"I can feel you take control of who I am and all I've ever known."
A story in which a healing young woman falls in love with the man who shines as bright as she wishes she could.
TW: story contains minor sexual content.
*NOT CURRENTLY ACCEPTING TRAN...
"Thank you." I tell her, just as Harry stands up, everyone's eyes on me and Sarah.
"What's beautiful?" Harry asks and I widen my eyes at Sarah to stay quiet.
She doesn't.
"This song D wrote. It's so good, I think I'll cry." I see Harry smile at the nickname Sarah calls me. It clearly makes him happy that I'm close with people he cares about.
"Can I hear it?" Harry asks. He wants to hear it, not read it. I gulp and panic flashes in my eyes. I need to get over this. Ma and Pa would want me to do it.
"Um, okay." I let out a deep breath, cracking my neck to stretch before I start. "Could I have the guitar really quick?"
Harry's eyes widen, not knowing I played the instrument. Oops.
I clear my throat and start strumming, "Los Angeles and Florida, I do love my ma and pa. Not the way that I do love you. Well, holy moly, me, oh my. You're the apple of my eye. Yeah, I've never loved one like you."
As I sing, Sarah is clapping along, Mitch grabbing her hands to stop, and it makes me laugh in the middle of it.
I sing about the moats and the boats I saw on my walk in the alleyway. I sing about the payphone booth I saw people using and about the waterfall in our spot back in L.A.
I sing about home. I sing about him.
"Home is when I'm alone with you."
I glance up as I finish, and my eyes immediately go to Harry. His lips are parted and the way he's staring at me is unnerving. I hear clapping and I jump and look away from him, giving a small smile, thanking them. It's still in the works, but I really like what I wrote.
Harry doesn't speak to me the rest of the time we're there and it makes my chest hurt. Did he hate the song? Does he know a lot of it is about him? Did it make him uncomfortable?
After a few more hours, everyone starts to pack up and we say bye to each other. Sarah gives me her number and it makes me happy to know I have another good friend.
Harry starts to walk out and still hasn't spoken a word. His driver is at the front and once we're inside, I can't stay quiet. "Harry, did I do something?"
He doesn't respond and shuts his eyes. After a brief silence, "That song you wrote." That's all he says.
My stomach drops, "What about it? You told me I should start writing again and the first song I write in a while, you hate?"
He shakes his head, "I didn't say I hated it. I loved it. Too much."
I go to ask what he means but the driver yells out that we're here and Harry quickly climbs out of the car. I hastily make my way out, following him into the hotel. There's cameras flashing in my face and for once, I'm not concerned about it.
Once we're in the room, Harry tosses himself on the bed, face-up, and I do the same. Our hands are brushing against each other and I feel him intertwine our fingers.
"That song was so beautiful. I loved it. A lot." He pauses. "What made you write it?"
I couldn't tell him the truth, but I also pride myself on never lying. So I tell a partial truth.
"Um, the day you went writing and I went to the café, I walked around there for a bit and I saw a bunch of stuff. Random stuff, like a payphone booth, and boats, and stuff like that." It's not a lie.
"Oh," is all he responds.
I swallow, "Yeah."
His eyebrow raises and he shrugs, "Well, for being about random things, it sounded pretty meaningful." He doesn't believe me.
He sounds insecure. Insecure about how I feel for him. But there's no shot in hell I'm telling him that I'm in love with him. I'm happy and life is going well and I'm not going to ruin that because I fell in love with him in the span of a couple of months. He'll run screaming. And I haven't said those words to anyone. Well, anyone other than my parents. But this was a different kind of love. I needed to tread carefully.
Definitely not telling him.
"What do you want to get for dinner?" That's the only sentence I can muster.
"Whatever you want. I'm going to shower." He goes to get up, but I pull his arm back and he looks at me.
"Harry. Don't be angry with me." I say softly.
"I'm not." He sighs. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I-...You're not the perfect woman I've made you out to be, you know?"
I'm silent for a while and I squint at him. "You're shit at apologies."
He laughs, "I just mean...I'm not the only one with insecurities. You have them, too. And I'm sorry for thinking that I was the only one allowed to be insecure. It's unfair of me. I want you to tell me the real meaning of the song whenever you're ready. And I'll just tell you that every single song I wrote today was about the same thing you wrote yours about."
He places a kiss on my forehead and walks into the bathroom, while I'm left sitting on the bed, frozen.
Is he saying he feels the same way I do? Maybe he's just trying to make me feel less embarrassed.
I stay in my spot on the bed and I don't realize how long I'm sat there until Harry comes out of the shower, shirtless and a towel wrapped around his waist.
My cheeks heat and he shrugs, "Forgot my clothes."
"Right." My voice cracks and he smirks at me.
I don't say anything else and he speaks, "Are you going to shower or are you just going to stare at me all night? I don't mind the latter, darling."
He's teasing me. "Oh." I shake myself out of my thoughts and clear my throat. "Right. I'll shower." And just to mess with him right back, I lift my top over my head before I shut the door all the way, giving him a glimpse of my bare back.
Smart decision not to wear a bra today.
I hear his breath catch and I smirk to myself before shutting the door closed.
I take a quick shower and go back into the room to find Harry knocked out. He looks adorable and I can't help but take a picture.
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I consider posting it to Instagram, I only have like nine followers and it's still on private, but I'm not sure how Harry would feel about it. I decide to keep it to myself and add it to my very small collection of pictures I've taken of him. Some when he's looking, some when he's not.
I'd feel weird about it if it weren't for the fact that I'd caught Harry taking pictures of me more times than I can count.
I climbed under the covers with him and curled up next to him. And like always, I fell asleep instantly.
