Come June [ h.s. ]

20

20
.

The following weeks passed like a romantic film sequence. Harry and Eileen were inseparable — taking long walks on the beach, exploring up and down the coastline, going for ice cream and playing fetch with Sam in the park — it all seemed to melt together. He took her out for dinner and held her hand without a trace of fear in his body.

She had started teaching him everything she knew about tulips. When the afternoons were warm they moved around the porch and tended to each flower, watering and trimming and adding fresh soil. Harry didn't do very well at remembering the names of every type, but he was certainly getting the hang of all the hands-on business. Sometimes just to rile her up he would flick dirt around, or act like he was about to drop something.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. He had just made a popping noise next to her ear for the thousandth time — his giddy laughter filled the air as she clasped onto his roaming hands and gave him an exasperated look. "What are you, five?"

"Try thirty," he chirped. He tried to break free of her grasp but she squeezed her fingers tighter, suppressing a grin.

"You're pestering me."

"That just means I like you."

She dropped his hands and tried to look indifferent. Harry smiled flirtatiously and reached for one of the cut tulips, raising it up and lightly tapping her on the nose.

"Well, I don't like you back," she giggled.

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

He pinched her backside and darted quickly away from her — she let out a yelp and proceeded to chase him off the porch and into her backyard.

And so it went.

They spent hours laying on the beach, laughing and sharing stories and squinting beneath the sun's white light. The days had grown hotter and the ocean was finally warm enough to swim in — Harry scooped Eileen into his arms and tossed her into the radiant blue water, the sound of their laugher echoing far across the beach. He'd have her wrap her arms around his neck and swim around on his stomach, carrying her with him.

One time she lost her sunglasses in a wave. Instead of feeling upset she just shook it off and made a joke, "at least my suit's still on," or something like that.

He absolutely loved her.

And so it went.

He collected her after work, making pleasant conversation with her father. As it turned out, the two of them both enjoyed the same activities, and could go on for ages about anything and everything. Ove Harris became somewhat of a second father to Harry. He had the same warm nature as Eileen; the same humor, and passion for living. He loved to tell stories about his youth, how he'd spent ten years working for an animal rescue organization, and had climbed three mountains.

Harry was fascinated by him. He hoped to meet Eileen's mother soon. She was never at the restaurant when he visited and he found it rather odd.

In the evenings he and Eileen cooked together and watched whatever was on television, although most of the time they just talked over it, because they could finally do so without holding back. Harry even sang for her sometimes. He was still just as incredible, and the raw, real sound of his voice filled her senses and took her breath away.

On a cool Friday night, as they sat drinking tea and eating rum cake, her forehead creased and she met his green eyes cautiously.

"Do you think you'll go back?"

"Back?"

"To London." Her face was difficult for him to read. "To your family, your career."

A few months ago, Harry would've responded to such a question with "no, never" — but as he looked toward Eileen, who sat there with nothing but support and devotion in her eyes, something inside of him shifted.

"I'm not sure." He reached for the remote and muted whatever was playing. "I don't want to, at least not for a while. I don't want to leave you — not now, not when I've been so happy. But I can't hide forever."

She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled faintly.

"I know."

They didn't do much talking after that. Eileen put on When Harry Met Sally but fell asleep halfway through; he didn't dare to wake her. Instead he reached for the quilted blanket slung over the arm of the sofa and did his best to cover her with it — she moved around a little, but her eyes remained closed and her face looked peaceful.

He sat for a long time and listened to her breathing. Eileen's reading lamp cast a buttery glow across the room, painting the nearby walls with gold. It was just enough to make out the details of their surroundings while maintaining some level of darkness.

Harry felt his eyelids grow heavy but didn't want to drift off. There was a lot on his mind. The most pressing matter was her question from before, about him returning to London someday.

Did he want to go back?

He wondered if he could ever feel truly at home again, in some place other than here. It was almost impossible to imagine. As the weight of Eileen's head and shoulders pressed into his lap, and he felt her warmth and studied the flyaway hairs at the base of her neck, all Harry could think about was how difficult it would be to say goodbye to her; even for a day.

Maybe it was a good thing she asked him.

Maybe, if he did go back to London in the hopes of facing what he so desperately wanted to leave behind in the first place, he could bring her with him.

When the film's end credits began to roll and his body groaned with fatigue, he quietly stood, turned off the reading light and carried Eileen to bed.

.

song: "Our Last Summer" by ABBA

a/n

Hello all my loves!

I know this chapter was super short, but I just really wanted to do a mashup of moments between Harry and Eileen. Sometimes life gives us periods of time that feel like a dream and this is the case for them, too.

I've read stories that don't linger on happiness for too long, and immediately follow it up with dramatics. I just like doing something different and giving them their honeymoon phase, because I believe it's more true to reality.

Also the song for this chapter is beautiful and makes me think of young love and sunshine — I love the original ABBA version but the Mamma Mia cast does a great job, too!

Hugs,
Sophie