Incandescent | H.S

Part Twenty-One: Crushed Credence & Cotton Candy Clouds

The next afternoon, you found yourselves on the plane back to London. Harry was cuddled up to you, holding on to you as much as he was to your time spent together. He was saturated by the experiences between you, by your soft thighs and your soft heart. He was so ecstatic and over the moon to finally call you his. If so much could happen between you in a single weekend, then Harry couldn't fucking wait for what the future destined for the relationship he had with you.

You'd done so much for him already. You'd gifted him sunflowers and trust.

How could he cope with his jet-setter life knowing he didn't want to be apart from you? He knew the upcoming months were hectic in his schedule and no doubt yours would be, too. But he pushed his anxiety aside because he couldn't allow himself to get worked up over something that the two of you could possibly resolve and find your way around.

Also, he trusted you. He trusted that his cherry would soothe and resolve his unease because that's one of the things you did best.

He knew the media was abundant with pictures and videos and articles about the two of you. He read a few in bed that morning, scrolling through his phone that he held so tightly he feared it may shatter in his fist. Smattering glass and electrical debris all over the place, making a mess of his heart and his dire need to protect and shelter you.

After reading horrible words that assumed absurd things about him and about you and the two of you together, he had to turn off his phone and sink into the sheets next to your sleeping form. He breathed in your familiar scent and warmth and felt his anger diminish. He marveled over the fact that you completely alleviated his anguish even in your unconsciousness.

He wanted to stay in that room in Venice. To hide away from paps and fans and shitty exes and simply to be with you and have bubbly baths every night and have you in the sheets.

Sitting in the seat next to you now, there was so much he wanted to say to you, but he knew he was reeling in adoration and suppressed it for your sake. He often felt emotions on overdrive to a point where it became overwhelming. Part of him knew you would love to hear his thoughts but he let them float around his loved-up brain and instead opted for a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his side.

"Mmm," You hummed, nestling into him and loving the warmth of him. "Don't wanna go back to work." You complained.

"Let's run away to a deserted island where no one can find us." It was a joke but as Harry said it, he found himself thinking it wasn't a bad idea.

"Can we?" You looked up at him and pouted.

Landing in London felt like arriving in another world. You'd both become so at peace in the warmth of Venice and of course, when you touched down, London was its usual moody self, drenching the entire expanse of the city in pelting rain.

A driver met you both and helped you into the car with umbrellas above your heads. You couldn't shake how odd it felt, being treated like royalty but as you drove from the airport and to Harry's home with one of his ring adorned hands in both of yours, you found yourself quite proud at how well you were handling your adaption into Harry's life.

Harry ordered some food, claiming he needed one more evening alone with his girl before returning to the real world. He loved being with you, but he especially loved being alone with you and he planned to savor every moment with you tonight.

You were sat at the counter, both of you adorning sweatpants and baggy t-shirts. You'd just scoffed down a ton of Italian cuisine and were washing it down with a glass of wine each when you're phone buzzed on the countertop next to you.

Seeing that it was your assistant, you answered it and threw Harry an apologetic look and he only smiled and poured himself another glass of wine and busied himself with scrolling through his own phone, catching up with friends and family after his time away.