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3

"I think he's not here, Brenda." The male voice said.

"It seems like he's not, but..." Harry's girlfriend, Brenda, trailed off, "why would he leave the house? It's our anniversary."

Why would you leave the house, Brenda? It's our anniversary, he thought. He loved his girlfriend to no end, but she could be a really big hypocrite.

"We'll have to do this later, Ray, I'm sorry." Brenda said nervously.

"But-" he tried to insist, but Brenda raised her hand to cut him off.

"Please, Ray, it's not a good time." She said, still looking around the living room frantically. She knew Harry was somewhere, and she knew that he would appear sooner or later. She had grown accustomed to Harry's presence and absence; she could feel when he was around; the air would have a musky scent mixed with some mint, his scent.

"Fine; but I'll come b-"

"Go." She urged him down the principal door; she didn't want to hear it right now, a sudden need of Harry filling her entire body. She ached to see him again and now felt absolutely terrible for leaving him like this on such an important day.

Being 8:36 p.m. and the moon already hanging on the sky above, it's rays illuminating Brenda's face as she stared out the window, watching Ray leave, Harry quietly climbed up the stairs to leave the Writing Room. He opened the tiny door, which was just seemed like another piece of wooden on the living room door, and lifted it up so he could go out, to which he succeed silently.

Brenda turned around once she saw Ray's fancy black car speed down the road. Harry saw it, too. He must be rich, he guessed, not that many people can afford a black Chevrolet Ss 1970.

Brenda let out a scream when she saw Harry stand right behind her, his hands in the pockets of his dressy black pants, the type of pants he always wore. Despite Brenda's apologetic smile, Harry's expression remained stern.

"Hello, Harry-" Brenda greeted, faking a cheery smile.

"May I ask where were you, Brenda?" Harry took wasted no time, asking the question he'd wanted to ask her since she went out that morning.

"Dear, I was at Amelia's house. We were having some tea and a small chat about baskets; girly things." Brenda laughed nervously, setting her basket full off flowers on the floor; when she saw Harry's eyes divert to the beautiful roses and sunflowers, she gulped, "Amelia was so nice, she gave us all this beautiful flowers. Aren't they beautiful?"

"I'd like to know what made you leave," Harry sneered, "it's our anniversary. I had something planned."

"I told you, I..." Brenda didn't know what was left to say. Harry stared at her: If there was something they had in common, was the way they dressed. It was old-fashioned, 1940 style. She wore a button up red shirt with long sleeves and a skirt that went down to her ankles. Her red hair was in some kind of twist that suited and complimented her face. She looked beautiful, but he was still angry.

"Forget it," he said. "Just forget it."

"Do you want some tea?" She suddenly said, feeling anxious.

"No, I don't want anything, thank you very much." He muttered. "Happy anniversary, love," he said, though still in an angry tone.

"No, Harry, look." Brenda tried to explain, but then thought she's save some time by saying those three words he'd been expecting to come out of her mouth for so long. She didn't even think twice about it; she didn't think about the consequences that would bring. But if it was to stay with Harry, she'd say it. "I was taking some time to figure out something. I came to the conclusion that..."

"That what?" Harry snapped, growing impatient. "Brenda, say it, please." He urged, tapping his foot.

Brenda looked into the green eyes of her beloved Harold, the one that had supported her for so long; the one that had to carry on with the consequences of her actions; the one that loved her like nobody ever would.

"I love you, Harry." She finally said. "And I mean it."

Harry's lips broke into a smile and in no time, he had lifted her off her feet. He had forgotten about everything: about Ray, the black Chevrolet, the roses, the letters; all that was in his mind was that she had said it: she loved him. And that was enough to make up for everything that had happened that day. He left wet kisses on her cheek, kissed her on the corner of her mouth, and Brenda felt butterflies erupt inside her. She never, in her life, thought she'd be lucky enough to find someone that would love her so much. She'd never thought she'd be lucky enough to have Harry in her life.

"I love you," he mumbled against her lips, "I love you, I love you, I love you." He said in between kisses, his hands pulling her closer to his needy and clingy body. "This is the best present you could've ever given me." He chuckled.

"Really?" She said, "now where's my present?"

Harry's smile faded, the image of his letters broken and scattered across the carpeted floor coming back into his mind; he shook them off, looking back at Brenda and taking a strand of her reddish hair behind her ear. "It hasn't arrived yet." He lied.

"Oh," she laughed quietly. "Harry, I love you." She repeated, making Harry smile. He kissed her again, taking her hand in his.

But Brenda could love on Harry all she wanted. Hell, she could even break his heart and leave him. After all, she had Harry, Ray, her friends and family.

But all Harry had, was Brenda.

a/n: yay update. this is a flashback on harry and brenda's relationship- you know, when harry was alive.

laura

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