// Ballerina girl, you are so lovely.
I can see in you, my dreams come true. //
"Ballerina Girl" -Lionel Richie
4 Months Later
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Six months ago, I thought that my entire life was over. January 14th, I fell down on that stage, splinters of wood stabbing up into my heart, and I thought that's where Phoebe ended. Phoebe was over, and I was destined to be the shell of a ballerina. Just another dancer who got injured and was forgotten. Left in the shadows, in the dust that collects behind the curtains of the auditorium. Destined to hang up my pointe shoes in the back of a closet where they would never again see the light of day.
But...a lot can change in six months. And Harry always reminds me that change isn't a bad thing.
Standing at the front of the classroom, the glass of the mirrors cool against my back, I watch as the young girls file in. Each of them is wearing some combination of black, pink, and white leotards and tutus. They look so damn cute I can't help but smile.
Working with the girls has easily become a highlight of my weeks - helping to mold them into blossoming ballerinas. They're always eager to show me how hard they practiced at home while they were away, and I love getting to see their dedication pay off. In the big ways - when they finally remember where the positions are, or when they remember to point a toe. But also in the subtle ways - when one quickly jumps in to help a friend with a position, or when they don't need me to stand in front of them to demonstrate. Watching little tongues poke out in concentration as they stare at their own reflection in the mirrors. Hearing tiny exclamations of "yes!" when they do something they're proud of.
"Hi, Miss Phoebe!" Their chorus of greeting pulls gentle laughter from somewhere deep in my lungs. This room, this studio, feels so welcoming. Dancers, teachers, parents, staff. Everyone is here due to a love of dance. Like all of our hearts beat for the same reasons. It feels like home.
Home.
Harry and I moved into the pink shutter house almost immediately; him, Tate, Luna, and David forcing me to take it easy when I tried to help carry furniture inside.
"Hey, just go sit pretty and boss us around - tell us where to go and we'll listen. Your words are gospel." Harry widened his eyes in the direction of the front door pointedly when I tried to help carry his box spring inside.
I rolled my eyes and he kissed the side of my head while squeezing at my waist to make me jump. "I'm not incapacitated, I can help, y'know."
"I know you can, Bee, I know. But why don't you direct us where to go, otherwise we're just a bunch of brainless idiots. We need a leader."
Luna came up behind him, whacking the back of his head with a fake plant. "Speak for yourself, Halibut."
"Fine, you're not a brainless idiot, but your boyfriend? He's the worst." Harry's tongue poked out from in between his teeth as he teased Lune.
She nodded in response, raising her eyebrows. "You're telling me!"
"Heyyyy!" Tate whined as David and him walked past, juggling a dining room table between their hands.
"It's a good thing you're pretty, buddy." Harry pouted, sticking up his middle finger at his friend. Turning back to me, he wiped the smug look off of his face. "Now, would you put that leg up somewhere and take a break?" Reluctantly, and with a handful of bribing kisses, I listened, wandering back into my new home with a lamp in hand.
Everyone worked to set up the house, only stopping once for a pizza break when Diana brought Nate over. We all sat in the living room, surrounded by cardboard boxes with scrawled sharpie marker labels, eating and laughing. I had another one of those moments where I felt a little like I was watching the memory from the outside. The picture painting itself; embedding deep in my mind as it took place. Like freezing time for a snow globe scene - building miniscule sculptures of these people I desperately love so that I can always look back on it.
Not even two weeks later, Harry brought a stray cat home from the vet's office, smiling guiltily as he walked through the front door. "I know what you're thinking." He warned, one hand cradling the animal, the other raised in surrender. "But I have everything in the car - a litter box, toys, food, everything. Just look at her pretty little face, Bee." Harry's bottom lip poked out in a pout as he held her out to me - a fluffy little calico with a bright white belly.
I don't know why he thought I'd have any reaction different to the one that I had; especially with a kitten that cute. Gently, I took the small cat from his soft grip and she immediately curled up against my chest, purring like a motorboat. She was so tiny, probably only a few months old, and her ribs poked out from the fur across her belly.
"Harry, she's precious." I murmured, lifting her tiny body to kiss the top of her head.
"She's been hanging around the office to get food and I, uh, I play with her during my breaks." The fondness in his eyes as he looked at his kitten warmed my heart. "We can change her name, but I've been callin' her Wonton."
"Wonton!" I cried out, covering my mouth with a hand. She tilted her head up at me, kneading at my collarbone. "Hi, sweet girl, are you gonna be my little baby?" Wonton mewed in response before squirming to be let down. After setting her on the ground, I watched as she scampered off to explore, already making herself at home.
"So we can keep her?" Harry asked with stars in his beautiful eyes. He was like a kid in a candy shop, so innocent and bushy-tailed. So soft and tender. Endless oceans of love.
I stepped closer to him, cupping his cheeks in my palms, before connecting our lips smoothly. A few gentle pecks; a slower, deeper kiss. Harry's lips parted ever so slightly before we were interrupted by a loud cry from a hungry kitten. "Try to take her away and see what happens."
Wonton's become as much my cat as she is Harry's. Even though she usually ends up curled around his feet at night, her tiny paws patter behind my footsteps wherever I go. So, it only made sense to bring her to the studio every so often for the kids to play with during breaks. She meowed and meowed today until I pulled out the cat carrier, eager to come to work with me.
"Miss Phoebe, is Wonton here today?" one of the little girls, Naomi, asks as she makes a beeline for the corner of the room where there's a baby gate set up for the cat.
As if on command, Wonton starts swatting at a toy, crinkly plastic scattering across the wooden dance floor. The room erupts in gasps as the girls run to the baby gate, fingers gripping the edge as they peer inside to coo at her.
"Can we let her out, Miss Phoebe?" Jada's voice rises above the chatter, her brown eyes boring into mine the moment I turn my head.
"You know the rules, ladies, Wonton can come out to play during break and at the end of class as long as we all try our hardest." She nods in response, a determined look flooding her features, before turning back to admire Wonton, who is eagerly trying to climb up the side of the gate to get closer to petting hands. "Everyone come get your ballet shoes on so we can get started."
Somewhat reluctantly, the girls trudge to the middle of the floor to start class. Even though they're distracted, the minute we get started dancing, it's like nothing else in the world matters to them. That is, until the cat makes a sound. But Wonton loves the attention, and the girls love my sweet kitten, so I can't complain. The only one that gets a little jealous is Stitch.
Two days after he brought Wonton home, Harry asked me to meet him at the vet's office. I swore up and down he was a British Steve Irwin; pulling animals out of his ass. But all of the jokes shriveled up and died in the base of my throat when I walked through the front door to be met with a timid, shaking dog cowering in between Harry's legs. A greyhound. A marbled greyhound so fucking skinny that I could make out every bone in his body, but a greyhound nonetheless.
Harry bent down, lightly patting the dog to try to direct him towards me. He didn't move a muscle; not until I sat myself down onto the linoleum tile, cooing softly. Tentatively, he took a few steps towards me, head ducked way down and ears pinned back.
"Hi, sweet boy." I whispered, holding my open palm out towards him. "C'mere."
"Go see mama." Harry slowly slid down onto the floor, too, murmuring quietly. "We think he's around three or four. I called the rescue yesterday and they brought him over to get checked, but he's ours if you want him. Said he was racing underground in Sacramento and they've been holding onto him for a while. He might take a bit to warm up, but he's a sweetheart - 'was sniffing all of our equipment, and I caught a tail wag when I pulled out the treats."
I was too immersed in the dog before my eyes to say anything in response, but I felt my heart fill up with warmth, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. He's...perfect. The dog and Harry.
Eventually, he worked his way over to me, sniffing curiously at my hand and letting me rub his nose. I don't know how long we sat on the floor of the vet's office, but tears kept rolling down my cheeks, especially once he laid down in between my legs with his snout resting on my thigh.
"How are you so perfect?" I breathed out, rubbing the dog's - Stitch's - back. He wasn't asleep by any means, still not fully letting his guard down. But having him curled in my lap was more than enough for me. Baby steps towards trust.
Harry chuckled under his breath. He'd made his way over, leaning against my shoulder while Stitch warmed up to us both. "He's a good fuckin' dog, isn't he?"
"I wasn't talking about him, I'm talking about you." With a gentle whine, Harry pulled my chin so that he could plant a soft kiss against my lips. "Thank you. For him, and Wonton, and the house, and everything. So much has happened the past few weeks. I love you so much"
"Don't thank me, Bee." After leaving another kiss to my temple, Harry rose up to stand, collecting a leash and water dish from across the office lobby. "I'd do anything to give you everything you could possibly want. What do you say we take this sweet guy home?"
I nodded, reciprocating the love and helping to get Stitch ready to go. He looked precious wearing his light blue harness and peering up at me, his deep brown eyes full of twinkling stars.
Wonton and Stitch got along immediately, becoming the best of friends within a week or two of being home. Harry and I fell into a routine of taking my boy for walks after dinner and he swore up and down he was going to harness-train Wonton so that she could 'join family time,' too. Four months later and Wonton still hates her harness. But, he's trying.
"Miss Phoebe, can we meet Stitch, too?" I'm not sure how little Helen got the words out between pants after we finished a series of jumps.
All of the girls' eyes travel to Wonton in the corner, curled up to nap while she waits for class to finish. In between movements and 'dances,' I'm bombarded by questions. Some days about the animals, others about my favorite princess, sometimes they talk about their siblings and are shocked when I say I have a little brother who 'uses a machine to talk.' "Like a superhero?" Naomi was quick to ask, wonderstruck.
"Stitch needs to learn that people won't be mean to him before I can bring him to meet you girls." I try to explain before giving instructions to work us into the rest of class.
From a second position - a beautiful second position, might I add - Jada chimes in. "But we wouldn't be mean to him, we'd be sooo nice!"
"I know you would, but he's a little scared of people." I scrunch up my nose and some of the girls nod in sympathy. "Have you ever felt scared before?" A room full of nods. "And when you're scared you like to find an adult to make you feel better, don't you?" More nods. "But you might still get scared again, and you might still need someone to make you feel better. After a while, though, your brain won't think it's so scary anymore, huh?"
"So once Stitch isn't scared, he can come?" Helen jumps in, a wide smile on her face like she just cracked the code to all the world's secrets.
I nod, holding back laughter as the room erupts in cheers. "When I know my Stitch won't feel scared I'll bring him and Wonton, because you girls are just the nicest, hardest-working ladies in the whole wide world."
As much as it breaks my heart to leave Stitch at home, he's still not comfortable with people besides myself and Harry. He's happy to chase Harry around the backyard when he catches the zoomies, and him and Wonton nudge a ball back and forth as if they're playing with one another. But he's a mama's boy through and through. Stitch will cuddle up to me no matter where I sit, even if that means he's hanging half off of a chair; his tail whips around like nobody's business the moment I walk through the door; and he always falls asleep right next to my side of the bed.
Outside of our little home - our little family - he's still timid. He's started to warm up to Luna, and he loves Nate, but I don't blame him for being scared of everyone else. The world was intimidating before he was rescued - heavy and rigorous and unpredictable. The people who were supposed to take care of him did nothing but work him to exhaustion; hurt him. He's just a scared little guy; he just needs some stability.
The trust will come eventually, just like it did between him and Harry and I, we've just got to show him the good in the world. Show him that endless fields of grass mean freedom, not speed trials. That whistles mean we want to shower him in pets and cuddles and kisses, not kicks and hits and screams. My sweet Stitch just needs some time to build trust. I'd wait forever for him.
The hardest part of adopting our babies was knowing that I'd have to leave them once work started up. Joseph gave me full reign over my assigned classes, setting me up with dates and performances to work toward.
I've loved working with the kids - the young ones and the older ones. They are all so fucking sweet and I can see myself in them; the drive and passion, the joy and fear. In my college kids, the not-so-hidden pain. I make sure to give them a break - I make sure to force them to take a break. They get frustrated with me now, but they'll thank me someday.
My phone starts ringing across the room, so I call for a break. "Everybody take five minutes to stretch and drink water. Your adults are in the hallway, but let's try to stay inside, okay?" Some of the girls rush to watch Wonton, pulling the baby gate to the side to sit in the corner of the room with her. I hear her happily meowing like a skipping record track as I go to pick up my phone.
"Hi Bee, sorry to interrupt." Harry's voice echoes into my ear as I answer the call.
"It's okay, is everything okay?" I ask, watching as the dancers spread out throughout the room.
"Everything's fine. False alarm. Big man was just being stubborn and didn't want to talk. I finally got him to after he fucking rolled his eyes at me like you do, and he just kept hitting the 'eat' button over and over. The kid was just fucking hungry. He was acting weird all day long, we thought he was gonna have a seizure, and he was just hungry."
I can't help but laugh. That's just...so perfectly Nate. He got his device a couple months ago and really broke through with it for a few weeks. He couldn't really care less about it right now, which, although frustrating, is completely normal - the ups and the downs. He consistently uses 'eat,' 'more,' 'blueberry,' 'no,' and 'help,' and those words alone have made communicating so much easier. I don't know what we'll do when he's putting together sentences - we celebrate single words as if it's the greatest feat that has ever occurred.
The device has made Nate even happier, as if that was possible. I think it makes him feel like a part of the conversation; like he's being heard, and listened to, and understood. In turn, Diana glows. She looks at that precious boy like he's even more of a miracle than he already was. And I know Harry's excited for Nate to learn how to communicate better, too. He's spent so long pretending to have conversations with his little brother, and now he'll actually get to hear what's going through his head. God knows the kid's got a lot to say.
Still laughing, I pick up my water bottle and take a sip. "Well, I'm glad nothing was wrong." I hum as Harry rambles to Nate in the background about being 'such a pain in the ass.' "I've gotta get back to class, babe, thanks for letting me know."
"Absolutely - have fun with the girls, I'll see you at home in a little. It's Peking Tuesday, I'll go pick up dinner on my way, yeah?. Love you, honeybee." Harry makes a kissing noise to conclude his goodbye. No matter how many weeks pass of us living together, I still get butterflies every single time he says home.
"Yum. I love you too, see you in a bit." One of the girls runs to me, reaching up to tug on my shirt while I hang up with Harry. I crouch down to her level, straightening out the light pink tutu around her waist.
"Yes, Miss Bella?" She giggles when I poke her nose, scrunching it up while her little laugh echoes around the practice room.
"You said the 'L' word to a boy! Daddy says that's not allowed." Bella dramatically whispers, as if I just committed a cardinal sin.
I cock my head to the side, "Well, doesn't Daddy tell your other Daddy that he loves him?"
Bella ponders my counter question, tapping against her chin with her finger and holding my hand in the other. "Yeah, but 'dat's 'cause they're married."
"What if I told you I'm getting married to that boy in," I hold up two fingers, "two months. Is it allowed, then?"
I watch her eyes go wide - she wasn't expecting that.
I wasn't either.
It still doesn't feel real, despite the simple silver ring decorating my ring finger. A precious little reminder that I get forever with my Harry. A cycle; an infinity. An endless series of 8, but the circles in the number are little blueberries. Silly little love - like yellow dandelions and iridescent, shimmering bubbles. Deep meaningful love - like endless extensions of pointed toes and dark chocolate candies.
Two months ago, we were sitting at home - a random, ordinary Peking Tuesday. We'd gone together to pick up dinner and Meili gave us both the warmest hugs, her hand trailing my arm and eyes flickering between the two of us. I hadn't seen her in a while so I didn't think anything of it, just happy to be reunited; to catch up on Wonton and Stitch, her wife, the sweet boy they'd finally signed the papers to adopt.
Once she handed Harry our bag of food, the two of us headed back home, belting to the music in the car and being greeted by excited paws at the front door. My boy jumped up on our legs the minute the hinges squeaked - the kind of squeak that just feels like home - and I doted over him as if I hadn't seen him in years.
"I'll take Stitch out. Bee, can you get the chopsticks?" Harry asked while he unloaded the cartons of potstickers and rice. Wonton was in the process of trying to climb up his pant leg, eager to see her dad and get some love.
I swiped the cat on my way into the kitchen, letting her climb onto my shoulders as I pulled out the utensils - Harry had two sets of wooden chopsticks engraved with our names at the bottoms, so that I had 'no excuse to ever use a fork again.' Sometimes I'd use his pair to eat my leftovers while he was at work. It made me smile to look and see 'harry' carved forever into the piece of wood. Kind of like a tree carving into my heart.
As quickly as my boys left, they were back, and Harry ushered me to sit down, complaining about being hungry after the long day at the vet's.
"What do you want to do tonight?" I'd mused out loud, scooping up rice onto my chopsticks.
A flash of nerves passed through Harry's eyes, the grassy green turning sunburnt and kinked for a moment before washing into warm breeze. "Mmm, whatever you want, pretty baby. Something quiet."
I nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. What about a bath and a movie?" My foot kicked against his underneath the table and he was quick to trap it between his calves, holding it hostage.
"Sounds perfect." Harry divided our potstickers against the plate - two on his side, two on my side, one in the middle.
Conversation lulled while I ate, recharged when I swallowed, and lulled again when I took another bite. Harry...wasn't saying much of anything. He was just watching, observing. Like looking through glass at the zoo and admiring the lions padding across the dirt.
His eyes were fixated on me, but I could tell his attention was elsewhere; somewhere high in the atmosphere, floating through seas of blues on his very own cloud. Like he belonged there, somewhere beyond mortal capability; some kind of angelic creature trying desperately to focus his heavenly attention on me.
When we got to the last potsticker, Harry split it in half like usual, pushing one end to my side of the plate. I watched as he slowly nibbled the end of his half before holding the rest across the table to guide into my mouth. He couldn't meet my eyes while he fed me the piece of food, darting them quickly to the table before I could trap them in my own. I knew then something was up - something more than a busy day at work. I knew he'd tell me when he was ready, so I didn't push; I just tried to be relaxing, grounding. Provide him some sort of gravity while his feet were thousands of miles above solid earth.
I held out my hand which he gladly took, squeezing, then relaxing, then squeezing again. As if he needed the stability but was trying desperately to act normal. I guided Harry into the bathroom, closing the door to keep the animals from interrupting, and pushed him back against the counter.
"Is everything okay?" I asked, stretching my neck to leave a kiss against the side of his jaw.
Harry hummed from deep in his chest; little bouts of thunder. "Everything's perfect, honeybee." His hands found my waist and I could feel the tremble in his fingertips as he helped me out of my shirt.
"I love you, Harry, you know that, right?" His shirt was next to go, followed quickly by his pants and underwear.
"I love you. I think I fell in love with you that day I came running into the gas station like a banshee." Our lips molded together, gently, softly, lovingly. "You're too good for this goddamn world, I don't know how I got so lucky."
I swatted at his shoulder as he helped me out of my own pants. "Hey, what's all this sap about? Don't make me cry."
Harry smiled, a small sideways smile that pulled his dimple out, deep and beautiful in his cheek. "Just lovin' on my pretty baby." His thumbs traced against my burning cheeks, teeth pulling at his bottom lip, and he kissed me again. Quickly, nothing more than a fleeting peck that made me want so much more, before turning on the faucet.
The lavender candles on the counter wisped purple-tinged fire into the bathroom as we sunk below the water. Harry's hands traced across my body as if it was their first ever journey, delicate and exploring, soaking in the feeling of skin against skin. Warmth against warmth.
Our bath was fairly short, lingering touches fueling into more. Kisses, to trailing fingertips, to gripping palms, to intertwined fingers. The feeling of him filling me up, heightened by the weightlessness of being underwater. The feeling of his lips molding against mine as if they'd been created for that sole purpose. We didn't need anything more than each other. Carnal drive and loving warmth. Raw and vulnerable and grand, in its own quiet way. The violin solo in the midst of a symphony orchestra, or windchimes twinkling in tornadic winds.
I don't know who finished first; I don't even know if we both finished. Too lost in our bubble of pleasure, pleasure without the sex. Pleasure at the sheer proximity of one another. The magnetic relief of our souls attaching. Rapid and purposeful. Inevitable connection. The gravity between the sun and the earth; the rooting of the trees into soil. Pieces of nature so deeply intertwined with one another. Like my whole fucking world revolves around him.
Harry was quiet afterwards, holding me close in his lap, wet fingertips connecting droplets of water down my arms. His head was near buried in my neck, kissing lightly at the skin where his lips rested. My hands tangled into his curls, scratching at the top of his head for comfort.
He got out first, holding out a towel to wrap me in the moment my feet hit the floor, followed by hundreds of pecks that erupted a fit of giggles out of me. Harry's smile was magic. Confident. Assured.
We were curled up on the couch, music playing steadily throughout the house while my head was nestled in the space between his shoulder and chin, legs intertwined with one another. His hand rested against my thigh - pointer finger, pinky, and thumb squeezing lightly against my skin. I love you. Stitch was curled up against my other side, Wonton on Harry's. Our little family sat in the dark living room listening to quiet Phil Collins whispering around us.
His foot bobbed up and down endlessly, just fast enough that the candles on the coffee table rattled gently against one another. And he turned to me, green, gorgeous mountainside eyes shouting words I'd never heard - words I'm not sure even existed.
"We forgot to eat our fortune cookies." He'd murmured, slowly untangling himself from me. While he walked to the dining room, I could see him fiddling with the seam of his sweatpants. After our bath, I'd forgotten the weirdness in his behavior - his reluctance to speak, as if he needed to hear my voice and my voice alone; his nervous habits, messing with his hair and twisting things between his fingers. And as we cuddled on the couch, all that was on my mind was contentment. Happiness.
So...I really wasn't expecting anything.
Harry returned with our fortune cookies, placing one in my open palm. Stitch sniffed at it, but with a gentle pet to his head, he curled back into my thigh. "You go first." I nodded my chin in his direction.
A look crossed Harry's eyes, like that's the last thing he wanted to do. But, he cracked the fortune cookie and pulled out the slip of paper inside, nibbling on the broken pieces and smiling lightly as he read. "Good timber does not grow with ease; the stronger the wind, the stronger the tree."
I swatted at his arm, my jaw dropping open, "That's a good one!"
Harry flipped over his fortune and his smile widened, his eyes crinkling and dimple divoting in his cheek my telltale signs behind the flip of paper. "Lucky numbers: 74, 98, 4, 16, 8."
"Today's the fourth!" I bounced excitedly against the couch. "Babe, we've gotta go do something crazy, today's a lucky number day!"
Harry just laughed. Laughed like he couldn't believe the fortune; like he couldn't believe my words. "Okay, silly Bee, your turn." He gestured to my hands while burying his own underneath the blanket around our waists.
I broke my cookie in half, pulling out the fortune while still laughing at Harry. The paper was rolled up tightly like a scroll, or proclamation. Like royal words were etched across the little slip. I barely registered the lack of movement from Harry's chest as he held his breath, heart pounding mercilessly against his ribcage. My fingers fiddled with the fortune as I unrolled it.
My heart stopped. Stalled and steadied in my chest. Stage fright. Clinging tightly to the blood red auditorium curtains as the spotlight sun burned a ring into the stage. A paradox. Because every last inch of my body rushed with speeding warmth. An overflow of...everything. My eyes filled up with tears, skipping the pinpricks to fall straight into waterfalls of emotion.
My hand flew up to meet my mouth as I gasped out a quiet, "oh my god." It felt like noise ceased to exist - like sound met the air like a wave breaker. Crashing and dissipating back into the sea. I felt Harry shift against me, but my eyes were fixated on the slip of paper. I'm not sure where the cookie ended up, dropping out of my hand as I reread - goosebumps erupting across every inch of skin. Stitch probably snatched it up, but I couldn't process anything besides the pumping blood ricocheting through my veins.
Harry's hands rubbed soothingly across the tops of my knees and it was then that I realized I was crying; shaking violently as the emotions stormed rampant inside of me. It was then that I realized he had moved - was on one knee in front of me, white-knuckling a small, navy blue box. It was then that I finally processed the words on the fortune; that I processed every last moment of the night.
My sweet Phoebe...marry me?
"Oh my god." My voice breathed out on it's own. I couldn't control anything - the shake in my words, the shake in my hands, the incessant drumming of my own heartbeat, the reservoir pouring from my eyes.
"Honeybee." Harry choked up the moment he tried to speak and I watched the green of his eyes turn liquid. "I love you so much. I've never met someone who's made me feel more than you do. Like, I never understood how artists - painters, sculptors, photographers - could find so much inspiration in an individual person, but...now I get it. Because I see you, and I think everything you do is ethereal. I want the whole world to see you, I want the whole world to bask in you, because I swear to god that would cure...everything. You're everything. You're the best decision I've ever made; showing up at Dino's at 2 am was the best decision I've ever made."
His voice broke through my paralysis, melting me from the inside out. Tears rolled down his cheeks while he spoke, full of conviction and promise. Like he was speaking gospel. Words he'd shout into the sky, to prove to whatever god exists that he is mine and I am his.
"I love you, Bee. I feel like I've loved you forever, and there's no way I could ever stop. It's like I have infinite amounts of love for you."
Infinity.
8, tilted.
"I love you so much." I murmured through my tears, reaching to cup his cheeks in my palms.
Harry closed his eyes at the feeling, sinking into my hands for a moment of comfort. And then, I was blown away by his endless eyes as they stared into mine. Confidence twinged with a faltering worry. Love, and love, and love. Infinity.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.
"Phoebe. Sweet Bee." He opened the small box and I didn't so much as flicker my eyes down to it, too enthralled by his vulnerable, smiling face. Wanting to commit every inch to memory forever as the words slipped through his lips. "Will you marry me?"
"Of course."
No need for counting. I'd never been more sure of anything in my life.
Harry collapsed into my lap, kissing my knees through his sweatpants around my waist. He was muttering under his breath and it took me a few moments to clear the ringing in my ears to hear him. Endless cycles of "thank you" spinning into the air, floating between us, evaporating into more praises; more devotions.
I slid down onto the floor beside him, wrapping my arms tightly around his shoulders and pulling our lips together to speak impossible feelings. We sat on the floor, crying, and kissing, and crying some more. Harry guided the dainty ring onto my finger, stared at it, brought it to his mouth to kiss, and teared up all over again. Stitch hopped down off of the couch when our sniffles finally started to worry him, nudging his nose in between our connected torsos.
"It's okay, buddy, Dad's gettin' married to Mama." Harry reassured, filling and breaking my heart all over again. He looked at me, then - once the words were out in open air. He smiled at me in shock and joy, beams of pure, unfiltered sun shining from his expression. "We're getting married."
I nodded, laughing as more tears leaked onto my cheeks. "We're getting married."
Harry took a deep breath, guiding me to do the same, before he picked up my hand in his. "Nate helped pick it out. Luna gave me some insider knowledge, but I took big man with me. I hope you like it. He was really excited about this one."
My bottom lip pouted out at his confession and I was worried briefly that my heart really would burst. That there wasn't enough space in it for all of the love I hold for this beautiful man.
"Harry, it's perfect. You're perfect. I love you so much."
"I love you, too, Bee." He nuzzled into my neck and I squeezed him back, tucking myself into his protective warmth; into the home of his arms.
He held my body tightly to his. So tight that I could feel his heart, rhythmic against his chest. A calm, grounding, gentle metronome. Proof of his life. My favorite tempo, my favorite feeling, my favorite sound. Because it meant life. Each beat signaling more love, more joy, more passion. More Harry. I'd never get enough.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.
Bella looks up at me as if she experienced some revelation, nodding and squeezing my hand. "'Dat's allowed, Miss Phoebe. But can I see pictures when you do? Daddy shows me pictures when him and Papa got married and I wanna see pictures when you do."
My heart warms up as I laugh, patting her shoulder. "Of course I'll show you pictures, Bell, now let's go dance, okay?" With a giddy laugh, she skips back to her spot, whispering excitedly to her dancer friends.
"Okay, my girls, are we ready?" I ask the little ones. Their chattering voices quiet down as they all bring themselves to first position - posed and ready to dance. "Perfect! Look at those strong, beautiful dancers; thank you for listening. When the music starts, we're going to pretend we're on the big stage like we will be for our show for our adults on Saturday, okay? Ready?"
"5, 6, 7, 8."
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Thank you.
My heart feels so overwhelmingly full, and so completely broken all at the same time. I didn't expect this story to get the love it has gotten, and I am so unbelievably thankful for every last piece of it. I have a longer note for the end, so I'll refrain from saying much else here. But...this is it. The show is over, the final bow was taken, the curtains are drawn. Another series of 8, completed.
There's two epilogues left, but I'm not fully sure when I'll have them for you. Hopefully soon, but I don't want to make promises. When I know, I'll post on twitter. And, if you want to come chat, you can find me there, too: @/_screamingcolor.
Thank you, thank you, thank you. To you, and to them. I'll be back with them as soon as I can. Stay Gold. ♡
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.