epilogue

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It's been a year and I can finally say I am completely and truly happy.

When Harry and I met, it was completely and truly the worst timing possible. He was just that new boy at the coffee shop and I was just some girl who still lived with her parents and our worlds seemed to collide. It didn't make much sense, I was messed up and bitter about love and all he did was yearn for love. My condition was unique and one-in-a-million but somehow it brought us together and for that I am eternally grateful. [ ;) ]

Harry's little apartment has become home and it's bright with my latest paintings and it's welcoming with the pile of dishes in the sink and it's just home. Perhaps it's not the whole building that brings me a sense of belonging but it's the way Harry returns home from managing the coffee shop and collapses into me with tired smiles and kisses and "I'm so happy to be home"

The way he looks at me when I'm painting and my clothes are stained with colours and my hairs all messy but he still stares at me like i'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and I don't mean to brag but I just love the way he looks at me.

It smells like home when we attempt to cook together, the sizzling of the pan as we drop butter into it and all the failed attempts to flip pancakes and when we finally do it, he screams in delight and kisses me over and over again until the pancake burns in the pan.

When he abandons the attempt at pancakes to place kisses on my skin and make my breathing heavy. And the times we curl up together on the sofa whilst he makes me coffee and we play video games and every time he lets me win just to see that triumphant sparkle in my eyes.

The best and worst time was when we visited Harry's family. They welcomed us with open arms and there was a lot of kisses and hugs and smiling and crying. We played football challenges in their garden and Harry's little brother told me I was pretty and I giggled with his sister when Harry tried to show off in front of me. I finally was introduced to Oscar, he was the sweetest thing.

It was the worst time when it made me think of my family, it's been a year now. A year of silence and I don't know how they're coping, exactly. I think Harry still clings to the hope that they will come back into my life someday but I don't know about that.

I went to the house when my best friend Cara told me they were not home and I packed all my things and pretended not to notice how all the picture frames were now empty, I thought of Liam and of the times we shared in the house and it's come to the point where I am finally able to smile at the memories instead of cry.

So what is a soulmate?

It's like a best friend but more. It's the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else. That someone who makes you a better person. No, actually they don't make you a better person, you do that by yourself because they inspire you. A soulmate is a person you carry with you forever. It's the one person who knew you, accepted you and, believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. And no matter what happens, you'll always love them and nothing could ever change that. [~Dawson's Creek]

And I was starting to think I should finally say it, after all the times I spoke the words without meaning it terrified me to ever say them again but, I'm starting to feel it inside. I feel the rush and pang inside my heart when he does the littlest things, like when he tries his hardest to be quiet when he wakes up for work in the morning, unaware that I've been tracing his jaw for ten minutes, already. When he comes running to me to try a new recipe of coffee flavoured drinks and I sip them and smile even when I hate the taste because I see the eagerness in his eyes and I want to melt at his enthusiasm.

The coffee shop has become like our home too, Harry's been promoted to manager so his pay check is higher now and he comes home with presents for me, never flowers because they're painful for me and he knows that.He brings me books and music and arty things that make me feel all warm inside because he knows me so well.

So I take another gulp of orange juice, as I sit in our kitchen whilst he flips an egg with his messy bed hair, only wearing boxers and I build up enough courage to say it softly and casually but most importantly, with meaning.

"I love you." I say, taking another sip of juice.

He comes over to me, putting the egg on my plate and kisses me on top of my head. "I love you too."

Colourblind.

"Disgusting," people say, "-it's a sickness, a disease."

I just don't agree.

b & w ; ( wroetoshaw ) ♡ Read this story for FREE!