Platinum // H.S.

1.2

Dear Harry,

Remember that night in Brisbane?

God, we were so young and carefree.

Maybe too young and carefree.

I remember you being so scared of driving drunk, but at the end of the night, you finally agreed to do it.

"Oh, the things I'd do for you!"

Is it only me remembering the man who looked at us with a puzzled expression on his face?

Or perhaps the nice old woman who told us to be careful, upon seeing you trip whilst opening the door to our hotel room?

We were both in the middle of laughing so hard, when you decided to ask me a question that forever remained etched in my brain.

"Alba," you said, looking at me up and down.

I would give anything to be underneath those sheets, lying next to you once more.

You ran your fingers down my arm, and toyed with my hand.

I can still feel the goosebumps like they just happened a moment ago.

"Do you wanna get married?"

It took me by surprise, but then I remembered you were drunk.

"You're insane, Harry," I giggled.

Although a part of me does wonder if you were sober when you asked me that.

But sober or not, I do regret not saying yes.

I would marry you regardless of what state or condition you were in.

I love you, Harry.

Whether it be you performing in stadiums, or you penniless on the streets of London, I'd still undoubtedly marry you.

Ask me again?
Alba Stockton