#TFA10

[aeonmagnus]

O_O

Transformers Animated 10th Anniversary.

[looselucy]

Christmas Eve

23 Harry was already up and dressing himself by the time my eyes opened to Christmas Eve. Regardless of the fact I had woken in the middle of the night when I’d heard his gentle whimpers, it felt like I’d had a pretty solid sleep. Waking felt natural, welcomed and easy. I watched as Harry buttoned up an extravagant, oversized blue shirt, flowers woven into the material, climbing up towards the top as though his head was the sun.

He watched me as I came around, stretching across the sheets and welcoming the day with a smile, because for some reason I felt good. I figured Christmas really was rubbing off on me, and the thought of being in the pub that evening, surrounded by old family friends, drinking mulled wine and Baileys, sent a warm trickle of glee across my body. “What time is it?” I groaned. “Eleven.” Harry replied. “Morning.” “Morning.” I rubbed the back of my hand over my eyes as I sat upright. “How long have you been awake?” “Not long.” He smiled. “Did you get back to sleep okay?” “Um, it took me a while, but eventually, yeah.” I watched him as he moved and sat at the foot of the bed, smiling to me as he did. I noticed quickly that Harry wasn’t quite as good at hiding how tired he was when he’d first woke up. His movements were slower, his smile weaker, his voice lower. I knew we were going to have to talk about what had happened at some point, but I really didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. I knew he would have felt bad enough already, and I really didn’t want to make it worse. But we couldn’t just not say anything. I knew that would be the one thing that was worse. He lifted his head and looked to me, like he was waiting for me to start the dreaded conversation. I tucked my knees up to my chest, the sheets still dense over me, my fingers trembling and twitching as I looked to him. I just didn’t know what to say. I hated myself for it, but I really didn’t know what to say. “So, you wanna head into town today?” I asked him. “I do. I want you to show me which street corners you used to get drunk on.” “What makes you think I used to get drunk on street corners?” I blushed. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” He shrugged. “I think it’s a part of our culture.” I was glad he had brushed past those awkward feelings so swiftly, because the last thing I wanted was for Harry to think that I was excessively uncomfortable with what had happened the evening before. Of course it was strange, and scary, but I didn’t want him to think it had affected me deeply. I didn’t want him to feel any more uncomfortable with the arrangement than he already did. “I’ll take you to the spot.” I chuckled. “I knew it.” He grinned. “What was your drink of choice?” “Whatever nasty cider I could get my hands on.” I giggled. “I was more of a vodka boy.” He winked. “I’ll take you to my spot when we’re at mine.” But that’s when I thought, I needed to prove it to him. I needed to prove that I wasn’t put off, or scared, or hesitant. The instinct that had kicked into me the previous night, the one that made me feel like I needed to protect him, to keep him safe, returned. I needed him to know where I stood. “Harry?” I swallowed hard, still not entirely sure what I wanted to say. “Hm?” “If you ever… want to talk about your dreams… or anything. I… I just need you to know I’m here for you. If you want to talk, I’ll listen.” He smiled, soft and accepted, like he knew exactly what I was going to say; like he already knew that I was willing to do that for him. He already knew I was an option. “You were amazing last night.” He nodded, voice quiet. “You made me feel… safe. You made me feel the opposite of how I thought I would feel, having someone there with me. I’d like to speak to you, about my dreams. If you’re willing to listen.” Relief flushed over my body in the colour red, bursting over my skin just so he could see it, see I wasn’t lying to him, to see I was honoured to possess his trust. “I am.” I nodded, trying to be confident. “I hope I can help.” Harry often spoke casually about his dreams, and I’d always figured that was because he wanted as many different points of views as possible, any kind of contribution to help him. But he’d never really delved into his dreams in the way I knew he was now ready to, to open up about every detail, to just sit and talk about them, to be painfully honest. “I hope so too.” He cooed. 24 Myself and Harry stood staring at the bench which was surrounded by tall bushes, winter having revealed their pale branches, frost sinking into the cracks of the wood on the seat. “So this was your drinking spot?” He flummoxed. “Yup.” “It’s a classic, I’d say.” He said, glancing around. “Middle of the park. Shielded by the bushes and stuff. Very nice.” “It served us very well.” I shrugged. “I threw up a lot round here.” “I can imagine.” He chuckled. He moved towards the bench, which was covered in pathetic graffiti attempts, his hands buried into his pockets, because his fingerless gloves obviously weren’t fully doing their job of keeping him warm. He sat himself down, covering the ‘Ren luvz Ryan’ scribbling I had engraved into the wood at the tender age of fourteen, and looked around the area, a fond smile on his lips as he soaked up the atmosphere. It felt weird welcoming him into my history. Whilst getting to know each other, we’d covered very basic things, and I’d bored him with mundane facts about my past. School, family, where I grew up. The fundamentals. But it felt odd to actually see him sat amongst things that really created the girl ahead of him. With Harry sat in the centre of those bushes, it was like I was allowing him, this boy I had agreed to have in my life so temporarily, to discover who I really was. It wasn’t just shallow, ordinary shit. He was welcoming himself, and finding interest, in things that truly meant something to me. I couldn’t fully comprehend how I felt about it. Because having him see those kinds of things, made me realise that cutting ties with him in January, wouldn’t be as easy. He was cementing himself into my life, without meaning to. Maybe it was nice at the time. Maybe I loved to see him there, adding him into scenes I knew too well, adding him to memories whilst forging new ones with him. Maybe. Yet, it still felt unwise. “We should have brought some beers.” I noted. His smile was infectious, large, teeming with delight, and to look at him, you’d think the boy had never experienced any kind of trouble in his life. Harry thought that to be true, and that’s why the dreams confused him so much. But the dreams were real. I’d heard the screams and I’d seen the terror. The way his lips shaped would never suggest such distress. “Will you sit with me?” He asked. I moved and sat beside him, our shoulders touching as we stared ahead of ourselves, but the closeness felt necessary. The cold of December was stinging at our skin, and any kind of warmth was welcomed. “It’s freezing.” I pointed out the obvious. “You wanna go get a coffee or something?” “Coffee or tea?” He asked me, his tone solemn, like he was shocked he hadn’t already quizzed me on this very serious subject. “Coffee.” I cringed, because I somehow knew he wouldn’t be impressed. “I’m breaking up with you.” He grinned. I laughed heartily, covering my mouth with the back of my hand, the smoke that erupted from my mouth thanks to the cold circling around my skin. He watched me as I giggled, a cute little smile on his face. “I knew you’d be disappointed.” “A coffee is a temporary solution, but the magic that tea works is temporary. You can’t say I’m wrong.” He scalded. “I won’t say you’re wrong. I know I should prefer tea but… I just can’t.” “I knew we were going to have a short relationship, but I didn’t think it would be this short.” “I’ll have tea today. Just to keep you happy.” “Maybe I won’t break up with you quite yet.” He shrugged. “I like that you’re willing to compromise. That’s what makes a good relationship.” The way we poked fun at our situation truly made it a hell of a lot easier. The way we joked about it made it so we could take a step back, see it for what it was, not get too lost in it or too freaked out by it. Because another thing that was lethal about getting to know Harry, was that I was starting to see him as a friend. I didn’t want us to lose sight of what we were really doing. It was good that we were getting along, it was good that we were friends, but I had to remember that I needed to act a certain way with him. We needed to convince people we were a couple, not friends. “Wanna go get some tea then?” I smiled. “I want to talk to you, now. Before I lose my gut.” “Oh. Okay.” I turned his way just a little more. “I’m all ears.” “A strange mental imagine.” He joked. “You’re already avoiding it.” I chuckled. “Shit. I am. Fuck. It’s just… I’ve never spoke to anyone other than Dr Jackson, about this. Not in the kind of detail I want to go into, anyway.” I didn’t know why it was me he was choosing to open up to, but I wasn’t about to question it. I kind of felt honoured, in a weird way. “Do you want me to… give opinions? Or just listen?” “If you have any kind of thought, throw it my way.” He nodded. “Anything at all.” “Okay.” He paused, the smoke emitting from his mouth was coming out quicker, and he was panicking. I nudged even closer to him, giving him the softest smile I physically could, hoping to encourage some kind of calm. He closed his eyes, inhaled my vibes, and shot them open again before he finally spoke. “It’s like the there’s a blue hue to the room. Not… not like it’s painted blue. More like… the lights are blue.” “You can’t paint the walls.” I whispered, referring back to what I’d first said to him about his dreams. “No, I can’t. So, it’s like I’m stood in there, completely still. On the wall ahead of me is a door, and above the door there’s a red light. Some nights it flashes, some nights it doesn’t.” I was engrossed, automatically. It was like I was a child, captured and captivated by a fairy-tale. My eyes were wide and twinkling the entire time he spoke. It wasn’t just down to the fact that what he was talking about was fascinating and intriguing to me, but it was him. It was Harry. He was entrancing, his voice and his mannerisms and the fact his vulnerability was shining through. I found I wanted to hear every story he had to tell. “The walls are tiled. On the left hand side, the tiles are faultless. Clean, perfectly aligned, seemingly white but the blue lights make them look kind of blue. But on the right hand side, some of the tiles are cracked. They don’t… look as clean. They’re shattered and wonky and… sharp. Everything in there is very still. There’s a dull noise that kind of rings there. Like a hum. Like… vibrations just echoing through it. It’s only small in there.” When he’d first started talking, his eyes were mainly fixed on the floor around his feet, but as he’d gotten more comfortable he stared at me. He looked deep into my eyes, barely blinking. I stared right back. “Being in there makes me feel… trapped.” He continued. “I feel lost. Vulnerable. Like… I’m waiting for something bad to happen. They started when I was twenty. Nothing altered in my life at all, they just came from nowhere. At first they weren’t as common, and a part of me thinks that maybe they would have stayed that way if I hadn’t… let them get to me. I feel like it’s my fault.” “Well you’re wrong.” I scalded. “Anyone going through what you do would be scared and affected by it. Even if they were still rare, they would need fixing. It doesn’t make you at fault!” “But what if I am?” He gasped, trying to force back the tears in his eyes. “What if this is something to do with me? Something I did that I can’t remember? Something when I was young? Something… Something when I was drunk? We don’t know that it’s not my fault!” I could tell from the way his voice was breaking, how alarmed and scared he seemed, that he hadn’t voiced these thoughts before. Not even to Dr Jackson. Due to his lack of answers, the fact that the dreams were his and his alone, it was almost like Harry had begun to hate himself for it. He had no one else to blame, and of course after a while he was going to start blaming himself. It was just so painful to hear. It was excruciating seeing the uncertainty creasing his features, the tears swill his eyes and every single layer of doubt becoming a layer of skin. I hated it. I truly, truly hated it. "It’s not you!” I fired at him, like I had any clue. “I’m almost convinced there isn’t a bad bone in your body. There is no way you could have done something that would make you deserve this. I promise. I promise you!” “You can’t make that promise.” His voice started to break. “I can. I will.” I was trying to be firm with him again, but it came so easily because I absolutely believed my words. I wasn’t just saying it to comfort him. I really believed that I was telling the truth. It just had to be something else, because his purity was palpable. I had to predict that something had happened to him. It was the only thing that made sense. I hated the guilt that was racking him even though he had no idea what he even had to feel guilty about. “I’m scared I did something.” He let a tear fall, innocent, permitted. “Tell me how you feel. Not right now. Not after years of thinking about it. Tell me how you feel in your heart. Deep down, do you think it’s something you did?” His eyes held mine, his tears stopping rather quickly, his breathing calming as he truly took in what I was asking him to think about. He really needed to stop beating himself up and just see the situation how it was, no matter how difficult. “No.” He eventually replied. “I don’t.” “Then why are you torturing yourself with those thoughts?” “I don’t know.” “Then stop!” He nodded, swallowing hard. It must have been really difficult for him, being so honest, and maybe it was hard to hear me being so honest back to him, but it was what he needed, and I loathed that he had waited so long to do it. “Okay. I should. You’re right, I should.” He shuddered, seeming to calm a little. He couldn’t possibly have been helping himself with those thoughts, and I hoped maybe even that alone, that miniature revelation, would be a step forward. It didn’t need to be a big one, but any kind of step in the right direction was a good one. “I do have something to say, about the dreams.” I breathed. “Okay?” He had calmed down an incredible amount, and I was happy. “You remember last month? When you told me you had that one dream where you kind of… saw yourself? Or some kind of version of yourself?” “Yeah?” “What side of the room were you on?” “What?” His brows crumpled. “What side of the room did you see yourself on?” He directed his eyes to the floor again, obviously trying to recall the dream, though I can’t imagine it was easy. It was difficult enough to remember dreams in a normal situation, but I imagined it was even harder when he had the same exact dream every single night. I imagined those slight changes and differences were often overlooked when you just expected the same thing over and over. That must have been why Dr Jackson asked him to start writing things down, just so he could be sure. I saw it dawn on him, the moment he realised where he was. “I was on the right.” He spoke quietly. “Next to the broken tiles. I was on the broken side.” “That has to mean something.” “I never even thought about it.” He baffled, eyes darting everywhere. “I didn’t… I didn’t even think that would matter but… Shit. Fuck. Of course that matters. Fuck.” “So… maybe it’s something to do with… feeling broken? I mean, maybe you knew that anyway, because of the dreams. But maybe that solidifies it? I don’t know.” “It’s definitely something to think about. I’ll mention it to Dr Jackson too, see what she thinks.” I think we were both more than aware that we weren’t going to figure out the entire meaning behind his dreams that day, but all we wanted was something. Some kind of hint, something that maybe he hadn’t noticed before. He had that. I could see how much he appreciated it too, the look on his face, the delicate curve of his pink lips, how rapidly he had calmed as soon as I gave my opinions. He gently nudged his knee against mine, silently thanking me. I hadn’t done much, but I had done something. That was enough. I shrugged and put the eyes in the back of my head, giving him a tender smile as I did. He chuckled before he spoke. “Meeting you has been interesting. Right from the start.” “I hope that’s a good thing.” I flustered. “Of course it’s a good thing.” He nudged my knee once more. “It’s a really good thing.” We sat in silence for a while, and a part of me just wanted to lay my head on his shoulder, just for a second. We were near enough so I could, but for some reason, I decided against it. Me and Harry were getting along wonderfully, and it was nice to feel so close to him, but I also didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. I didn’t know what our friendship was. We were something, but it was something I couldn’t fully figure out. “I like you a lot, Harry.” I told him, voice timid. I didn’t know what we really were to one another. But I did like him. I really did. His head turned to me, shooting me a questioning gaze, but smiling. “You’re alright.” He smirked. 25 The look of relief that privileged Harry’s features as soon as he raised the wine glass to his lips, was surprisingly pleasant to behold. I got to witness how his entire frame relaxed. I could literally see his excitement over the thought of an easy night’s sleep. I smiled as I watched him. “Florence, did you even bother to brush your hair?” My mother groaned as my father passed his money over the bar to pay for the round of drinks. “No, mother. I thought I’d leave it be just to piss you off.” I smirked. “You could be pretty if you tried.” She told me. “I could also care, but… I just don’t.” I made a normal amount of effort when it came to my appearance, nothing too spectacular, nothing subpar, so it genuinely didn’t bother me what she was saying. I knew my mother would only be happy if I turned up at her house wearing some kind of ridiculous blouse, probably with a cat jumper over the top, a skirt down to the knees and my hair scraped back into a bun, minimal makeup on but somehow having flawless skin. My mother had an ideal, one I was happy not to be living up to. “I’d like to propose a toast.” My father interrupted our bickering before it got out of hand. “To Harry.” “Me?” Harry gawped, wine glass resting against his bottom lip. “For spending your Christmas with us,” He confirmed. “And for being our daughters leading man.” I tried not to let out a disgruntled giggle and argue the point that I did not need a leading man, I was my own lead, but then I remembered why we were there. What my parents wanted and expected from me. So instead of arguing, I smiled, very fake and very large. “Thank you for having me.” Harry smiled as we all raised our glasses. “To me!” “To Harry!” We chimed. Our glasses clunked together before we all took large swigs, chattering and happiness bursting the scene around us. It was nice, how content I felt in that moment. The pub was always absolutely packed on Christmas Eve, but it never felt frustrating or tedious. No matter how many shoulders bashed against mine, no matter how many raised voices reigned over my own, it always felt really lovely to be lost in the crowd. It also felt lovely to just be with my family in there and act as though everything between us was normal and lovely. I wanted everything to be normal and lovely, so in those rare moments where it was, I relished in it, wished it was feeling that could overcome me more often. “Theodore darling, Greg and Lorna are over there.” My mother pointed. “We better go say hello.” My father tried not to groan. The two of them scurried off together through the mass, my mother looking extremely happy and my dad looking as though he was on verge of falling asleep before they’d even reached the boring couple they were approaching. I looked back up to Harry, who was scanning the room, keeping the glass close to his lips constantly, always ready to take a quick swig. “I think they like you.” I clucked. “Good! And you think that will make them like you more, right?” “Um, I guess.” I shrugged. “Or at least think I’m making some progress. The main thing I want is to stop going to therapy.” “I’m not entirely sure that’s true.” He spoke, completely nonchalant, still looking around. “Huh?” “I think the main thing you want is to have a better relationship with your parents.” He took another sip. “I think that’s your real aim, but I’m not sure you’ll admit it.” I glanced at him over the rim of my pint glass as I took a steady sip. I wanted both things, which was clear, and I knew that. I just didn’t know which one I wanted most. I didn’t say anything else about it, I just moved so I was next to him, squished together with our backs against the bar as we looked out to the room. The pub we were in was extremely quant, which only seemed to amplify the busyness. The ceilings were low, ivy and tinsel wrapped around the wooden beams that held the building together, the whole room had a golden glow. It was the kind of atmosphere where it’s hard to be unhappy, really. I caught sight of a girl during my look around the room, and noticed the way she was staring at Harry. Her eyes may as well have burst into heart shapes, she was that obvious. I nudged his arm, somehow hoping his head would turn to her, but it turned to me. “What?” “That girls checking you out.” “What? Who?” “Eleven o’clock.” “It’s nine o’clock!” He told me. “Holy shit, what kind of lad doesn’t know the clock system?” I grated. “You work in a bloody bar! You should be extremely familiar with the clock system.” “I know how to tell time!” He argued. “JESUS! LOOK THAT WAY! There is a girl who has her eye on you!” I tried to slyly point in the correct direction, and he finally caught on, scoping the room briefly before he spotted exactly who I was talking about, because she wasn’t hard to miss. She didn’t even drop her head when he finally caught her eye, she merely smiled at him. “Oh.” Harry gasped once he’d seen her smile. “You should go talk to her!” I chirped. “Ren?” “Yeah?” “You remember the reason I’m here, right?” I furrowed my brows for a second, because I literally didn’t have a clue what he was talking about at first. I remembered pretty quickly. “Oh shit!” I gawped. “You can’t go over there! You’re my boyfriend!” “You really are ditzy.” He chuckled, nudging my arm. “So this is bad.” “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s bad! She’s really pretty.” “Yeah, but we’re obviously not giving off couple-vibes.” He lowered his voice. “She’s very blatantly trying to flirt with me. We’re not acting like a couple. We’re acting like friends.” I turned and looked up to him with wide eyes, alarmed by what he had just said. We shouldn’t have been acting like we were friends. We shouldn’t have been stood there looking so complacent to one another that a girl felt no need whatsoever to hide her goggling. It had just been so nice being there for him, and being a friend to him, that it was very easy to forget the real reason behind the fact we were acquaintances. Without another word, he moved towards me, snaking his hand round my face so it was pressed against my cheek furthest from him, and then moved his lips, planting them fiercely against my temple. I fluttered my eyelashes shut as he positioned himself so he was stood ahead of me, his back to the girl, his hands now either side of my body after he’d placed his wine glass down, pushing against the bar so his whole body could lean my way. I looked up to him, my smile growing naturally. “See when I kind of corner you like this?” He smirked. “Mm?” “It’s like you’re mine.” His low voice called. “It’s like I’m sheltering you from everything and everyone else here.” He nudged even closer to me still, and I could feel his breath fluttering amongst the loose strands of my hair. It genuinely felt like I was his. “You’re good at this.” I spoke as quietly as I could without being inaudible. “We need to start with this subliminal stuff.” He moved one hand, and started messing with my hair between his fingertips. “Not just the kisses, not just our words. We need to hold ourselves like we constantly want to be in contact.” “I just forget.” I smiled, wiping some wine from his bottom lip. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you so much. It just feels like you’re my friend.” “I am.” He nodded, licking over the lip I had just touched. “But I’m a friend with a purpose, and I don’t do anything by halves.” “You’re a friend with a purpose right now, but what about in January?” “What about it?” His brows ticked to the centre for a second. “I know the plan was to cut ties but… I’m not sure I want to.” I had told Harry he was probably the nicest person I’d ever met, and I had meant it. Why would that be something I wanted to dispose of? Why would I want someone like that out of my life? There was a gorgeous warmth to him, getting to know him felt like a pleasure, not a chore, not something that we needed to do. Just because our situation was complicated then, didn’t mean it had to ruin something that was fast turning into a friendship. A weird friendship, but a friendship nonetheless. “Then we won’t.” He said confidently. “We’ll stay friends. This is a great story behind how we met, too. We’re gunna get some laughs when we tell people about this.” “We can’t tell people about this!” I laughed, tugging on the bottom of his shirt. “I’ll probably blurt it out when we’re drunk one day.” “I thought I could trust you!” I gasped sarcastically. “You can’t.” He picked up his wine again as I giggled, looking back over his shoulder to see that the girl was watching us, seemingly a little confused, focusing on his every movement as he swiftly finished wine. “She’s still watching you.” I told him as he placed the glass back down. “Only one thing to do then!” He closed the already miniature gap between us, pressing the front of his body against my own as he placed his hand at the side of my neck, and lowered his lips to mine. I could barely comprehend how tender his touch was, how it almost felt like I had to breathe him in. It didn’t feel real. Every part of his body that was in contact with my own felt so fiery and delicate, I couldn’t even imagine what it was like to have him kiss me properly. He must have been an expert, because this fake kiss, this kiss that was for show, was one of the most coaxing kisses I’d ever had. It was lingered and lovely, and I honestly just wanted to keep his lips pressed against mine for the rest of the evening. He didn’t even need to deepen it. I was so hooked on the feel of his kiss, the slight taste of wine, how cold and smooth his lips were. I’d lost myself in him, just for a moment. Things snapped back to normal as soon as he pulled away. “Is she still looking?” His face remained hovered close to mine. I looked over his shoulder, to see she had seized her attempts, and was chatting away with a woman beside her. “No.” “I guess we look like a couple then.” He grinned. “I guess we do.” “Now hurry up!” He gestured towards my pint. “I’m buying the next round, and those dainty little hands will not be able to hold up two pints.” “My dainty little hands can hold many things, thank you!” I cried. “I’ll fuckin’ show you! Buy me another pint!” “Say please.” He teased. “I need to prove my hands are good! Buy me a pint now, Curls!” I took a step to the side so he could access the bar easily, listening happily to his low chuckles. I tried to rush through my pint, knowing how often I struggled carrying two glasses at once. It just got annoying after a while. “You’re great.” He said, waiting patiently as the staff rushed to keep up with the customers. “My mum drinks red wine and my dad will probably want a whiskey.” “I’m also going to get us a mulled wine each.” He told me. “So that’s three glasses. Can your feeble little hands take it?” “They can take anything.” I accidentally found myself flirting. “Interesting.” He smirked, looking to me. “I’ll remember that.” It was quite easy for us to say little comments like that and then completely brush over them, since we were pretending to be together after all. It kind of came pretty naturally to us. Even though I knew it was all for pretence, I still couldn’t help but blush a little. I blamed the flustered pink of my cheeks on the fact that I was a sucker for any kind of compliment, or suggestion, really. A few weeks before when I was walking to work, a boy had smiled at me in the street. I thought about him for about a week. “Don’t be so rude.” I tut. “I didn’t say anything.” He leered, a barmaid rushing over to him, though I was sure he wasn’t next in line. I caught my dad’s eye whilst Harry was halfway through the order, and gestured for him to join us again. He looked relieved to have an excuse to move away from Greg and Lorna, who I had met a few times before, and they genuinely were one of the most monotonous couples I’d ever come across in my life. He quickly bid his farewells and practically ran back to us, but I noticed my mother was nowhere in sight. “Where’s mum?” I asked once he reached us. “Oh wait, she’s here.” She was pushing grumpily through the crowd, her phone in her hand and her wine glass spilling its contents over innocent bystanders as she stomped over to us. “Your bloody sister is a nightmare sometimes.” She screeched once she was close. “What?” I whelped. “I literally don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a bad word about Matty! What’s she done?” Harry turned around and began passing out the drinks he had just purchased, my dad thanking him and my mother practically snatching it from his hand. He didn’t seem to mind, but I did. “She’s not coming back today.” She groaned. “She told me she’d be back tomorrow.” I attempted to hide my scowl. “Well she told me she’d be back today!” “She’s busy, mum. It’s not that big of a deal.” “I just don’t know what’s going on with her recently.” My mother continued to rant. Not only was everything with Harry running smoothly all on its own, but somehow Matilda was worming her way into my mother’s bad books. Honestly, everything was just working out too well. It was very confusing for me. “I’m sure she’ll tell you everything tomorrow.” We each accepted our second glass from Harry. “Why so many drinks?” My dad asked him. “Mulled wine!” Harry simply said, and that was enough of an answer. “Let me get this.” Theodore tried to butt in with his wallet, a common occurrence. “No.” Harry was firm. “This isn’t out of politeness, this is something I want to do. I won’t accept your money.” He turned back around to pay before my father could argue any further. He nudged me. “You’ve got a good one there, Florence.” “I like to think so.” I smiled. “You do! You should be proud, shouldn’t she, Beatrice?” “Yes, you should.” I tried to ignore the way my stomach dropped at their words. Because it was exactly what I had wanted, that kind of reaction from them. I had wanted them to love him and I had wanted them to feel pleased for me because he was my boyfriend, but hearing them say it actually made me feel sick. Because I didn’t want them to feel proud of me for having a nice boyfriend. I wanted them to feel proud of me for going out and making a living for myself. I wanted them to be proud of me for having a job. I wanted them to be proud of me for everything that I was doing on my own. But they weren’t. They were just happy I’d found someone who had done, and was doing, everything they wished I had. It felt awful. Maybe Harry was too perfect. “She’ll be back tomorrow morning.” I said as Harry turned around to join the group again. “I’m sure you can cope with your least favourite daughter until then.” “Florence, what an awful thing to say!” My mother screeched. “What? It’s true.” I chuckled, struggling to take a sip of my first pint as I juggled my two new glasses. “Ren-” Harry tried to warn. “I’m just saying!” I laughed. “You make it very obvious.” “I do no such thing, young lady!” My mother scalded. “You wouldn’t give a shit if I was turning up a few days late.” I shrugged, the little alcohol I’d had having a great effect on me. “But with Matty, it’s a big deal.” “I was actually very upset when you didn’t come home last year, Florence. You’ve got no bloody idea.” “Ren, c’mon.” Harry tried again. I was getting myself worked up, and I think if Harry wasn’t there with his low, soothing voice, things could have gotten even more out of hand. I bit my tongue and swallowed hard, trying to remind myself of that nice feeling I’d had a few moments before, just being there and letting everything be normal. Harry, as always, stepped up. “Ren has made a lot of progression with her therapist.” He directed to my parents. “One of the things she’s asked of her, is to be more open. We’re trying to find a healthy middle ground, aren’t we?” “Yeah.” I mumbled, joining another lie. My mother looked to me, an apologetic look on her face. Fuck, she really did think I needed therapy. And fuck, I think a part of me was starting to agree with her. “Oh. Well… I suppose that’s a good thing.” My mother lowered her tone. Dr Jackson was right. I really did need to speak to them, honestly, openly, and truthfully, about the way I was feeling when it came to their views on me. Because it was starting to eat me alive. 26 “IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE BABE, AND FLUR DE DURBY SHPUR!” “Does anyone know the words to that song?” I laughed as Harry held my waist, and we stumbled towards my house. My parents had left a little earlier on, but myself and Harry had decided we wanted to welcome Christmas Day in the pub, as drunk as we could possibly get. We’d been incredibly successful, and Harry’s attempts at singing The Pogues was just proof of that. “A FLURDY GUR DE GUR, WON’T SEE ANOTHER ONE!” “Harry, shh.” “DA FURDY SANG A SONG, A SHPLUR NUR NUR DA FUR! I TURN MY FACE AWAY, AND DREAM ABOUT YOU!” We’d waddled successfully to my front door before Harry’s hands left my waist, and I think his voice got even louder as he stood triumphantly with his arms held high. “Shh-” “A DUR DA LUCKY ONE, A FUR DE SHPUR A BLUR.” “This is painful.” I turned around and leant backwards so I was against the door, watching him with a dozy smile on my face. “I’VE GOT A FEELING, THIS YEAR’S FOR ME AND YOU!” He belted, and neared me. “SO HAPPY CHRISTMAS, I LOVE YA BABY! I CAN SEE A BETTER TIME, WHEN ALL OUR DREAMS COME TRUE.” “You’re gunna have to shut the fuck up now, Curls. There are people trying to sleep.” “Literally, the most perfect song of all time.” He pressed one hand against the door, hovering over me. “Might want to learn the words then.” I poked his stomach. “Part of the beauty of that song is not knowing all the words. It would take away the charm.” I was shaking my head at him, but smiling like a fool, my eyes flickering over every feature of his face. He was absolutely wasted and it was bloody adorable. On top of that, I was glad he’d be able to get a decent night’s sleep. That thought alone was enough to make me beam. “Now do you promise to keep the noise down a little bit? My mum will kill you if you wake her up.” “Fingers on lips.” He whispered before performing the action. My cheeks were beginning to ache. Curls was a damn joy to be around, and I’d found myself laughing for 90% of the evening. He’d even been able to make my parents laugh. Harry could somehow mould himself to suit the needs of others. I knew in my head that Harry could be sat down with someone who was completely different to how he was, and be able to talk with them freely and find some common ground. It wasn’t even fake, or forced, he just had this charm and way about him. I slowly turned around and opened the front door, quietly giggling to myself as I stepped aside so Harry could tiptoe in first, one finger still pressed against his lips as he took on the stairs. I locked up and quickly began to follow him, watching as he got a little bit confused at the top of the stairs. “To the left.” I whispered. He gave me a thumbs up and continued his trail, finger still pressed against his lips, still on his tiptoes, absolutely silent. Once I’d reached my bedroom, Harry was already getting undressed with absolutely no shame, stripping himself down to the boxers as I closed the door and tried not to watch him. “Turn away.” I said as I wandered to the head of my bed and grabbed my t-shirt. “Huh?” “I’m gunna get undressed! Turn away!” “There’s no need to be ashamed here.” He said, dancing about on his spot. Clearly Harry didn’t have any qualms with his body, but then again, why would he? He was perfectly in shape, even his random tattoos that were littered all over his body and held no kind of organisation looked incredible. I wasn’t quite as okay with myself. “I’m not ashamed, but you still can’t look.” Still dancing, he turned around, swaying his hips so he was looking out of the window, and I could get undressed comfortably. I rushed through the process, stretching my t-shirt down as much as I physically could to hide the top of my legs, and clambered straight into bed anyway, pulling the sheets right up before I instructed that I was decent and he could turn around. “It’s Christmas.” He whispered once he’d turned around. “It is.” I smiled. “Merry Christmas, Harry.” “Merry Christmas, Florence Valentine.” He smirked, finally getting into bed. “Urgh, don’t full name me.” We both snuggled down. “It’s an incredible name, I’d like to use it, occasionally.” He closed his eyes. “Florence Daisy Valentine.” “As long as you keep it to a minimum.” I yawned. “Promise.” “Good.” I watched him begin to drift off for a few minutes, seeing that he still had this delicate little smile on his face, completely subconscious, soft. He was so happy. I moved so I was on my back, closing my eyes, hiccupping once, and settling for the evening. “Thank you for today.” He whispered. “I had fun.” “I’m glad.” “You’re fun.” “I am.” I giggled. “Will you sleep straight through?” “Mm, I should. I might be a little bit restless, but nothing too bad.” “If you wake me, do you want me to wake you?” “Yes. You’re very calming to me.” I smiled to myself, moving my hand a little closer to the centre of the bed, where I found it accidentally brushing against the side of Harry’s. I was just about to retract, but he nudged our touches even closer together, and before I could even question it, our fingers were intertwined, Harry gently rubbing his thumb over my skin. “Goodnight, Harry.” “Goodnight, Florence Daisy Valentine.”

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Transformers Animated 10th Anniversary.

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Transformers Animated 10th Anniversary.

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Transformers Animated 10th Anniversary: Autobot cast reveal image.

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Transformers Animated 10th Anniversary: the first picture.