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He woke up with her name on his lips. 

The house was empty, the sound of the two women having failed to wake him up. He was glad, for the most. Because he had no idea how he would have handled waking up with Abigail, when he fell asleep with Adelaide's lips on his mind.

He rolled over, a stupid smile plastered on his face, he felt stupid, but the memory of last nights thunderstorm was still fresh in mind, and the butterflies kept flying around in his lungs. His eyes fell on the window, but it was not the magnificent sun that caught his eyes, it was the small flowerpot in the windowsill that did. 

New flowers had sprung out on the little tree over night, and he could see its tiny branches dance in the slight wind, competing with its mother outside. 

He got up and walked over to it, grabbing a cup of water on his way, intending to water it. But when he got to the window, he stopped. There was something under the flowerpot, a piece of paper. He pulled it out, and saw that it wasn't just a piece of paper, it was a post card, and on the back, there were three words, written in a handwriting he had never seen before, but recognized immediately. 

The postcard was bought at the local museum, showing the magnificent building at summertime. She had written one simple demand on it.

"Come find me." 

The local museum was built in stone, with beautiful statues out front and carvings lining the windows. It looked like it came from another era, one where art wasn't kept in museums, but in homes, and artists were hired by kings and popes to paint their roofs. Harry's palms were sweating as he walked up the stone stairs, he tried to wipe it off on his jeans, but his anticipation would not wipe off so easily. The wind breathed in his neck, and lifted some of his curls. It was warm, like a soft, caressing touch. He sighed, and whimpered in pain when something hit his head.

"What the hell?" He said and turned around. He couldn't see anyone behind him, but when he looked down, he saw a ripe, orange peach lying on the ground. He bent down to pick it up, but then he heard someone yell out from behind him. 

"Catch!" the voice said, and yet another peach came flying at his head. He ducked, and shouted: "Who's there?" He still couldn't see anyone, but the next time he heard the voice say "Catch," he caught the peach in his hand, and heard a familiar giggle.

"Good job," Adelaide said, and her head popped up from behind the stairs. In one hand, she held a basket full of peach kernels, and in the other she held a peach. She bit down on it. 

"Oh god, I knew it was you." Harry said, and smiled. She looked so beautiful in the afternoon sun, white ribbons in her hair and stars in her eyes. She ran up the stairs to him and took his hand in hers. "Come on," she said. "We have no time to waste."

The museum was as good as empty, a couple of art students and the beautiful paintings on the walls the only thing greeting them on their way. But Harry could not fully divert his attention from the small hand in his. She had filled the spaces between his fingers with her own, and he could almost feel her pulse through them. He gently brushed his thumb across her palm, and she turned around to look at him.

"Have you ever been here before?" She asked, and stopped in front of a painting. It was from the romantic period, showing off the ruins of an abandoned castle, overgrown with ivy.

"Yeah. I used to come here all the time for inspiration." He answered. She had turned her face away from him, studying the painting. "But I haven't been here in a long time."

"Not since the accident?" She didn't look at him when she said it, she just kept looking at the picture, noticing how the artist had used thirty different shades of blue to paint the sky. "Yeah," he answered, and she finally looked at him. "Come on," she said and pulled him over to another painting. 

Daddy issues || h.sWhere stories live. Discover now