn’t quite understand, but it seemed like a positive thing. “I’m sorry.” Harry said to him. “Don’t be. It’s all good.” “And if I was ever off with you or anything-” “You were.” “Yeah, I know, shit.” Harry shook his head, smiled awkwardly. “I’m sorry. It’s just because… I just love her so much.” “Then don’t fucking leave again, alright?” Lin grinned, reaching his hand across the table. “You won’t find a better girl if you do.” “M'not going anywhere.” Harry reached back, the two of them shaking hands over the table. I imagined Lin wanted to forget the whole thing, frankly. I really hated the thought of him regretting asking me, but looking at how it had all unfolded, I couldn’t blame him for just wanting to forget that he’d ever proposed a date in the first place. As long as he was alright, that was all I could hope for, and he seemed to be. It seemed more than anything, he just wanted to move on. He and Harry got chatting, returning to normal, the atmosphere much nicer than I’d been anticipating, but I really shouldn’t have been surprised. They were both just incredible men, I was lucky to have them both in my life. Not too long later, the rest of them arrived. Louis and Libby hand in hand, with Niall close behind, shooting a wink to Sean behind the bar before they came over to the table. “Right, what does everyone want to drink?” Niall offered. “I’m going to the bar to flirt with Sean, so I might be a while getting the drinks back to you, but still. It’s the thought that counts.” “Mate, it’s barely the thought that counts when your thought is that you want to go to the bar to flirt with Sean. You don’t wanna get us drinks!” Lin laughed. “You make a fair point, Crosby. I barely wanna sit with you lot, to be honest. I just wanna sit at the bar and make eyes at him all night.” “Okay, before you do that then,” I yelped, wanting to keep him with us. “Can you sit down for a second? I’ve got some news.” Louis’ eyes lit up in a second. I hadn’t told him exactly what had been going on, but the last time I’d spoken to him about it properly I’d said I was going to go and talk to Harry, and since then I’d been very coy about the whole thing. He’d have been a damn fool not to figure it out, but he’d given me my space to let me announce it in my own time, and I could tell from the giddy look on his face that he knew that time had finally come. Libby didn’t look so excited. “What’s happened? Are you okay? Do I need to kill someone? Who hurt you?” “Lib, it’s fine, it’s nothing like that. Just… sit down a second, I’ll tell you.” They all pulled up a stool and sat themselves down, Harry tensing beside me. These were incredibly unfamiliar waters for him to be treading. Harry had lived his life in lonesome shadows he had created, hiding in the darkest corners he could as a way of protecting himself. He wasn’t used to being open about any section of his life, especially a part as intricate and evocative as love. Though it was clear the therapy he’d experienced since he’d left had helped him, there was a difference between him being open and honest with me, someone he’d been so close to and shared with before, compared to sharing such delicate truths with everyone else. This was new to him, it was bound to be scary. I reached for his hand beneath the table, squeezed it tightly. Eager little faces awaited the news I was about to break. “Okay… so… as you all know, Harry’s moving back.” “Woo!” Niall cheered. “Cheers, Niall.” Harry grinned and winked at him, laughing a little. “And uh…” I tried to continue. “I guess I’m kinda extra happy about it, because… Well, before he left, me and Harry-” “WERE YOU FUCKING?” Niall screamed, interrupting the entire pub as he did, cringing and then turning to address our fellow pub-goers. “Apologies! Excuse my French.” I had to drop my head onto the table, everyone else trying to hold in their laughter in an effort to show a little respect to the old blokes who were sat drinking and genuinely unhappy with Niall’s language. “For fuck sake, Niall!” Libby scalded. “Keep your voice down! If you wanna yell shit like that, we’ve gotta spend more time at The Royal Rose.” “I’m right though, aren’t I?” He pretty much ignored her, eyes darting between me and Harry. “Tell me I’m right?” “We were together.” Harry worded it much more eloquently. “SHUT THE FUCK UP, NO YOU WEREN’T!” Libby yelled. “Oh my god, Libby, shh!” I cried once I’d whipped my head back up. “Who needs to go down The Royal fucking Rose now, eh?” Niall huffed. “Sorry, everyone! Sorry!” Libby bellowed around the room before she turned back to us and whispered harshly. “Were you really?” “Yeah.” Harry smiled. “Were you in love?” “We were. We are.” “Alfie! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” “Sorry, we didn’t tell anyone.” I shrugged. “But that’s why we’ve kinda gathered you all, because… well, now Harry’s moving back… we’re getting back together. I mean… we’re already back together.” “Knew it.” Louis smirked. “What do you mean you knew it?” Libby turned to her fiancé and gave him death eyes. “Did you know about them being together last year?” “Sorta.” “Wow, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. The wedding’s off.” “What? I’m good at keeping secrets! If anything, that should make you want to marry me more! I’m very trustworthy.” The two of them started sweetly squabbling between themselves, Harry and I moving our attention across to Niall who still had questions. “So, wait… you two are serious about each other? It wasn’t just sex?” “Nah. It was never just sex.” Harry said, to my surprise. I didn’t know why he’d said that, but I wondered if he might have done it as a way for compensating for the things he’d said to me when I’d told him I loved him the first time and he’d told me he only saw us and our relationship as sexual, nothing more than that. But knowing what I knew then, being aware of how he actually felt about me, maybe he really hadn’t ever seen it as just sex. Maybe I hadn’t either. Maybe we’d always meant more to one another than we’d known. “That’s wild. Why’d do you leave? Did you break up?” “Uh… Sort of, I guess.” Harry choked. “But that’s not gunna happen again. This is it now. It’s me and her.” Niall was beyond excited, happily asking Harry every question he could think of, even the ones he must have known Harry would find awkward to answer, but he answered regardless. It was yet another way I could see Harry stepping up for me, doing things and removing himself from his comfort-zone because he knew it would make me happy. It was nice that I knew it would make him happy too, he merely needed to get used to the change. We both did. Being in an open relationship with Harry was going to be different, but I’d never been so excited about anything. Our future seemed, so, so bright.

“Harry!” Louis’ voice was loud, sending shockwaves through my body as I bolted upright, cursing, my heartbeat racing. I looked around, agitated and anxious, noticing we were in the reading room, noises coming from the distance proving I still had a good number of visitors. Thunder and lightning crashed outdoors, light splitting the dark skies whilst the thunder bellowed its dominance as I came back around, a little woozy and lost for a few moments but gradually, things came back to me. I could recall I’d gone in there to give myself a bit of space after me and my mum had tried to speak to Alfie, but I must have nodded off at some point. “You alright?” He was concerned. “Uh…” I was still half asleep, my hands resting firm on the chaise beneath me as I gathered myself, reintroduced myself to the literal world. “Yeah, sorry, m’fine. Sorry.” “Don’t apologise, mate. I can’t imagine how you feel.” I budged up and tucked my knees closer to my chest so he could sit himself down at the end of the chair. Louis had become for me what he was for Alfie. Since I’d moved back to Rosebury, we’d gotten much closer, and he possessed this aura that made him incredibly approachable. Sharing felt easy when it came to Louis. Alfie had always used him as the person she went to when she needed to talk about anything, and I felt a similar way. He could sense that I needed to talk. “Sorry our little ones aren’t here.” He started gently. “They’re getting harder to control now they’re older. They’d rather spend the day with their grandparents on the farm than with us.” “It’s alright. Kinda feel like… the less people the better.” “Mm, I bet.” It wasn’t long after their wedding that Libby told us she was pregnant with Ben, their eldest. A couple of years later, they’d welcomed Amelia to the world, two more kids who referred to me and Alfie and their auntie and uncle. They were good kids, but how could they not be with their parents? “You’re handling all of this really well, Harry.” Louis was kind, encouraging. “Better than most people would.” “The thing is, I’m lucky right now.” I rubbed over my eyes. “With Fee… this isn’t happening often. This is the second time this month, and that’s the most it’s been since she was diagnosed, y’know? She struggles with the little things, and small lapses, but this sort of thing is rare, and I’m so, so lucky that that’s the case two years after her being diagnosed. It could’a been so much worse.” “It could, you’re right.” “But when this does happen… I can literally feel myself falling apart. It fucking kills me. To know she looks at me and… she see’s nothing. It’s agonising. It’s a physical pain, I can’t describe it.” “She doesn’t see nothing, Harry.” He tried to comfort me. “She might be a little lost, but you’re there, deep down. She could never look at you and see nothing, I know how much you mean to her.” I hoped he was right. I knew I’d comforted Alfie with similar words when it came to her mother, and I’d meant it, but it was so much more difficult to see that as the truth when I was so directly involved, when it was me losing the love of my life. “It’s probably gunna get worse. How am I gunna cope when it gets worse?” I asked him rhetorically. “We’ll be here for ya, the whole time. Whatever you need from us, whenever you need it.” I knew he was telling the truth, and it was incredibly comforting. “And maybe your luck won’t run out. Maybe this is how it’s gunna be for her, maybe she won’t deteriorate more than this. Don’t write her off yet, you know how strong that girl is. She’s got a hell of a lot of fight in her.” I’d barely realised I was smiling over his words, nodding. He was so right. She had so much strength in her, I’d known that since the second we’d met. She’d never really been able to see it herself, but she had such a desirable sustainability, this power and fire in her gut that had seen her through some really difficult times. I loved every part of her, every inch of her body and every piece of her soul, but that strength was something really special, something that had always drawn me to her in ways I couldn’t fight. “You gave her some really incredible years, Harry.” “But I want to give her an incredible life.” I explained exhaustedly. Her Alzheimer’s had made it seem as though that was no longer an option, that any life I could provide or that we could build would be lost, either in the depths of her mind or quite literally, if she maybe had to go into care as her mother had. I’d struggled to understand Robert when I was younger, when I saw what he did for his wife, the way he upped and moved to be with her, altered his whole life to be at her side, but now it was happening to Alfie I completely understood it. It no longer seemed preposterous, it no longer seemed like something completely heroic that he’d done. It was the only option. If I had to, I’d do the same thing, I knew that without a shadow of a doubt. But I wanted to keep her at home for as long as I physically could. I wanted to give her a life full of love, a life worth fighting for. “You still can. You will.” Louis smiled. “Do not waste these years worrying about losing her completely when she’s still here. I know it’s easy for me to say that, and with how she is today… it’s fucking awful. She’s my oldest mate, it hurts me too. But right now, like you said, this is rare. So fucking cherish her whilst she’s here. Do whatever you can to keep her here. Think of ways to bring her back. If anyone can do it, you can. I have every fucking faith. Don’t start to let go when she’s still holding on.” He commanded. I nodded, absorbing his words in every way I could. There was something incredibly special about the love between me and Alfie. When I’d fallen in love with her all those years earlier, she’d made me realise that love could truly do some remarkable things. I had to hope that love could keep her with me for many years to come.

9 years earlier… I wrapped the towel tighter around my frame as I anxiously approached the red curtains, nervously hiding from Harry who sat in room ahead of me, canvas and colours all set up in preparation, sun setting between the trees, exactly how he’d wanted it to be, the light breaking into the room and projecting the most fascinating shadows. I peered through the small gap in the curtains, not moving any closer. “C’mon, Fee-Fee. I’ve seen you naked a million times.” He said without turning to look at me. “This is totally different!” I cried. “It’s not!” “It is! This is nude! Which I feel like is not the same as naked.” “It’s exactly the same.” He cackled. “It’s different! It’s a different sort of experience entirely. No one’s ever painted me nude before.” “Good, I should fucking hope not.” He laughed. “This is my privilege.” “I feel really nervous.” “How can I make it better?” “You can’t, it’s not you, Harry! You make me feel very comfortable in my own body, there’s nothing more you can do.” I explained truthfully, standing in silence for a few seconds before I spoke up once again. “What kinda painting is it gunna be? Is it gunna be abstract, or are you gunna be able to tell it’s me?” Harry had been painting everyone of recent, actually asking them to sit for him. He’d already painted me plenty of times since we’d gotten back together, but he’d branched out, painting Louis, Libby, Lincoln and Niall. He’d even done one of his brother, though that hadn’t been in person. He’d gone off memory alone, but I knew he was hoping to reach out to Jack at some point, try to help him and mend their relationship again. It was just a matter of plucking up the courage and tracking him down. He'd even painted Chloe a few weeks back. Her and Sam had recently split up, which meant for the first time in years, she’d attempted to spend time with us all, get herself back into the group, but things had changed. It almost felt as though it was too little too late. I had no bad feelings towards her, I’m not sure any of us did, the water had passed under the bridge years earlier, but it just hadn’t felt the same. It didn’t even feel genuine coming from her, like she’d only come back to us because she felt we were her only option. It was disappointing and it truly was a shame, but it just hadn’t worked. I think that was why Harry had wanted to paint her; not because of the friendship, but more the lack-thereof. But the thing with Harry’s recent work was that they had been varied in style. His older work was entirely abstract, pieces in which I’d barely been able to see myself even when he’d tried to point out exact features. His recent work wasn’t like that though, with some pictures being the most detailed portraits I’d ever seen, so lifelike it sometimes felt as though they could start talking. He kept them all in the gallery above the shop, a collection he continued to add to. “M’not sure yet.” He confessed. “Depends how I’m feeling once you’re in place. If you think it’s too detailed, I won’t put it anywhere. It’ll be your call when it’s done, alright?” With that confirmation, I finally felt comfortable enough to step into his most creative space, shuffling past him and heading over to the podium he’d set up, balancing my knee on it first so I could climb up and sit myself down as gracefully as possible, knees bent, legs to one side, body as upright and straight as I could make it, clutching at the top of the towel, holding it against my chest. I took a deep breath in, steadied myself, made one final request. “Will you make my nipples nicer?” “Your nipples are perfect as they are, idiot. I wanna paint you, not some idealised version of you. There’s nothing wrong with you right now, as you are. I promise.” Harry made sure his voice was warm, the sound alone making me feel at home, like I should be proud to just be myself. “Whenever you’re ready.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, tore the towel apart and then dropped it to the ground. The first thing I could concentrate on was the way he took a deep breath in, his chest swelling with the intake of air, like he needed to calm himself down as his eyes ran all over my body with care, slowly moving over every inch of me. I felt so exposed and yet it was overwhelmingly intimate too, like my body belonged to his eyes, like I would be invisible to anyone else. I was infatuated with the way he looked at me, because it was all there in his eyes, every emotion and every memory and every loving feeling he had towards me. After figuring out how to remain somewhat calm, he spoke. “Okay. Could you… have one knee up? Just lift your right leg, have your foot pointing right at me.” He instructed and I altered my stance accordingly. “And just link your fingers together and hold around your knee. That alright?” “Mm.” “Are you comfortable?” “Yeah.” “Good.” With that acknowledgement, he began, mixing a few colours and studying me in silence for a few moments before he put his brush against the canvas, proceeded to paint me. From what I could tell, from his point and with my position, my body would be both hidden and revealed. I imagined the shadows that were casting on me only added to the affect, and maybe that was why he’d chosen that time of day, when the sun was going down, when the world was glowing and yet infiltrated with tenebrosity. He had a vision, and I was the centre of it. Strangely, I’d predicted that I would be totally conscious of the time, that the clocks in my mind would strain and my body would ache and tire with speed, but that didn’t happen. Though we didn’t speak whilst he worked, the time flew. Occasionally, he would purposefully catch me eye, smirk at me, bite his lip, probably as a way of easing me, because when he did that, I’d notice my body relax even though I hadn’t realised I had tensed. Harry knew me so well. He knew my mind and my body and my soul in ways that were way beyond my understanding. He saw things in me that I couldn’t, loved parts of me that I hated, understood conundrums within me that I could never comprehend. I loved him so much. “You look amazing.” He said after almost three hours. “I-I dunno. Sometimes it feels like you’re the inspiration I’ve always needed. Proper little muse, aren’t ya?” I tried to keep hold of my position, stay quiet, not blush too much, but it was a complete honour to be his muse, the perfect stimulant for him to be able to create some truly beautiful pieces, none of which involved blood. Wine had been his calling for years, finding its way into most of his paintings, especially the ones of me. But he often got creative too, not always because it worked effectively as a substitute for paint, but as interesting addition. He used fruit juices, my perfume, put petals within his paints or blades of grass. He took his surroundings, pieces of Rosebury, and he made art. More time passed, Harry concentrating intently on each stroke as I slowly began to rearrange my limbs, but he didn’t notice until my legs were both dangling off the front of the podium, still facing him. “Alf-” He began, but I managed to stop him talking when I slowly opened my legs. That was how much confidence he could bestow upon me. I’d gone from being nervous to even walk in the room, to spreading my legs for him, letting him decide what he wanted to do with the woman ahead of him, whether that was painting her or otherwise. Harry looked almost dizzy, eyes transfixed on my core and plump lips parted. He stepped to his side so that the easel and canvas didn’t block an inch of me from him or vice-versa, so I mirrored him, dropped my eyes down to his crotch and saw how much he appreciated the sight. He was rock hard. I bit at my bottom lip, hoping to lure him closer to me, hoping I’d inspired him beyond the canvas. “You’re something else.” He was breathless, a look of amazement clouding his eyes. And yet he remained still, purposefully building the heat. I didn’t realise us saying nothing and not even touching could do that, but I was sure I’d never wanted him more. I had never felt such intensity between us. My whole body quivered the moment he finally snapped, storming towards me. His hands went to his belt as soon as he started walking, the jingling of the metal he was fiddling with sending shockwaves through my body. He was still working on it when he reached me, taking one hand and pulling harshly on my hair to make my neck snap back, forcing me to look up to him. His other hand continued to loosen the leather from the slack trousers he was wearing, the two of us panting even though we’d barely done anything, looking into each other’s eyes. I could feel his hand moving, hear the pleasing titter of the buckle rattling. That alone got me worked up, those two senses sparking a million sensations. Then before I knew it he’d pushed into me, so much force behind his hips that I almost fell backward before he pulled me back to him, shot his head down so that he could bite my bottom lip. His touch was strict, severe, strong. Even with my lip still gripped between his teeth, he managed to smirk, aware of how much power he had in those moments, but it was my power that had brought him to me. He let my lip loose, his hand moving from my hair to my jaw as he began to kiss me, surprisingly gentle, his hips beginning to wind, gradually moving in and out of me. I loved how he could feel so tough and unforgiving whilst also moving with such a gentle ease. I didn’t understand how he could be both and yet he was, and he was with ease. He was the light and the dark. The night and the day. The sun and the thunderstorm. The fighter and the artist. My fingers clung frenziedly to his t-shirt, possibly puncturing holes through the thin material, closing my eyes and breathing him in, barely able to kiss him with how ethereal I felt just being with him. “You feel so good. Fuck, you’re amazing.” He wheezed. I wrapped my legs around his, my heels digging into his backside, pushing my chest up and putting my arms behind me so I could keep myself propped up, Harry slowly taking his kiss away from my mouth trailing it down my chin and then over my chest, causing pretty palpitations that skipped through my body, his hands lowering to my backside and yanking me closer to him. Ever since the day I had seen his paintings for the first time in person, there had been this magnetism between me and his captivating work. Being around his pieces, touching them, breathing them in; it was fascinating and overwhelming and it always brought out such powerful emotions from me. So when I actually became a part of his art, that intensified, took all those feelings to an entirely different realm. That was one of the reasons I felt we had gotten carried away in such a physical sense. We connected when he painted. He took hold of my legs, curving his fingers behind my knees and gripping tight as he picked up the pace, head lifting so he could gaze down between our bodies, watch the way he worked in and out of me as I watched him, the way he bit his lip, even scrunched his nose, concentrating all his strength on me. I moved one hand so I could touch myself, stealing his focus. He watched my fingers move over my clit, the sight bringing new groans from him, and I could tell I was leading him to his finish. I knew all the signs, his giveaways. Nothing turned me on more than seeing him unwind that way. My moans were getting louder and louder, my eyes closing just a few seconds after I noticed a grin spreading across his lips, smug over my pitch, like he always was. “Oh fuck.” He seethed piercingly as he came, and I was able to feel the way his whole body trembled, the ripples riding against my heels and the parts of my legs that came into contact with him, moving my hand until he gasped. “Please finish. I wanna you feel. I wanna watch you.” So I moved my hand back, touching myself for those final few moments before it happened, Harry watching me in awe the whole time. As soon as we were both calm enough, Harry took my neck in his hand once again so he could bring me closer to him, kiss me with enough passion to knock me out completely. I slung my arms around his neck, feeling his smile grow against my lips. “I love you.” He gasped as we kissed. “I love you so fucking much.” “I love you too.” “You’re fucking bliss, I’m so obsessed with you.” He was rambling, spewing his thoughts, and it only made me smile more, my cheeks genuinely hurting even though I was still trying to kiss him back, butterflies in my stomach and rose tinted glasses perching on my nose and altering my vision. When our kiss ended, he stayed close, rubbing his nose against mine, closing his eyes and breathing steadily as I just watched him, just as obsessed with him. I stroked the backs of my fingers over his cheek, transfixed. “You make me so, so happy,” I whispered to him. “I feel like my heart is gunna burst.” “Nah, fuck that.” He sneered. “I need you. No heart bursting, please.” “I’ll try.” I giggled. “I make no promises though.” “I’d be lost without you. I’d hate it. Stay with me, okay?” “Okay.” He kissed me again, lightly gliding his tongue into my mouth, so tender with me I thought I might cry. I never wanted him to feel lost. I would always stay with him.

Everyone had stayed with me for a good few hours, keeping me company on Alfie’s birthday seeing as she couldn’t quite do that herself. Lin and his wife Jessica had shown up eventually too, all of them being upbeat in their attempts to lift my mood, and temporarily, it had worked to the extent it could. But then as soon as I had closed the door on them, all my sorrow had come flooding back. My only aim then was to make sure that Alfie was happy. That was why I’d thought up a plan. “Just follow me, okay?” I encouraged her, finally having gotten her downstairs, though I could tell she was still confused and wary of me. “Where’re we going?” She asked, tracking my steps as the two of us tiptoed through the living room. I was walking backwards so I could keep my eyes on her, conscious that she might cower or run at any second. She glued her eyes to me, as though she was slowly teaching herself to trust me, a flicker of recognition darting through her eyes. I smiled. “Alfie, I just wanna show you something. It’s something you’ll like.” “Uh-” “You can trust me, I promise.” “Ca-can I hold your hand?” At first, I couldn’t even find it within me to reply to her, in a state of shock that she’d even asked that of me. But what it told me was rousing. It told me that I wasn’t entirely a stranger to her. It reminded me that even when she couldn’t quite place me, there was a sense of trust between us that remained. Even though it wasn’t immediate or obvious, it was still there. “Uh- Fuck, yeah, of course you can.” I held my hand out for her to shyly slot her fingers between mine, almost bashful when she did, like it was the first time we’d held hands, like we were giddy teenagers who were dating one another. And I wondered then if that was how I should start viewing it, when her Alzheimer’s attacked her that way. Maybe it would help if I started thinking of it as though I had to win her back and win her over, as though she was someone I needed to charm and woo, a girl I really fucking wanted but needed to earn. Slowly, I lead her through the kitchen and then into the conservatory at the back of the house. I took her to my paintings. Her pupils blew up in seconds, a new galaxy appearing in her eyes, looking around the room in wonder, gazing at all the art in there, the abundance of canvases that still sat in that room. There were paintings of her, paintings we’d done together, paintings of her friends and loved ones, paintings that had been in there the very first time she had been in there. It had the potential to be a really good space for her. She let go of my hand, unhurriedly exploring her surroundings. “Did you do these?” She enquired. “Mm.” “You’re talented.” “Thank you.” I nodded. Her fingers played over a painting I’d done of her, but she was clueless, unaware she was the inspiration behind almost everything she could see. Under the guise that she was a guest, she worked her way around the room like blood running through veins, oblivious to the fact that she was actually the beating heart. I didn’t want to tell her that she was a part of so many of the paintings she was looking at, because I didn’t want to obscure her reality and upset her. Sometimes it was just better to go along with however she was feeling, whatever she felt was real. She spent her time leisurely wandering and inspecting the work that grabbed her the most as I headed towards the prime piece, the painting I had wanted her to see most. Earlier, I’d propped it up against the back window, central, ready for her to inspect. I pulled the cloth that had been covering it away, hurling that tattered throw to the ground beside me. She was so engrossed she didn’t even notice. “Alfie?” I caught her attention, watching her spin on her spot. Her face dropped. I’d captured her attention entirely. It was the Blood Sun. Before my mum had left, I’d asked her to keep an eye on Alfie whilst I rushed to the gallery and grabbed the painting to bring back. Me and Louis had covered it to protect it from the rain before throwing it into the back of his car and getting it to mine and Alfie’s house as soon as we could, hoping for the best. That painting was hers. It belonged to her, and as its owner, I knew the emotional reaction she had to it and how that never tired. Every time I’d seen her around that painting, it had affected her in such severe ways, like it spoke to her, as though it could touch her both physically and mentally. My gut was telling me that connection would still be there. I watched her intently as she took steps towards the Sun, seeing the familiar look of awe that she always had when she was close to that painting, blinded and dazzled and struck with wonder. “It’s beautiful.” She whispered as she stopped ahead of it. “You… You should feel it.” I suggested. “What? Touch it? I can’t do that.” “Course you can.” I grinned. “It’s mine, and I say you can.” She stared at me like I’d gone mad, but I just nodded, willing her to do as I’d asked. She had this beautiful, dastardly look in her eye as she reached her hand outwards, the tips of her fingers only grazing the red for a moment before her hand retracted, like it had stung her. It was rather fascinating to watch her. Within seconds, she was touching it again, and I could see that her mind was whirring. I couldn’t even begin to guess what might be going on in her head, how she might be feeling, what she might be thinking. It might have been an entirely new experience for her, or it might have been shining a light to parts of her mind that had spent that day in darkness. I moved so I was standing right behind her, my body only an inch from hers, admiring the way she let her fingerprint distinguish the paint like brail. I reached out, lay my hand on top of hers, gently guiding her touch. She inhaled heavily, my touch affecting her, my stomach twisting. “Tell me how you feel.” I was quiet, hanging my head just over her shoulder, able to see the profile of her face. “I… I feel sad.” She explained. “There’s so much sadness here.” When she said that, I found my eyes looking at the hand that I had resting on top of hers, seeing the scars that were still so prominent, even after all those years. Looking back, I couldn’t even imagine feeling that way, being able to cut myself like I had. Seeing those scars reminded me of how lucky I was to have wound up with such a wonderful life, so full of happiness that harming myself that way was almost incomprehensible. Seeing those scars was a reminder of my current wellbeing. Alfie had helped me build that life, she had been the one that pointed out just how harmful my old technique had been, and that was why she’d always been able to sense the pain that would forever remain trapped in that painting. “But…” “But what?” I tried to spur her to say more. “There’s something else, I don’t know.” “Tell me. Just tell me how you feel.” “It’s like… home, and warmth. I… I don’t know.” “Like us.” I hushed. She closed her eyes, and I noticed a tear pool over, stream down her cheek. Something was happening. I was rapidly short of breath, keeping my eyes on her. “Fee? Please talk to me.” “I remember the first time I saw this in real life. I remember.” She trembled. “I remember the feeling. I remember crying.” “What else?” I begged, tears beginning to build in my eyes. I could hear my heart beating, observing her memory reform and construct in her mind, filling her drop by drop when all I wanted was for everything to flood into her consciousness again. I adjusted our hands so that I could squeeze hers, resting my forehead against her temple, whispering, pleading with her to search a little deeper. She took a shaky breath inward, overwhelmed. “Harry.” She whispered, and I thought I might collapse to the floor, simply hearing her speak my name. “Yes! Look at me.” I cupped her cheek, not pushing but trying to encourage her to turn her head. “Fee-Fee, please look at me.” She turned to her right, eyes sparking as soon as she looked into mine. She knew me. “Harry?” She questioned. “Holy fuck, Harry!” She scrambled so that she could wrap her arms around my neck, throw her body against mine and take me into her. I’d never held her so tight. Though there had been a few similar occurrences since her diagnosis, none had gone on for that long. I’d spent the entire day wondering if that was it, if she had reached her breaking point and her memory just wouldn’t come back. It was terrifying and excruciating. But she was with me. She was home. My body was frail, using all my might to hold her, but it was as though that meant strength was retracted from elsewhere, my legs giving way beneath me. I crumbled down to the floor, taking her with me, first landing on my knees and then falling back, Alfie straddling my legs, the two of us still gripping onto one another. I pulled my head back so I could look in her eyes, grabbing her cheeks. “Are you okay? Do you feel okay?” “Wh-what’s happened?” “I lost you. I lost you, I’ve missed you so fucking much. It’s been so hard without you. I hate it.” I sobbed, brushing some hair from her face. “How do you feel?” “I’m okay. I’m sorry.” She wept. “Don’t be sorry. You don’t have to be sorry, Fee-Fee. M’just so glad you’re back.” We kissed, another way of coaxing her back to me. I knew from previous experience just how disorienting it was for her, coming back around like that, I couldn’t even imagine how it felt. All I could do was talk her through it, be there for her, kiss her, remind her of her life in the kindest way I could. I kept the kiss brief then pulled away, eyes darting across her face and keeping her close. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked. “I’m fine!” She cried, clinging onto me. “Please don’t be upset, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Another horrific addition to her illness was the guilt she felt when she came back around. All she would focus on was my feelings, how it would have hurt me, as if it wasn’t fucking bad enough with everything else it did to her. She was strangely selfless about the whole thing. “Fee, you’ve gotta stop apologising to me, please. You’re here, that’s all that matters.” “I love you.” She wept. “I love you too. I love you so much.” I’d only recently realised the importance of being there for her when she found herself again. Every time, I was elated that she was back, and she was all I could focus on, but I had to be caring and present and not just break over how difficult I’d found it. I kissed her tenderly, breathlessly continuing to tell her I loved her at every opportunity, the words losing themselves upon her lips and swelling within in her mouth before hopefully finding their way to her heart. She was all that mattered. Doing everything I could so that she could find herself and fight that disease was all that mattered. I saw it as my responsibility to give to her and help her to sustain the best life I possibly could, and I wasn’t going to give up on that or give up on her. That disease was venturing to steal our happiness, and though it could gain temporary success, I refused to let it consume us entirely, to rob us of the sublime life we had created. Our love had more fight in it than any disease ever could. “I missed you.” I shuddered when our kiss soothed. “When I touched the Sun… It’s like I saw your face.” She enlightened me. “I saw your face and heard your voice and you were telling me you loved me and then everything started coming back to me. Everything.” Though I had been there physically, it was her mentality that had needed to alter, to shift and shake and align once more. When she had touched the Blood Sun, I had re-entered her mind and memories, my voice calling upon her soul and willing it back to the present. I could never underestimate the power of us. I could never underestimate the power of her mind and just how engrained I was within it. “You were there. You brought me back.” She whispered, laying a loving and gentle kiss upon my lips. “You brought yourself back.” I told her. “You’re so fucking strong, Fee-Fee. Keep fighting it.” “I will, I promise. As long as you’re here-” “M’always gunna be here, Fee. You know that.” She dropped her head. “Hey!” I placed my thumb beneath her chin, lifted her head back up so that she was forced to look into my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens, I’m yours. I’m here. We fight this together, okay?” “Promise?” Her bottom lip quivered. “I promise. It’ll always be us. Just me and you.” “Just me and you.” She repeated back to me. She needn’t fear that I might leave, that I may tire of the tumultuous routine of our lives, that her illness wouldn’t merely steal her memories but it would eventually take me from her too. She didn’t need to worry for even a second. I wanted to be her support system. I wanted to be her life, her lover, her confidant, her centre. No matter how difficult things got, even if one day she disappeared indefinitely. I would never love another person the way I loved her, no person would ever compare to her, no life would ever come close to the one we had. I was with her, skipping through fields during the days of sun or sailing with her through the eye of the storm. It was just me and her through everything, always. That was my promise.

[looselucy]

NO WHY DID YOU HURT HARRY LIKE THAT HE"S ALREADY BEEN THRU SO MUCH!

I KNOW IT CAN SEEM THAT WAY AND IT’S AWFUL AND I KNOW MY BABY HAS ALREADY HAD AN AWFUL TIME, I KNOW THAT, BUT THERE’S ACTUALLY SO MUCH GOING ON IN THE BACKGROUND OF THIS CHAPTER!

Even though we see him hurting so much, we actually see how different he is from the earlier parts of the story. He’s talking about his feelings openly, and not just with Alfie. He talks to Rob. He talks to Louis. THAT’S FUCKING HUGE FOR HIM!

He’s got his mum back and he has a good relationship with her, Rob calls him son, he’s with Alfie - He has the family that he needed. He has those bonds that he lost when he was a teenager and then even more. He’s fucking SURROUNDED with love. The Harry we first met hadn’t experienced any form of love in years.

I dunno if you picked up on the fact I put a storm in there and he wasn’t afraid. HE’S NOT AFRAID!

And this is the boy who left Alfie the minute she said she loved him. And now he is sticking with her through anything and everything because that fear he had has totally gone. He can finally accept and give love without ever talking himself out of it or feeling like he’s not worthy.

I know to look at the surface it can seem like it’s all doom for Harry, but it’s really fucking not. This is the probably the best mental state we’ve ever seen his character in, and I think that’s such an important thing to take from the epilogue.

[looselucy]

Oh I cried and cried when I read that last chapter. The fact that Alfie was diagnosed with the same disease as her mom was such a shock and also heartbreaking. I’d love to hear how you made that decision from a plot perspective, what made you want to explore that for them as a couple. I love all the writing processes! It was such a beautiful story and I hope you feel proud of yourself! 🖤🖤🖤

I had sort of gone into this story not wanting to give the typical happy ending anyway. I felt I’d done that a lot and I wanted to explore a different sort of ending so not all of them looked similar, and I wanted to challenge myself and try something new, so it was always on the card for these characters I guess. I knew that Alfie’s character would have Alzheimer’s before I even knew her mum would, that came second as I developed the story if I remember correctly.

But even though I knew it would be sad, I also really wanted to show how strong their love was and how they are stronger than any illness. And for Harry’s character especially, who is actually in such a strong mental position in this chapter even with her being ill. He’s talking and he’s loving and he’s open with his emotions and he’s not backing away in fear like we’ve seen him do throughout the story. To say it’s a sad epilogue there’s so so much happiness and good stuff beneath the surface and I loved writing it that way, it’s been so so interesting.

Thank you for everything. I love you lots and lots.

[looselucy]

Everyone is saying how the ending is sad but... I actually felt really happy reading it. Like yes, of course it’s awful that Alfie is sick so young, but most of the time, she and Harry are happy and together! For all we know, her dementia won’t progress quickly. Maybe they’ll have many many MANY more years of happiness. Ultimately though, HBS was about accepting love... and that’s exactly what happened for Alfie and Harry. Perfect ending.

[looselucy]

Forgetting has literally been an entire fucking theme throughout the story like LUCYFER I SHOUKD HAVE KNOWN

When I titled all the “forgotten” chapters, it always made me think towards the epilogue what that represented. They were all titled with the epilogue in mind.

12/ The Forgotten Lane - Where they live. 18/ The Forgotten Girl - It’s like that’s Alfie

28/ The Forgotten Family - That to me always felt like it was her with Rob and Harry in the epilogue. & 34/ THe Forgotten Boy - Harry specifically.

And then finally 44/ The Forgotten Feeling - And that for me was always about the Blood Sun and what that could do to her and how it could bring her back, bring all those feelings back. That’s why I titled that chapter that way, with it being the one where she finds it in the shop. It’s all to do with how it brings her back to him.

Those titles were always about the epilogue.

[looselucy]

LUCY OMG THE SHOCK I FELT WHEN I REALIZED SHE HAD ALZHEIMER’S TOO YOU JUST HAD TO FUCK UP THEIR HAPPY ENDING HUH? But I’m so in love with this ending it’s incredible and seeing the gang all happy and harry back happily with his mum and alfie’s dad ugh I’m so glad Alfie is alright most of the time. And also the way you said 13 years? That’s Haylor tea cause December 13th is Taylor’s birthday and the album release! Glad you are getting a well deserved rest now will you still be on tumblr tho?

I still feel like they got a happy ending in so many different ways. She might have that disease but she also has him and he has her. She could have been facing it on her own and he could have been lost in the same state we found his character in, but that’s not the case and there’s so much love and joy within that. As sad as it is that she’s ill, they’ve also got this wonderful love and life outside of that illness that it cannot eclipse and I think that’s what I really love about this ending. And all the other good shit that’s going on outside of that with their family and friends.

Yeah I’ll be about on tumblr here and there I’m sure 🥰 thank you so so so much for reading.

[looselucy]

hi I finally had time to catch up on HBS and I wanted to thank you for writing such a beautiful story. it means so much more to me than I could have anticipated when I first started reading it and the epilogue was especially devastating. my grandma has been getting worse and worse recently and reading the epilogue really made me see things in a new way and even though it was hard to read, it was also really healing. thank you for continuing to share your work. we don’t deserve it.

I literally don’t even know what to say. I am literally going through the same thing with my grandma and I think that’s why for me it felt sort of theraputic to write, but I never know how it’s going to read to other people. It scares me writing topics like this because I know how personal it can be for people, but I guess that’s why these things need to be written. All I can hope is that I’ve done some justice and handled it with care and honesty.

Sending love to you and thank you so so much for reading and being so lovely. Giving you big cuddles.

[looselucy]

Okay yes I feel like they got their own version of a happy ending now that you explained it! it doesn’t matter that she’s struggling because they have each other and their friends. honestly it would’ve been cute to see them with kids but I love how they’re just the cool aunt and uncle cause that’s who I wanna be for my sister/cousin’s kids: the aunt that has crazy stories and travels.Do you think if Alfie didn’t get Alzheimer’s that they would’ve had kids?Or it just wasn’t in the cards for them?

I would have never written them with kids, no. And that’s not just because Alfie can’t have children anyway. I dunno if you remember but I wrote about this Chapter 15.

But then also, not everyone wants kids. I don’t want kids. A lot of my friends don’t want kids. And I found myself questioning why they featured in the endings to my stories so often when that is not my happy ending - it’s not a lot of peoples happy ending. It was nothing to do with her being ill, it was entirely to do with the fact that these two just didn’t want children, y’know?

I felt that wasn’t as common as it should be in romantic fan-fiction and I wanted to write two people who were confident in the fact that children weren’t a part of their future and nothing circumstantial was going to change that. It’s just not what a lot of people want and I felt that needed to be written.

[looselucy]

(13)so beautiful to read😭😭😭 The last scene had me in literal tears, i couldn't breathe, the way Harry brought Alfie back through the one way they were connected in the first place was so poetic and yet so unbelievably sad. Harry's art and specifically the Blood Sun, is such a part of their lives and it evokes so many feelings between them, it's really beautiful that she could remember who she is and how much she loves Harry and the Blood Sun was such a moving,

13/ I’m literally an emotional wreck ewifuriuhgiuthg that scene is one of those that has been in my mind for such a long time and it was a relief to finally write it. I can only hope I managed to portray the emotions that I feel about the that moment and how those two are with one another.

[looselucy]

(10)fair Louis has also his own grieving to do, because Alfie was like a sister to him and they had spend a lifetime being friends. It literally breaks my heart. Also, the scene/memory at the Tin Mouse is so CUTE and how Harry was awkward and shy when he had to confront Lin and he had to apologize to him for being shitty and letting his jealousy show and Lin is such a wholesome person please, I love him a lot😭😭😭 And lol at Harry being surprised that their friends had caught on when yes indeed

10/ Alfie and Louis really were like brother and sister and I cannot even go into how much my heart breaks for Louis too. That could have been an epilogue in itself, just showing him dealing with it.

And I loved finally making things better between Lin and Harry, because ever since Harry suspicious of Lin’s feelings way back in chapter 22, he’s literally been like

Also YES HARRY THEY KNEW, YOU FOOL!

[looselucy]

(3)I loved everything about the epilogue and the glimpses between the past and the now and how they discovered Alfie had Alzheimer's was so damn heartbreaking and she had it for at least 2 years. I was so sad for them and Harry was so attentive to catch on that she had something and saw the signs and everything, but it's still so heartbreaking to watch it happen and he couldn't do anything to help the love of his life. And god, Alfie's dad is SO brave, he had to watch

3/ I AGREE, I FEEL LIKE THAT HAS NOT BEEN MENTIONED YET SO LET’S HAVE A MOMENT TO THINK ABOUT HARRY SEEING ALL THESE SIGNS AND MAKING HER GO TO THE DOCTORS. HOW WELL HE KNOWS HER, THE MINOR AND MAJOR THINGS THAT HAPPEN WITHIN HER! HIS LOVE FOR HER, IT’S TOO MUCH!

[looselucy]

an important question: do or did harry and alfie at some point have any pets?

A GREAT QUESTION! I can definitely imagine a few years after this epilogue Harry getting a dog, which he imagined at first would be wonderful emotional support and comfort for Alfie when she was feeling lost, but he hadn’t realised just how much he needed that love and support. And I imagine they bonded a lot and whenever Harry was sad, their little all black Cocker Spaniel would just go up to him and lay her little head in his lap, and he’d manage a smile and stroke her and he’d feel better and OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE I’M SO EMOTIONAL NOW

[looselucy]

What an astonishingly beautiful epilogue. HBS was the first story of yours I followed from beginning to end (rather than bingeing in one long evening like I did for BB and TFA) and it really is your best, in my opinion. PS- Alzheimer's sucks and I just donated to the Alzheimer's Association to hopefully work towards finding a way to end this disease.

I love that you fully went through the journey, thank you so so much! I bet it was so so different and I’m so glad you’ve gone through all the motions, I love that so much. And I love that you think it’s my best, thank you!

And you donating, honestly, when I first read this message I actually cried it got me so emotional. That’s such a wonderful thing to do, and to think I played any part in it with this story 😭😭😭😭 thank you thank you thank you

[looselucy]

I’m always sad when a story I like ends, but this time I’m happy that we got to see Alfie and Harry together for the long run. This was just the perfect ending. I also loved that you left it open about her illness. In my mind, things didn’t get worse and Harry learned how to deal with it better every time. It kinda blows my mind how you manage to structure this chapter so well. Like, the fact that its his pov in the present and hers in the past. +

2/ I love that you see it that way, and that’s totally what I want. I want it to be open and the narrative after this to be the readers to decide and view and create. I like that about this epilogue and the part of their lives that I showed.

[looselucy]

and finally the last scene of the epilogue, of Harry walking Alfie into the conservatory. Of Alfie taking in every single painting as if for the first time, for seeing the Blood Sun. This scene will stay with me forever, it still paints so clearly in my head, so beautifully. Who even needs to turn your stories into screenplays when you writing is strong enough to play these moments out as it's own film.

4/ STOP MAKING ME FUCKING CRY

[looselucy]

I’m just so grateful for your work! I’m glad I had the privilege of getting to know these characters. And to read about all these themes that you just don’t read much about in fanfic. And then in your devastatingly beautiful way?? I’m going to treat myself to rereading the whole damn thing as soon as possible. Thank you a million times over for making my Sundays and Wednesdays so much fun! All the fucking love and the kissies in the world to you my lovely Lucy!!!

9/ You’re such a fucking treat, thank you so so so so so much. You have been so amazing to me and I’ve loved having your here reading and I’m so thankful you’ve enjoyed yet another journey with me.

I love you. Thank you.