Dear Iris [h.s]

chapter fifty seven.

Harry Styles

I followed Iris up onto the balcony, the same place we had our first kiss and it fills me with some bittersweet sense of nostalgia knowing that now we're headed back up here and things are completely different.

Her face lit up when I opened that door to her, leaning on the wall with a cigarette between her fingers. She looks beautiful, in fact, I'm not entirely sure beautiful does it justice. There's so many lines in Romeo and Juliet, arguably one of the most 'romantic' plays of all time, and yet I don't think one of them does her beauty justice.

"Hello." I smirked, shutting the door behind me. "You look beautiful, Iris. You always do, but tonight you look...amazing."

Iris passed me a cigarette and her lighter, before shaking her head and looking away, "Stop. I definitely do not look or feel beautiful tonight, is it just because my dress is-"

"Hey," I cut her off, tossing her back the lighter and maintaining eye contact. "You look beautiful, end of story...o speak again bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night as a winged messenger of heaven."

Iris smiled a little then, chuckled too instead of rambling on about how she doesn't feel beautiful. I wish she saw herself how I see her, because then not one of those thoughts would be swimming round her mind. I'm so in love with her it kind of hurts.

She sat down at that little table, I took the other side and leaned back, breathing out a grey cloud into our atmosphere. That smile on her face is something I don't think I could get sick of, ever.

Sitting here on this balcony, I'm imagining sitting on a balcony just like this, only it'll be ours and we'll be in Paris. We'll be happy, together, and none of those people back in the hall would ever have to see us again. Things would be good, we'd have each other.

"Your mum is really happy for you, you know that?" Iris said, with that happy look on her face.

"So is your friend." I replied, "She is also very protective over you."

"Yeah," Iris chuckled,, "She's like the only person who's seen it all, you know, it all. I don't blame her, it wasn't pretty."

"Well," I shrugged, smiling. "I like her. I'm glad you have her, she's nice."

Iris nodded and smiled, she put her cigarette out on the ashtray and just sat back, letting out a sigh. She's smiling tonight, a lot more than usual and I'm glad. She doesn't look like there has been some crazy argument yet, and good. It's her dad's birthday so a family argument tonight would probably be worse.

"You know, I got commissioned this piece, I'll have it finished in a few days and the woman is going to pay a lot of money for it. A lot of money." Iris says, arms folded as she looked over at me. "Paris could happen sooner than we think."

"How soon?" I asked, piecing things together in my mind. "Like...when you finish your painting?"

Iris nodded her head and my heart almost stopped. A few days time, Iris and I could be going to Paris. That's all I've wanted since the very first time we spoke about it and now it's right around the corner. I was scared Iris wouldn't want this, but she does and it means a lot to me that she'd even consider it.

Both of us looked at each other and let out a little laugh, one of excitement, nerves and happiness. I reached across the table after putting my cigarette out, and I held her hands, both of them. Iris has cold hands so I had mines at either side of hers in an attempt to warm them up, or at least give her comfort.

"I'll tell my mum, and we'll sort this out properly tomorrow, okay?" I smiled, trying not to keep smiling at her like some stupid little boy. "God Iris, I love you. I love you a lot."