Buses & Bunk Beds (Zarry)

Chapter 26

As the tour went on my days seemed to become an odd mix of highs and lows. The concerts were incredible as always, and the rush I felt when performing for thousands of screaming fans was better than any high I could get from a drug. But after the shows our meet and greets had been combined with Little Mix's, which meant that Harry, Perrie and I were all stuck in the same room for way too long.

The tension between Perrie and I was rivaled only by the tension between Perrie and Harry, and the fact the the fans always wanted pictures of her and I together and tended to ask a shitload of questions about our wedding plans just made everything a million times worse. I swear Perrie was trying to goad him, because she couldn't seem to keep her hands off of me whenever he was nearby. Some nights I thought that Harry wanted to physically rip her away from me, and I'm sure the fans were all wondering why he looked so pissed off in their pictures.

Generally it would take a combination of profuse apologies, flowery compliments and gratuitous cuddles to get Harry to stop grumbling about her and the situation she'd put us in. He was still jealous of the fact that the world thought I was in love with her and not him, and I couldn't blame him one bit.

I myself felt like I was going crazy, and I was convinced that the root of my madness was love. It was like I was so wildly attracted to him and so madly in love with him that I was losing my fucking mind. Like love had crawled into my head and was messing with my brain, jumbling up my neurons and scrambling my priorities. All of the things I thought I knew about myself had flown out the window when love flew in, and now I felt out of control in ways I never had before. I'd never really put anyone else's wants and feelings above my own, but suddenly Harry's happiness had become more important than anything else, and truthfully it was kind of exhausting to always be worried about how my actions would affect him.

So much so that sometimes I actually wondered why everyone thought that being in love was so fucking fantastic. What was so great about the sick feeling I'd get in the pit of my stomach every time I saw Harry talking to a cute girl or even to Louis? Did everyone feel panicky when they had been away from the object of their affection for more than a few hours like I did? Was it normal for all of my thoughts to be consumed with him, or to want to spend every second by his side? How did all of the millions of couples in the world get anything done when all they could focus on was their love?

Plus part of me was terrified by how happy Harry made me. It wasn't like I'd been miserable before, far from it really, but now that I had experienced this new level of joy I worried constantly about how far I might plummet if the source of it was taken away from me. I was basically giving Harry the power to truly hurt me, and while I trusted him, it was hard for me to put myself in such a vulnerable position. The fact that I felt like, without Harry, tomorrow wouldn't be worth the wait and yesterday wouldn't be worth remembering scared the shit out of me. I knew that thinking this way made me sound like a goddamn walking greeting card, and I prayed that no one would ever find out how ridiculous I'd become.

Despite my slow spiral into insanity, all it took was one secret smile or whispered "I love you" from Harry for all the jumbled neurons and stomach aches and jealousy and worries to be worth it. Just the sound of his laugh, my god his laugh, was enough to refill all that seemed to spill from me when we were apart. I craved his laughs and touches and love like I craved oxygen, not realizing how much I needed them until I was deprived of them. The truth was that he was my world, and I loved him, from the top of head down to his toes.

We'd made a habit out of crawling into each other's beds whenever we thought we could get away with it. Not to have sex, though the temptation was there, but just to snuggle and talk. Our conversations seemed to carry more weight when they were whispered within the confines of our bunk beds, the fact that I could feel Harry's words in the form of his breath tickling my face making them resonate with me more than they might have otherwise. We stayed up as late as we could, sharing secrets and kisses and hopes and jokes until we were lulled to sleep by the motion of the bus and the sound of each other's breathing.

One night I asked him something I'd been thinking about for a while.

"If we weren't famous for one day, what would you want to do?"

"You mean if we just two devastatingly handsome blokes in England, with no fans or paps or managers to worry about?" I nodded. "Mmmm, that's a good question. I need to have a think on it. What would you want to do?

"I'd want to spend the whole day outside, walking around whatever town we were in holding hands so that I could show you off to everyone. We'd eat at an outdoor cafe and feed each other, and no one would be trying to take our picture or get an autograph, so I could just focus on you and nobody else. And then we'd go to a carnival and ride the Ferris wheel and make out when we got to the top." I told him, watching his eyes light up as I spoke.

"Oh, and we could wear matching shirts that say I Love My Boyfriend and share a funnel cake and I'd put powder sugar on your nose and then kiss it away," he chimed in.

"And I'd spend all my money trying to win you one of those giant teddy bears..."

"Which I, of course, would make you carry around for the rest of the night..."

"Of course," I agreed. "And then we could go to an outdoor concert and slow dance under the stars..."

"And I'd kiss you..." he breathed, running a finger over my lips.

"Right in front of everyone, not caring who could see us..."

"Wanting them to see us, so that they'd know you were mine," he finished.

We were quiet after that, and I think we were both picturing all of the little, everyday things that we were unable to take for granted because of who we were. I didn't know if we'd ever actually be able to make the date we'd just imagined happen, at least not without buying out the entire park for the day, which kind of defeated the purpose, but I took comfort in the fact that we both wanted the same thing so much that we could finish each other's sentences about it. I cuddled him closer so that his heart was against my chest, and I could feel his lips pressed to my neck as I drifted off, dreaming about Ferris wheels and funnel cakes and stuffed animals and slow dancing.