Italy In The Spring [h.s]

3

If there was a one in a million chance the ground might open up and swallow me right then and there, I was hoping and fucking praying that this will be the time it happens.

I can barely hold eye contact with Harry while he seems to be burning holes straight through my head and looking into my soul. Honestly, I can't tell if he's pissed or sad. My guess is it's a mix between the two from the brief glance I got of his eyes before I chickened out and looked away. Because the second I looked at him, every memory we ever shared together came crashing down on me and I felt a heavy weight being crushed onto my chest.

Guilt. Nothing but guilt.

I feel guilty for moving on even though I'm happy now. I feel guilty for even fucking feeling guilty. Even though he wanted me to move on and find happiness, I now feel like shit for doing so, although I doubt that's how he's trying to make me feel.

And kill me for admitting it... but oh, my god, I've missed him.

"Should we go inside then?" Louis breaks the silence that had fallen around us.

I glance up, catching Harry's eyes to find he's still staring intently at me. An emotion flashes behind his eyes that I can't seem to make out, taking in his features and holding back a smile once I notice his hair is touching his shoulders. He kept it long.

He looks older... in a good way. More mature almost. And healthier. Even healthier than when I had seen him for the last time in Paris. He's twenty-nine now, which explains a lot of things. Like how he looks even more fucking attractive as if that's humanly possible. And happier. Not as broken and unsure. He's grown without me, and yet he waited for me. Something I couldn't manage to do. Or maybe he didn't wait for me and that's why he looks so much better. I doubt I'll be willing to ask him myself.

"I know I'd like to get all of this grass off of me," Timmy laughs and softly grabs my hand. "What about you, Beauty?"

Tearing my eyes away from Harry to look at Tim, I smile and nod my head, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze once I notice a hint of worry hidden behind his eyes. "I'm a little itchy and in need of a shower," I laugh softly, brushing away some grass from his hair. Tim sighs slightly and his smile widens, almost as if he's relieved.

"Come on, H. We need to catch up," Louis smiles, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder and steering him towards the house.

I watch them walk away, chewing on the inside of my lip in angst and feeling my face flush bright red once Harry turns his head to look at me from over his shoulder. It's almost as if he's trying to figure me out, maybe wondering why him. Wondering why I chose Timothée.

"Well, he's fucking intimidating," Timmy shivers and turns to look at me with a wide smile. "Thought he was going to kill me with his bare hands."

"Oh, hush. He's not that bad," I laugh, wrapping my arms behind his neck to pull him closer to me. "Now c'mon. We need a shower. You smell like grass and it's not the best smell."

He rolls his eyes and attacks my face with quick kisses, making me shrink away from him as laughter tumbles from my lips, "You smell like grass, too. You can't say much."

"Shut up and come on. I need to take a breather before I have to see him again," I roll my eyes, pulling away from his arms and dragging him behind me as I walk towards the house. "Thank you for being so understanding about this by the way."

"Of course," he replies, tugging me into his side. "I remember how rough it was for you. You forget I was practically your therapist there for the longest time. I'm surprised you eventually agreed to be my girlfriend."