"Do you believe me?
That I'll be right for you
Say you love me as you used to."
DOUBLE UPDATE!
-
THE AUCTION.
I wish life were simple.
If it were, I could have become a neurosurgeon and pursued my medical research. Maybe my father would still be here with my mother, and maybe I wouldn't have been deprived of love and a happy childhood.
Maybe I could've been normal – just been another nobody.
And maybe I'd still be able to have children. I'd have hope for the future, and maybe, I'd still have Harry. Maybe we'd be together and happy.
Maybe he wouldn't hate me.
But life isn't simple.
When I first saw him, I thought my mind had been playing tricks on me. I stopped breathing and began to shake with a fear that stabbed my soul.
Mason.
Seeing him after our breakup was always painful, not because I still loved him, but when I saw him, I was reminded of how weak I was. I'm reminded of how he used me, how he cheated on me, and how I allowed it because having some love was better than none.
He hurt me.
Just when I thought he couldn't possibly take anything else from me, he did. He stands on stage with that same smile I used to adore; only now can I see the depths of how wicked it was. My research was up for grabs. He was selling it – selling my life's work. He said it was "incomplete" but "promising." Then, he presented a flash drive—the words "human trials" and "successful" rang in my ears. The crowd began to whisper all around me.
Successful?
It worked?
All my research has been experimental. Dr. Thatcher and Mason worked alongside me for years as I started collecting data during my junior year in college. I wanted everything to be perfect before sending it to trials. Except, I never made it that far. I discontinued my work a long time ago, and now I'm watching it being sold.
Fuck. Did it really work?
Then, the bidding began, and for once in my life, I could see, face to face, the corruption of man. People were willing to steal somebody else's works for what – fame? Recognition? Reputation? Money?
I never wanted any of that. I just wanted to help people.
Even now, Mason makes me feel dirty. I've been played, lied to, cheated on, and used by him repeatedly. Even now, he strips me of my dignity. Even after he's out of my life, he's still using me.
I wasn't just hurt. Oh, I was far more than just that.
"Allie?" Its Louis. I hear his gentle voice from over the earpiece in my ear. "What are you doing, love?" The pity in his voice makes me miserable. "You shouldn't be out there."
I hear Harry's voice from my earpiece. He still sounds furious, and not having him in my corner right now is really breaking my heart. "What's going on?" He snapped. "I thought I told you to stay put-"
"It's Mason." Saying his name made this all so much worse. Saying his name made this real.
No, no, no.
"Oh my God," I said brokenly, and I felt weak and pathetic as I began to feel sick physically. What are they even doing here? What's going on? I rest my hand on my belly and say it again because I feel robbed of my own fucking life. "Oh, my God."
There's some static, but then I hear Harry. Was he running? "I'm coming," he tells me urgently, and I can't help but think how undeserving I am of him. "Just stay right there. I'm coming."
As I feel my world slowly unraveling, I stop breathing, my breath hitching in the back of my throat. A second strike of terror slashed through my chest and sliced me wide open.
A looming figure sticks out from the crowd. For a second, I'm unsure if what I'm seeing is real. My brain stutters as I struggle to realize the heavy foreboding I've felt all day has peaked. A chill drags up my spine when my eyes finally focus on the figure I had caught from the corner of my eyes. Whoever it is, worn all-black — military boots, cargo pants, and a black sweatshirt with the hood thrown over his head.
Something eerie and sinister fills the air and consumes me, pouring into the cracks of my mind as I begin to realize exactly who I'm staring at.
His face is unnaturally pale, and the corners of his thin lips are pulled up high to his ears – a disembodied, emotionless grin. His cheeks are a fire, cherry red, and his eyebrows are dark and curved. A fake, v-shaped mustache rested above his top lip, and a strip of dark hair went down the center of his chin. It's not hard to realize it's a mask — a mask I've been running from all my life.
It's as disturbing as the first time I saw it.
The person behind the mask tilts his head, looking down at me from the top of the stairs behind the banister. He's a whole floor above me, but I can still see how his fingers tightened around the Glock in his hands, which was hanging low by his side. He goes unseen, like a ghost to all those around him. Like a puppet on strings, he turns his head. I follow his gaze and notice the clock on the wall. We both look back at one another. Then, he taps the watch on his wrist.
Times ticking.
"Run," the words fall from my lips before my brain can jump into panic mode. I look around frantically and yell louder. "Run!"
I didn't register the explosion. In fact, when I open my eyes again, I can barely see straight. I can barely hear a thing – my ears falling deaf with static as the chaos around me reaches its peak. White dust fills the air like spores; it's hard to breathe. It hurts to move.
People are screaming, scattering, and stampeding away. I'm nearly trampled in the mess, and the claustrophobia strangled me. It's hard not to feel trapped or scared, especially when blood trickles into my eyes and I can barely see straight.
Through the sea of people all running for the exit, I see the masked man. The sight of him instantly sobers me up from my delirium. His figure had vanished from the spot I found him previously, and now he was striding in the opposing direction of the stampede, his eyes set on me.
Suddenly, something in me kicks into overdrive.
I'm living one of my worst nightmares.
He raises his gun and aims. He doesn't have a clear shot, but that doesn't stop him from pulling the trigger.
That man is going to kill me, and he's only known by one name.
Invictus.
-
Allies POV
Six Hours Prior...
The door slamming open scared me so badly that I yelped.
I look up, heart thumping in my chest; I don't know what to focus on. His bruised knuckles, his disheveled hair and wrinkled clothing, or the bags under his eyes. After assessing him and realizing he's not hurt, I look back down at my book, lick my finger and flip the page.
"..."
"..."
"Really?" He starts kicking off his shoes.
"Yep," I'm not angry, but I'd be lying if I said I was happy about Harry leaving last night. "That's what happens when you stay out till seven in the morning."
Harry leaving in the middle of the night last night, without me, is something I didn't take well at all.
Not one bit.
Knowing that security would be outside the door did little to console me. Knowing that the boys were going with him was the only thing that stopped me from following Harry again. They wouldn't let anything happen to him, and they didn't, just like I expected.
He had left around three in the morning, and well, I've been up ever since too. However, after six hours of being away, he barges into our room, looking miserable as hell.
"Fine," he sighs, and honestly, his response makes me panic a little bit. Was he okay? I stay quiet, worry brewing in my gut as he enters the bathroom and locks the door behind him.
Instantly, some guilt washed over me.
I can only wait for him now, so I look down at my book again and try reading again. It's impossible, really. I was starting to get desperate to be near him, so no, my eyes didn't scan the words on the page; they remained stagnant and clouded with worry.
When Harry emerged from the bathroom with a towel low on his hips, I suddenly fixed my posture and kept my head down. I know I'm being a little unreasonable, but I'm still a little grumpy that he had to leave. I understand why, but being left alone in a cold bed without him in such an unfamiliar place was horrible for me.
As he shuffled around in the room, I started to feel even worse, especially when his side of the bed dipped.
Just as I start to think I have taken this charade too far, I feel him move closer to me, wrapping his arms around my torso, his hand resting right beneath the swell of my breast under my shirt, where his thumb gently rubs my skin. He chuckles at how quickly I scooted back, shrinking the space between us. His laugh was such a relief as he happily obliged and held me closer as I wanted.
Feeling how warm he is, the weight on my chest lifts as I melt into him.
We're okay.
"You're the most stubborn women I know," he sighs, his breath fanning my neck.
When I settle, and my heart slows to a steadier beat, I start reading again, happy and content that he's back here in bed with me. "Slow down," he grumbled against my ear suddenly when I went to turn the page too fast for his liking. Blinking a few times, I wait a bit longer. When I turn the page a few seconds later, he doesn't say anything this time. I went ahead and finished skimming the next two pages. A force of habit, I guess. I've always been able to read fast.
So I wait and wait, but then he says, "hurry 'nd turn the page." When I flipped to the next page, I read as I usually did and opted to wait for Harry to tell me when he was ready. I liked this because it gave me time just to appreciate being in his arms while doing something so simple and mundane with him. At one point, I assumed he was too tired to speak, so he tapped my hip with his thumb three times. When I turned the page, he let out a soft sigh. Just like that, we found our rhythm.
I found a whole new reason to love reading.
He moves slowly under the sheets after being still for about an hour. I can hear the tension as he sighs, his hot breath fanning over my neck.
"...Harry?"
"Tired," he offers a one-word response. "I'm exhausted, baby." Something in me shifts when I hear him speak so weakly. I put the book down on my nightstand before I turn to face him. I wanted to hold him, but I didn't have to move because he took the initiative.
He crawls over me, my legs on either side of his hips as he lowers himself down, his chest pressing into mine. He digs his face into my neck and now lets out a much more content sigh as he eases all his weight onto me.
Oh.
"O-okay," I ease underneath him. Instead of fixating on how shocked I am, I choose to enjoy this and get comfortable underneath him. I drag the blanket over us, and then I start massaging his scalp, gently pulling his hair before letting go just how he likes it before I close my eyes too.
Two nights ago, the night I met Marcello, Harry, and I barely slept. Yesterday, he took me all around the city to explore all day. Last night, we were asleep for only three hours before his father called and asked him to handle some things. He hasn't slept much these past few days, and seeing how in twelve hours we'll be doing a heist, he needs his sleep.
My stomach churns at the thought of the heist. My anxiety grows, but it's overpowered by my urgency to take care of Harry. "Everything okay, right?" He hums to assure me. Good. I ease again.
It's quiet; I don't know for how long. It was nice to have undisturbed silence where I could just hold and breathe him in.
He's such a baby when he's tired.
A raspy groan makes me open my eyes. "Can't sleep." He grumbles against my neck, holding me tighter.
I bite my lip and blink away my sleepy haze. I want nothing more than to help him, but how?
I let my lips brush past his ear. I tap his side with my hand and tell him, "lay on your back." When he doesn't move, I start pushing his shoulders back, peeling him away from my body which surprisingly makes him laugh.
"Stop, no, please," he pleads between unblemished laughter that he tries to suppress. He goes slack and lays on me like a sack of potatoes, nearly crushing me.
I relent and laugh, too, trying harder this time to move his dead body weight. When I finally manage to push him onto his back, he flops on the bed with a loud oof. He whines. "Babe, I was so comfy- oh."
When I swing my legs over his hips to straddle him, he looks genuinely surprised. It's kind of thrilling, getting reactions like this out of him as he lies underneath me. I don't know where the sudden swell of confidence came from, but I took it in stride and ran with it. "Can I help?"
He can't sleep; he's tired and all cute and pouty. He's putty in my arms. I love being with him, touching him, fucking him. I want to look after him, care for him, and make him feel better, and I know the perfect way to tire him out.
His sleepy smirk drives me mad. "Since when-"
"Will you let me take care of you?" I ask, staring down at him. I rest my hands on his chest and wiggle my hips. I bite my lip, fighting a smile at the way he looks up at me, dumbfounded.
"Take care-" I swirl my hips, swallowing down a soft moan when my clit rubs against his growing erection. It's definitely a confidence booster, knowing it doesn't take much from me to get him this excited.
His question dies on his tongue, and he quickly squeezes my hips before letting out a breathless laugh and closing his eyes. I ask him another question, my nails tracing his skin as I go down, down, and down. His reaction sends a thrill up my spine. "Are you ready for me to do everything I want for you?"
"Yea," he nods, caught between a hum and a moan. I giggle at how comically wide his eyes get. I love catching him off guard. So, I lean forward, slotting my lips with his, and kiss that dopey look off his face. When I pull away slowly, I hear the soft smacking of our lips and find myself wanting to kiss him forever. "Please take care of me," I can't help but nod and run my hands up his naked chest. Of course, I would take care of him.
My hands go for his pants, and he sits back and watches me undress him. Not faltering under his gaze like I usually do, I grab his erection and free him from his boxers and briefs. His cock arches back and lay against his belly, aching for me to touch him. I don't keep him waiting for long. I spit in my hand before grabbing him, and I bite my lip when I feel him throb in my hands.
"Allie-" he gasps.
I kiss his chest, his neck, and his cheeks, avoiding the lips that chased mine. With my other hand, I push my panties to the side, and I feel between my legs gasping when I rub my clit. I was already so soaked for him. I push myself up so I'm hovering over him and tease the tip of his cock at my entrance. Then, I dipped the head of his dick inside of me, just barely, before moving and swirling his tip around my clit. Watching him squirm beneath me makes my pussy ache for him. I'd love to take my time teasing him a bit more and watch him fall apart a few times over gentle ministrations – bend him to my will – but I need him just as badly as he needs me. So, I move and line him up with my entrance before finally sinking down on him.
He groans, head falling back on the pillow. He squeezes my hips. "Fuck," he curses.
I lean back, bracing myself as I put my hands on his knees and lift my hips slightly before lowering again with a slow, shallow roll of my hips. It was unhurried but enough for his eyes to roll back, and his breathing became shallow.
I got him right where I wanted.
Every roll of my hips, like a growing fire, my pleasure builds and builds to the point where I let go of all inhibition and listen to the needs of my body and his. My eyes fluttered shut, and my head fell back as I just enjoyed slowly riding him.
He feels amazing.
He sits up suddenly, his hands finding the small of my back as he leans forward, kissing me sloppily as he lets me ride him. "You're-" his breath hitches, and he grunts. "You're perfect. Fuckin' perfect."
Even when consumed with the heaviness of lust, he manages to make me blush. I feel the flutter of butterfly wings low in my belly, and I can't help but moan when I feel my pussy throbbing around him. I move, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him hard just as I raise my hips higher and slam down on him a bit harder. He sucks and kisses my neck, squeezes, and hips my tender breast that were concealed under one of his black cotton t-shirts that I was wearing. He seems to be enjoying this as much as me, and knowing I can have him all flushed red, panting – a moaning mess beneath me – does things to me I can't quite put into words.
I love the intensity. I love the longing and the needy way his body reacts to mine.
"-my god." My head falls back when my clit brushes his pelvic bones. My nails dig into his skin, and he moans my name against my neck. He squeezes my ass and helps guide my hips when my rhythm falters.
"Y-you always make me feel so good," I whimper, moving my hips a little faster. "You," I gasp out against his lips. "Only you." I move faster, whimpering. "Always been you."
"Me?" he whispers against my collarbone, almost like he doesn't believe me.
I nod eagerly before humming, "Mhm." I maintained the slow roll of my hips because I knew if I went any harder, we'd both cum quickly, and I wanted him for as long as I could have him.
I brush his hair back when the sweaty strands fall forward. He tilts his head back, and I kiss him long and meaningfully. When I pull away, I murmur, "I love your smile." Then, I kiss his lips again, but he smiles so hard he breaks it. I move my hands to cup his cheeks, my thumbs tracing over the dimples that I love so much. He gives me butterflies again, and that giddy feeling intensifies the growing bud of taught, burning pleasure in my belly. I don't go crazy fast. It's more of a leisure pace that I move at – a slow build-up that we were drowned in.
He groans suddenly, his voice tight and taught. "'M gonna cum, sweetheart."
I can't help but bite my bottom lip to restrain an enticing smile that's laced with passionate desire as I gaze at him underneath me. "Where do you want it?"
"In you," he says without hesitation. "-if you'll let me," he adds, struggling to get his thoughts out coherently. "Shit." he ruts up into me by accident. I push him back down, bracing myself by placing my hands on his chest and rolling my hips quicker, feeling him hit deeper inside me with long strokes.
"L-Love it when you cum in me." Finally, he relented and fell back down to the bed and let me fuck him how I pleased. I slam my hips down, and a soft smacking of our skin fills the room.
I grabbed him by the face, pushing off my orgasm as long as I could. "Look at me," I demanded rather than begging. When he opens his eyes, his pupils are blown wide. He smirks a bit, lazy and enticing before he angles his hips slightly.
I slam down on him a few more times, helpless, wrecked moans falling from my lips before my vision goes white with the intensity of my orgasm that crashes through my body. Utter bliss consumes me as my muscles contract and release, my head tilts back, and I hold him tightly. It happens quickly, but he takes me by surprise and flips me over, laying me on my back before rutting into me again.
I wanted to fight him on this. I wanted to ride him and do all the work so he could sit back and enjoy this, but my fight is thrown out the window when sloppy, lewd, wet sounds fill the room as he pounds into my wet pussy. He fucks the fight out of me, so I relax and let him take control back. I knew that if I asked him to do anything, especially right now, he'd do it without a second thought. Knowing that makes me feel safe, and my heart beats a bit faster.
I whimper against his ear, encouraging him, moaning with each snap of his hips. "Just like that-" I gasp. "Fuck me just like that. Please don't stop, baby."
"Christ," he hisses before he grabs me by the jaw and catches my attention before repeating the same words I told him earlier. "Look at me."
With three words, the pleasure begins building again, and my pussy throbs around him as I make my way toward my second orgasm. I look at him and don't falter under his gaze. Instead, I push and urge him on. "C-C'mon, baby," I beg him as he fucks me. "Cum in me. Please."
When his warm cum suddenly fills me, I relish the way he falls apart above me, in my arms. I sigh at the feeling because I feel warm. When he pulls out of me, it's moments later. I groan in protest, but he keeps his hands on my body to let me know he's not going anywhere. Instead of laying in bed next to me as I expected, he hooks his hands behind my knees and pushes my legs before leaning down and licking up from my used hole to my clit.
It's like lightning flashes through my body as I feel him and swallow my cum and his. He sucks my swollen clit and flicks it tenderly, working me through my second orgasm, my hand clasping his curls when my back arches and my head falls back. When he's done cleaning up the mess, he moves to kiss me, and I do so happily, licking our cum off his glistening lips.
Slowly, he moves to rest his body weight on top of me, and when he settles, he breathes deeply, making me chuckle a bit. I wrap my arms around him, hugging him. "Tired now?"
He nods. "...very." He kisses my neck before rolling off of me and settling beside me on the bed. His laugh was weak, and he looked dazed. "You're- you're a switch."
I run my fingers through his hair again, smiling to myself. "I'm starting to think you are too, Harry."
He laughs again, looking up at the ceiling. "You think I'm a switch?" He asks, smiling but looking a little surprised when I nod and agree. He looks away, and I suddenly smile when I see how shy he looks. "... it's only for you."
My brows pinch together, but I don't stop smiling. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," he runs his finger down my spine. "The only woman I will ever submit to is you."
Well, what am I supposed to say to that?
"Why?" I ask in a shy whisper. If I really wanted all of the control, would he give it to me willingly?
His smile is so soft with exhaustion, but I still catch that impish smirk of his. "Cuz, why not?"
I roll my eyes at his half-assed response before I kiss his forehead. He squeezes me in return. "Go to sleep, H. I'll wake you up in a few hours. Promise."
He hums against me. "...thank you."
-
Three Hours Prior...
I hear his voice before I see him. "I knew you'd wear that dress."
I smile so hard my cheeks hurt, but the embarrassment keeps me from moving. I could feel his eyes on me, but I was too nervous to look up into the mirror or over my shoulder to spot him. My heart skips a beat before going into overdrive when I hear his unrushed footsteps coming closer to me. "I thought you liked the black one."
His fingers trace my skin like butterfly kisses before brushing my hair to the side. His hot breath fans the skin of my neck, and I even found myself tilting my head to allow him more access. Finally, my eyes focus on the mirror before me, and my breath is robbed of my lungs. In our reflection, I see him smiling against my neck before kissing me right below my ear. "Guess I jus' know my girl."
He's held me like this before, but something about being able to see – not only feel – how he touches me is-
Well, it's indescribable.
I had woken up about an hour ago, leaving Harry asleep in bed as I showered, and did my hair and makeup. He needed sleep, and I was trying to give him as much shut-eye as possible before we had to leave.
After I had got out of the shower and tiptoed to the walking closet to sort through the outfits I bought for this trip, there were, conveniently, three dresses hanging on a hanger with three pairs of matching heels and a note.
The black one is my favorite.
I bit my lip when I recognized Harry's handwriting. When did he have the time to do this for me?
Just like the last time he picked out dresses for me, I tried them all on. I was a little sad I didn't have Maggie to help me decide which dress to wear this time around, but I knew I'd see her soon.
I miss her so much, though.
Eventually, the butterflies in my belly faded and were replaced by uncertainty and indecisiveness. The black dress and the burgundy were beautiful in their own right, but when I got to the last dress, I paused. I breathed and stared.
Like always, the scars that are always the hardest to hide are the ones on my back and arms, and they're slightly visible in this dark, royal green dress. God, I loved this dress, but I didn't love my body. To be clear, I don't hate my body. I just hate what's happened to my body because none of it was my choice.
Not all my scars were horrible, though. Some I got from scraping my knees as a kid after a game of hopscotch, and the scar I have on my elbow is after taking a bad fall playing basketball with my father. The others, though, are just burdens to me. They're like chains that have bound me to hell.
The last thing I needed was people staring, judging, or, god forbid, asking me how I got them. To avoid all of that, covering them is just easier.
So, even if I loved this dress, I hesitated.
That's why It's hard to look away from the mirror when Harry brushes my hair to the side and kisses my neck with his soft lips. His kisses trail up my neck, his hot breath fanning against me, and I melt, my tense body finally easing into the lifevest of his arms.
He glances at our reflection in the mirror again, his green eyes gazing through long lashes. Holding me from behind, his lips brush past the shell of my ear as he says, "I won't let anyone hurt you again," he promises me, and his promise holds such gravity I feel my eyes begin to burn suddenly. "You're beautiful in every kind of way."
I'm just a big ball of pent anxiety and fear, and Harry saw right through me.
When my thoughts spiral, they flow like a river, brutal and unrelenting, destroying everything in its path, but Harry pushes back against the flow. The water doesn't even phase him.
He tells me that I'm beautiful as I am, and he has no idea what that does to me. In so many words, he accepts me; he's not disgusted at the sight of me, and for the first time, I start to believe him.
For a brief moment, I wonder if this is where I'm meant to be.
With him; in his arms, with his lips all over me.
"You told me that, remember?" He murmurs against my skin before peering up through dark lashes and looking at the mirror before us. He looks at us with a pleasant smile.
I tilt my head and rack my brain for answers. Did I say that? "No, I never did," I tell him, shaking my head. I would have remembered if I had told him something like that. "But- you are!"
He chuckles before kissing my cheek next. His lips linger there for a moment as his body moves, his hands gripping my hips firmly, his thumbs rubbing the fabric of my dress. "You have told before. In so many words..." he trails off.
It comes to me instantly. It washes over me and drags me away in its riptide. It's exhilarating and terrifying — a beautiful chaos of all wonderful things.
I love him.
I know I do because if I think of a world without him, I get scared. I get angry. I get protective. I get desperate. Hot pain flashes over me just at the thought of not being able to kiss his dimples again or kiss his perfect lips or hold his warm hands.
I want to be able to give him flowers again and see the way a soft pink blush stains his cheeks. I want to sing along to every song on the radio with him. I want to dance with him and write poetry about him; l want-
I want him.
He makes me want it all, and with him, it feels like I have it all.
I love him.
I'm not now just realizing I love him. I'm just now understanding the depth to which my love reaches. When it comes to him, it feels infinite.
We feel infinite.
He's stillness in my world of chaos, and I love him.
God, I love him.
More than anything, I want to tell him. I want to scream it to the world because I love sharing wonderful things with him, but-
My mind snaps back to reality. I perceive our reflection and see the smile that was slowly growing on my face be replaced by utter panic.
"Oh fuck me."
Harry gives me a bewildered, wide-eyed look. "Huh?"
"Shit- nothing. It's nothing!" I turn around in his arms, my hands brushing over his shoulders, chest, and arms — have his arms always been this big?
My fingers must have dug into his muscles a little bit, and he yanks back from me, a startled snort falling from his lips.
And hearing his unblemished laughter was like being submerged in warm water. That's right. Harry is ticklish—really ticklish.
"Awe-"
"Nope, shut up." It's hard for him to keep a straight face with the bubbly laughter tumbling from his lips. "I don't want to hear it."
I laugh, and that pull I feel in my chest, my body, my soul, drags me back to his arms where I belong. I kissed him, and this kiss was utter bliss. With the way he kisses me back, he kisses me hard. It's messy and interrupted again and again by his boyish laughter. How could I not laugh with him?
I hope he knows that I'd take his rain over any sunshine. I'll take his flaws, his mistakes, his past, his everything.
I could barely call my heart mine anymore.
I love hard: fully, completely, and utterly. I hated it because people abused it. In the end, I was always left empty-handed. But Harry? He lifts me up. He's gentle with my heart. I feel safe with him.
We can't fix each other's brokenness, but we can heal together. We can laugh together. We can be sad together; we can be happy together. We can do it all together.
We could hate the world together.
We're not perfect, but we try to be better for each other. Harry didn't always hold me like this. Our first kiss was anger, frustration, and lust. It wasn't anything as soft, as beautiful as it is now. Back then, I didn't know he loved flowers. Back then, I didn't know music reminded him of his mother. I didn't know his favorite color was pink, and I didn't know he played piano and could sing as the angels do. I didn't know he was afraid of forgetting or being forgotten as his mother did him.
In the beginning, he was just another man I was afraid of.
Look at us now, only three months later. Such a short time for what feels like forever.
I don't know everything about him. He certainly doesn't know everything about me, but it's as if our past never existed when we were together. I see him. He sees me. We move forward.
I don't know what it is. My soul just feels at peace when he's with me.
How am I to put all of this into words? I've read dictionaries, thesauri, and encyclopedias, and no matter how hard I wrack my brain to recollect, not a single word captures just how profound my feelings are.
So what do I say?
I wanted to keep this moment close to me, selfishly, and hide it from the world. It's one of the few safe and pure memories I'll forever hold – the day I realized that I was in love with Harry.So, for right now, I settle for nothing.
Eventually, we pulled away for air, and his nose lightly bumped mine. I let my hands travel up his arms where hands then grab his tie, pausing for a moment when I realize the tie matches the color of my dress. I smile, feeling so nervous under his soft and intense stare. With slightly shaking hands, I begin tying his tie.
Cross. Around. Over. Through. Pull.
I try to ignore the way his breathing quickens when I look back up at him. A faint smile tugs at my lips.
Harry clears his throat before gulping. "Allie, I, uh, I have something for you."
"Wha-" He grabs my hand, his other hand digging around in his pocket before he finds whatever it is he's looking for, which turns out to be-
Oh.
It's a ring. A diamond ring perched prettily in a velvet casing. "Is it-"
"Yup," he says with a nod.
He presents it to me, holding it between his thumb and pointer finger. He gives me a wide-eyed look, searching for approval. Somehow, I manage to smile despite my body falling incredibly still. He lifts my left hand and puts the ring on my ring finger.
He steps back far too quickly for my liking, but he starts digging around in his pocket before he pulls out his own ring. "Wait," I step forward, grabbing his forearm gently. "I wanna do it." To be honest, it came out as more of a desperate whine.
He glimpses at me but doesn't say anything. He looks lost and unsure, but he just relents and lets my hands do the work of slipping the ring on his ring finger. I know it's for appearances, but it was scary how good, how right, it felt. "Good, baby?"
"Yeah," his voice wavered. He pulled me closer by the waist a little forcefully, but it was nothing terrible. He was just eager, and I loved that. "Can I kiss you?"
Thrown off by his question, I tilt my head with a furrowed expression which seems to make him even more nervous. Did he think I was going to tell him no? I wasn't. I won't. So, I leaned forward and kissed his lips because, yes, of course, he could kiss me. I was his before I even knew it.
He has me.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He whispers to me on a more serious note. "You can stay here if you're uncomfortable doing this-"
"No," I say firmly, shaking my head. "I promised you I'd help you get your mothers to ring back. I'm not breaking that promise."
He stares at me for a beat longer than I expect, probably trying to find cracks and a lack of assurance in my own tone.
He nods nevertheless but gives my hand a firm squeeze before letting go. "I've got you," he tells me. "I won't let anything happen to you."
I believe him. Down to every cell in my body, I believe him.
̶I̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶t̶r̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶m̶y̶s̶e̶l̶f̶.̶
-
My anxiety has been eating away at me all day, and try as I might, I couldn't hide it from Harry. He was worried about me; I could see it in his eyes and could hear it in the gentleness of his voice when he spoke to me with this newfound patience (his patience is usually thinner than a knife's edge). There was more to my worry than my scars or which dress I was going to wear, and I think we bother knew that. Behind my insecurities was a deeper worry, and Harry was distracted trying to figure it out.
My worries weren't a burden I wanted to dump on Harry. How could I even begin to explain the dark web of thought and temptations swirling through my head? So, I found a moment to slip away to find silence. Silence was safe. Silence gave me the space to feel and think; however, it wasn't a good realization I stumbled upon once I was able to analyze what my real issue was.
She was back.
She inhales gray smoke; a wrinkled tobacco stick had a crawling stench to it. There was something rotten in her eyes as she took each drag as if she was perversely lured by that morbid thought to punish all those who had caused her pain; She had been a drowning victim since childhood. Now in adulthood, she cursed those who struggled beneath her feet rather than remaining stagnant–a prisoner.
Bitter. She was bitter.
She was my shadow, a reflection of me. Yet, we are not the same. With a mask, she mimics my voice of reason, and, like a fool, I believed her time and time again. But I knew all her tricks now. I wasn't going to fall for them again.
Whenever I wanted to run, she told me to fight. Whenever I got angry, she told me to smile before going in for the kill. Whenever someone hurts me, she tells me to ruin them.
Vengeance.
Retribution.
Justice.
I take a long drag. Whenever I have hope, she crushes it to ash and says she needs to remind me of where we came from. I was only twenty-three, and practically two decades of my life were wasted because of her.
Twenty years of darkness, twenty years of broken, twenty years of anguish, twenty years of chains.
T̶̶̶̶̶̶̶w̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶n̶̶̶̶̶̶̶t̶̶̶̶̶̶̶y̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶y̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶a̶̶̶̶̶̶̶r̶̶̶̶̶̶̶s̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶o̶̶̶̶̶̶̶f̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶a̶n̶g̶e̶r̶,̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶t̶̶̶̶̶̶̶w̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶n̶̶̶̶̶̶̶t̶̶̶̶̶̶̶y̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶y̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶a̶̶̶̶̶̶̶r̶̶̶̶̶̶̶s̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶o̶̶̶̶̶̶̶f̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶s̶̶̶h̶̶̶a̶̶̶m̶̶̶e̶̶̶,̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶t̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶w̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶n̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶t̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶y̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶y̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶a̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶r̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶s̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶o̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶f̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶t̶̶̶o̶̶̶r̶̶̶m̶̶̶e̶̶̶n̶̶̶t̶̶̶,̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶t̶̶̶̶̶̶̶w̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶n̶̶̶̶̶̶̶t̶̶̶̶̶̶̶y̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶y̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶a̶̶̶̶̶̶̶r̶̶̶̶̶̶̶s̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶o̶̶̶̶̶̶̶f̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶p̶̶̶̶̶̶̶u̶̶̶̶̶̶̶s̶̶̶̶̶̶̶h̶̶̶̶̶̶̶i̶̶̶̶̶̶̶n̶̶̶̶̶̶̶g̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶v̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶r̶̶̶̶̶̶̶y̶̶̶̶̶̶̶o̶̶̶̶̶̶̶n̶̶̶̶̶̶̶e̶̶̶̶̶̶̶ ̶̶̶̶̶̶̶a̶̶̶̶̶̶̶w̶̶̶̶̶̶̶a̶̶̶̶̶̶̶y̶̶̶̶̶̶̶.̶̶̶̶̶̶̶
Smoke filters my lungs when I take another drag, but I still feel unsatisfied. I've spent twenty years trapped in a prison I created. She was heads, and I was tails. She flips the coin with a smile, but the coin has yet to land. It was a waiting game.
In moments like this, she makes it hard to remember what I'm fighting for.
A future.
A future where Maggie grows up happy and loved, and a future where I wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere, a bullet to my head; a future where I could change and be the person I always wanted to be, not the person I was forced to be.
One more time, I tell myself, taking a steady breath. Just one more time.
For Harry.
Sometimes, you have to be something you don't want to be to survive.
A̶ ̶n̶i̶g̶h̶t̶m̶a̶r̶e̶?̶
No.
But I'm not losing anyone, no matter the cost. Not again. So, if the coin lands on heads, so be it.
I don't feel lonely with Harry. I couldn't imagine going back to the way my life was before him. The passionate, even toxic intensity of the emotions I'm feeling drove my mind to dark places, and well-
I can't run from myself.
Just then, Liam walks out onto the front porch as well, looking pleasantly surprised to see me. I straighten my posture in my dress and clear my throat.
I make sure to smile before getting a better look at him. "Hey."
"Harry is lookin' for you, ya know," he muses, walking toward me. "Why are you out here by yourself?"
"I'm just-" I swallowed, gesturing to the cigarette in my hands. "takin' a smoke break," I tell him, laughing softly to lighten the mood as best as I can.
He scoffs. "You're shite at lying."
I purse my lips.
He'd be surprised.
"It's just," I sigh, relenting a bit. "I-If things go wrong, I don't-" I pinch my eyes closed when the thought of Harry getting hurt suddenly stabs my heart and rips it clean open.
̶T̶h̶e̶r̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶t̶e̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶I̶'̶d̶ ̶d̶o̶.̶
"Nothing is going to go wrong," Liam tries assuring me, lighting his own cigarette. "And if it does, we're not dying today, Allie."
"You don't know that," I challenge, offering him a cigarette from my packet. When he accepts my offer, I hand him my lighter too. He hangs the stick between his lips and cups a hand around the flame he flicks to life with the lighter. He inhales until it catches, and he sucks down the smoke before letting out a slow, unrushed breath. The smoke swirls and dissipates above his head before he hands me back my lighter.
It could be anyone at any moment, and he knows that. Death takes no days off, yet, he smiles. "Nah. Not today." When he takes another hit from his cigarette, he seems to be appreciative of the smoke that fills his lungs.
"Thank you," he says suddenly. "for looking after Harry." He smiles before reaching forward to grab my hand to kiss my knuckles.
My eyes flutter. "H-huh?"
"Harry's always been an asshole, but when you came along, he started acting less asshole-ly."
I laugh, my stomach doing nervous flips. "I don't uh- I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to thank you for making my brother happy."
I raise my brows. "...Brother?"
"Oh, were not," he laughs, waving me off. "Not biologically, but after everything we've been through, I'd say hell yeah, he's my brother."
"I'm sorry," I suddenly excuse my awkward behavior. He really did catch me off guard just now. "I wasn't expecting you to want to talk to me." I thought the boys just tolerated me on a good day. Niall makes it very clear that's the case for him.
"So what? You thought me and Louis didn't like you?" He scoffs. "Try not to take what Niall says too personally. He can be a dick, but you see what we are, what we do. Letting people get close can be dangerous, especially outsiders, and well, Niall would do just about anything for Harry. All of us would."
"I'll be honest," he begins again. "Harry may trust you, but we don't. We've seen what people are capable of," I give a meaningful hum. "but we appreciate you. Even Niall, who'd rather shoot himself than admit that."
I deeply appreciate Liam's thoughtful response. It was nice to hear that Harry trusts me. It made me feel warm on the inside. "Thank you for that," I murmur. "I appreciate your honesty."
He gives me a cheeky grin. "I'm not surprised Harry picked a beautiful woman."
"So um," I clear my throat, pushing back my blush after hearing the words Harry's woman. I swallow. "H-How did you and Harry meet?
Liam looks up at the sky, and surprisingly, he grins. "I met Harry when I was about fifteen. I was, uh," he laughs as he recalls the memory. "I was getting jumped. It was two against one, and he kinda just jumped in. Though, I don't think he wanted to actually help me. I think he just wanted a reason to fight someone." We both laugh. I can't say I'm surprised. "But, I'm persistent," Liam quips. "I started trying to be his friend, and at first, he didn't like it very much. Once he found out I was in the foster care system and constantly moving around to different homes constantly, he invited me to join this boxing gym his stepfather used to own. When I turned eighteen, I just never really looked back. We were family as far as I was concerned."
I perk up a bit. "Are you talking about the gym in Brooklyn?"
Liam looks surprised. "You know about that?"
"Yeah! I went once before. I think what Harry does there is amazing."
Liam marvels at me with a bemused grin. "Well, I'll be damned." He takes another drag from his cigarette, warm mirth settling in his eyes. "When I joined the gym, he looked after me; even if he wouldn't admit it, he did." A grim look crosses his features then. "But one day, some asshole kids were making fun of him after-" he hesitates. "after his mother passed and we'll-" when he smiles, it looks painful. "I started beating their fucking asses. He joined in, too, after that. After that day, I guess we really became friends."
Finally, he turns his head to face me as he speaks. "We all choose to follow him," Liam tells me. "We'd follow him anywhere and gladly lay our lives down for him because he's done it for us and would do it again. He's doing it for you," Liam notes with a fond smile directed somewhere in the distance. "Me, Niall, Louis, and even Candy. We all have our reasons."
"He's the glue," he states confidently. "We're this small, albeit dysfunctional family because of him." A small, mischievous smirk crosses Liam's face as he stands, his hand patting my shoulder comfortingly. "I gotta say, though, it's about damn time he's brought a girl home."
Suddenly, the balcony door is ripped open, and the other boys stumble into the scene. Harry's eyes filter around until they lock onto me. "What are you two doing out here?" Harry's eyes flash between us as he approaches.
"Just havin' a smoke," Liam answers casually. "But look at you!" He slaps Harry's shoulder. "You look good, man. The next time we all dress up, as this might just be for your wedding," he snickers playfully.
To my humble surprise, instead of arguing with his brother or rolling his eyes, he blushes. "D-Don't look at me. Look at Mr. slutty waist over there," Harry points to a very unsuspecting Louis, who just stepped into view alongside Niall.
Louis looks scared. "How the hell did I get dragged into this?"
Harry smirks. "Candy? C'mon, we've all seen how you get when she's around you, man."
Louis's eyes go wide. "What? She's uh... very pretty."
Niall snickers. "Yeah, uh huh. Pretty."
Liam butts in. "Are we gonna skip the part where Harry just completely deflected my statement?"
"Yeah," I pitch in, playfully narrowing my eyes at Harry. "Why are you deflecting, H?"
Harry acts taken back and over-exaggerated his confused expression. He even looks around as if checking if Liam is referring to him and no one else. "What do you mean? I have no idea what you guys are going on about."
"Great," Liam rolls his eyes. "Now he's gaslighting us."
"Wait," Niall wheezes, pinching the bridge of his nose as his shoulders shook with laughter that he tried to bite down. "D-Did Harry just say Louis had a slutty waist?"
"I hate to butt in," simultaneously, their heads all turn, so their gaze is directed at me. No, I really do hate to butt in. It's actually really warming seeing them all together again.
I couldn't see it before, but Liam was right. They are family. Maybe they've warmed up around me enough to act like themselves, or maybe, they've always been like this, and I'm only now lucky to witness it. They're just an annoying quartet of brothers. It's nice to sit back and watch Harry interact with them because he seems so light and happy – like sunshine.
"We're gonna be late," I warn them. "There's probably gonna be traffic, so we should leave right now."
We all agree to leave, realizing we'd be behind if we waited any longer. So, we leave the public balcony, cut through the hotel, and exit to the back of the building through an exit side door. That's where I see the rental car, and Niall slides across the hood with ease. "Shotgun!"
Harry locks the vehicle before Niall can even try to open the door. "Not a chance," he chastises Niall and directs him to the back seat before opening the passenger side door for me.
It takes everything in me not to laugh in Niall's face.
I put my head down and get in the car, only allowing my body to shake lightly with an airy chuckle when I'm not facing him. Harry closes the door behind me before walking around the front of the car and getting in the driver's seat.
"This is," Niall speaks from the back seat, sounding utterly betrayed. "This is fucked up, Harry."
"At least you're not in the middle, dick," Louis snaps as he shifts rather uncomfortably in the middle seat. "Doesn't the youngest go in the middle? Harry, get back here- Niall, stop fucking elbowing me! We literally just sat down!"
"Sorry, my junk is itchy in these garments."
I cringe. Ew. I didn't need to know that.
Finally, Liam gets in the back seat and closes the door behind him, letting out an exasperated sigh before crossing his arm. Louis's hand shot up so his arm was at an acute angle, his fingers straight and pressed together like he was about to chop Niall in the throat. "Jesus, even your breathing is annoying!"
"I'm not even doing anything!"
I let the boys bicker in the back seat and turn to attention to Harry. Somehow he knows to turn his head, and when his eyes find mine, I ask him, "Can I turn music on, baby?"
He nods, not finding it difficult to blur out the arguing that's going on behind us. Subtly, he shifts the gear into drive, then rests his hand on my thigh. I lean forward and turn the radio on, flicking through the stations of static before I find something within range.
"-say we'll get famous and we'll die with our names in every paper, every news report is any consolation to the people that you love and all the people that you hate. But we'll love you all the same because you're beautiful-"
Without a thought, only acting on compulsion, I grab his hand that was resting on my thigh and bring it to my lips. When I peck his knuckles, his eyes flash between me and the road. I hold his hand, lacing our fingers together, and his smile is so soft and shy that I have to resist the urge to lean over the seat and kiss him.
He's tangled in the fabric of my soul. Looking at him now, I know what I feel is real. So, despite all the fear, the "what-ifs" floating around in my head, and the heartbreak I knew I could be facing, I wondered if this feeling was what made love worth it; maybe the pain I was surely going to drown in would be worth it because I this feeling could ever be replaced or replicated.
Harry makes me happy that I held on a little while longer. He makes me feel like all my pain meant something because it led me to him.
And a love like this is scary.
It's only when the building comes into view do I really start getting nervous again. Harry drives past it, though, going a few more streets down, where he pulls into a dark parking garage. The first few levels were congested, but the further down we went, the fewer cars we saw. Harry doesn't stop until he's on the bottom floor, where there are only two other cars on the same level as us. Harry shifts the gear to park before killing the engine. "S-So, how's this going to work?" I ask as Harry pops the truck open before getting out of the car. The boys were moving quickly, and so I followed to the best of my ability.
When I step out of the car, Liam jumps to answer my question. "Most of the people we're going to be around are like-" he pauses, looking between the boys and me. "Well, they're like us. So, they might know Harry's face, but they won't know yours. The passport Harry has was more so for appearances – a security net if authorities got involved. To protect your identity, introduce yourself as the name on the passport Louis got you."
"O-okay," I nod slowly. "So, uh, what's the plan?" I ask with a growing furrow as Harry takes out a black duffle bag from the back seat and tosses it to Niall, who quickly opens it.
"We're in a red zone," Harry explains, looking down at his watch. "It means no business can be handled here. So, no weapons allowed," he grumbles, not sounding very pleased at all.
I watch Niall and Louis put on black, protective body suits over their tuxedos. A mischievous look crosses Niall's features as he zips up the suit. "So why don't we shove a gun up-"
Everyone snaps. "Niall!"
His eyes go wide, and he holds his hands up in defense. "What? It was just a suggestion! Though, it would've made my job easier..."
Liam clasps his hands together, promptly changing the course of the conversation. "In prison, there are a few rules everyone has to follow, right? If you wanted to get away with something, how did you do it?" He asks the group as he tries to guide me toward an answer. When no one answers, Liam throws his arms up. "You guys act like you haven't been to prison before!"
Niall's stuck between a groan and a pout. "...I hate prison. My cellmate had beg bugs."
"I haven't been," Louis raises his hand innocently, and Harry rolls his eyes, tossing his gun in the trunk before closing it.
Liam throws his hands up. "Okay, you and Allie are saints who somehow managed to keep a clean record. I'm asking the convicted felons in the room – how do you get away with something in prison and not get caught?"
"You wait for lights out," Harry says decisively. "You find the blind spots and wait for lights out."
-
A/N
I tried something a little different from my usual writing style in this chapter, so I really hope y'all enjoyed it!!! This chapter and the next few will have a lot of metaphors foreshadowing future events, and some secrets will be revealed, so I hope everything makes sense 💀 PLEASE LMK YOUR THOUGHTS & FEEDBACK!
On a different note, sorry for the delayed update! College has been killing me, so thanks for being so patient!
Also, if you need inspo for Allie's dress, here you go
REMEMBER TO VOTE AND COMMENT, PLEASE ILY
SEE YOU IN CHAPTER 58...