It's been a long time, you guys. I've missed being here but since I've finished uni once and for all, I have all the time in the world to finally focus on this, cuz I know it takes me long to update usually. I hope you like this chapter - it's 14000 words, so VERY long. Make sure you have time and tissues on your hand - it's another emotional one! Let me know what you think x Please vote, it'll give me motivation to continue cuz I know i've been away for so long so I dont know if anyone is still here!
Airports won an award for being the most sentimental place created by man. It's the place where so many languages mix and collide, yet everyone connects in one - as the shared experience ties everyone together. Whether you're leaving home, discovering to find a new home, or moving on to a new chapter of your life, there are deep emotions hostage in an airport. Maybe that's why goodbyes at an airport were the hardest as it hits you that there is an aspect to your life, people or experiences that you're bidding farewell to. Yet this always comes from a place of love and affection. Hence it was a complex mix of love and vulnerability, knowing that life intervened, putting a physical pause on a relationship. The emotions ran deep, a raw blend of love and longing yet fear and sadness, acknowledging that you'll have to do without those people for some time. Yet it was ironic that the love would only foster and grow in their absence.
It was rounding the time to have two airport goodbyes for me, and I knew I'd be a wreck for both. Especially when I sought physical company the most lately, willing for the chatter to fill my ears deep to forget everything else. I had to brace myself so I wouldn't be a blubbering mess, like a child on their first day of school, when Mum and Dad were leaving. That's why I spent more and more time with them leading up to the day before they'd leave. Solemn nights as I lay thinking about how life was about to change turned into brighter days where I loitered in their room, clinging to their limited time at our home like it was the most sacred thing to me.
Harry let me be as he witnessed me stress about them leaving, and cry as I feared the mere prospect of life going back to normal. At the core, I was an over thinker and Harry had gotten used to my wild thoughts, and frequent meltdowns. The accident and the miscarriage only intensified it on a greater magnitude.
Harry and I dropped off Mum and Dad, with Anthony following closely behind us in his car. Harry, who usually isn't the one behind the wheel, insisted on driving and I could sense his eagerness to do so. Even on tour, he's often chauffeured around from place to place, so I understood his desire to drive. I sat in the passenger seat beside him, watching him navigate the roads while engaging in the conversation in the car. Although he appeared relaxed, I noticed a subtle tension in him, perhaps due to the lack of security around us. Despite this, he tried to remain calm and collected, but I could tell his attention occasionally drifted to ensure we weren't being watched or followed.
As we arrived at the airport, the sun had fully risen, signaling the start of a new day. The roads around us were serene, with only a few early risers on walks or runs and commuters on their way to work. The morning was devoid of mindless chatter, with people simply going about their daily routines. It was so raw and vehemently human and intrinsically beautiful, a sense of familiarity and unity lingering in the air alongside the fresh smells of bakeries and cafe's with their deliciously laden breakfasts tempting people as they got on.
As we drove past, and the radio was softly playing in the car and Dad, Mum and Harry were talking amongst one another, I couldn't help but watch everyone pass by around us. There were parents on the school run, conversing with other parents, their kids running like they were on a sugar rush bright and early in the morning. I saw elderly men stopping by the convenience store, a daily routine potentially to grab a newspaper that they'd spend their morning read, whilst they'd eat breakfast with their wives, troubling them with their daily wordsearched. With their energetic strides, joggers filled the streets, shorts on, Apple Watches timing them. Then there were the smartly dressed people, briefcases in hand as they rushed to their workplaces, trainers on to get them faster to avoid peak hour. It was a scene of bustling activity, a symphony of lives in motion, something London was known for.
Despite admiring the chaos that morning brought as people spilled on the roads for their own purposes, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of envy as I yearned for the ability to embrace productivity in the same away again. After the miscarriage, even the simplest tasks became arduous as I found myself disinterested in everything around me. The various turns and potential turns that my life took, like a plot twist in a fictional story haunted me. Casting over me a shadow of doubt and fear alike every step I strayed away from the confines of our equally daunting, yet confusingly safe haven, home.
In those moments, I deeply desired for at least the false sense of normalcy that I lived and hated. I would take that over this any day. The days filled with mundane routines and everyday challenges suddenly seemed appealing, for they represented a life untouched by the agonisingly, heart-rending grief I now carried like a rain cloud. Like Eeyore in Winnie the Pooh, I carried the burden of gray clouds wherever I went, inadvertently sucking and tainting the vibrant hues of life for both myself and those around me, whilst all they attempted was to include me. I wished I could return to that other version of myself, the one oblivious to the fragility of existence, unaware of the depths of despair that can shatter one's world. While the pain of losing Jessica had already left its mark, it felt like an additional blow, and I couldn't help but shoulder the blame. Oh, how I craved the weight of stress and responsibility, failing to recognise the blessings within those demanding experiences, no matter how overwhelming they seemed.
As Harry's hand tenderly caressed my leg, it served as a gentle interruption to the whirlwind of thoughts consuming my mind. His touch acted as a lifeline, pulling me back to the present moment, and I couldn't help but find solace in his presence. Dad's question, which had slipped past me unnoticed, was echoed by Harry, his voice carrying the weight of both their words.
My gaze would often wander towards Harry throughout the drive, captivated by the way he focused on the road. Even amidst the conversations and occasional teasing from Mum and Dad, I found myself stealing glances at him, cherishing his presence and the comfort it brought me. In the comfort of his presence, the mere knowledge that he was by my side was enough to quiet the turbulent storm within my mind. It was a source of frustration as the last few weeks made me aware of how much I relied on him. Yet, intertwined with that dependency was a profound sense of trust that surpassed my wildest expectations. I never thought I would find myself placing such unwavering faith in another person, but with Harry, it came naturally and effortlessly. And with that, came fear too.
Harry's lips silently formed the words, "You alright?" as he glanced at me, his angelic nature shining through his concern. I managed a nod in response, even though the word "alright" fell far short of capturing the tumultuous mix of emotions swirling within me. I secretly hoped that his question was merely prompted by my lingering gaze upon him and not a glimpse into the depths of my inner turmoil that he could effortlessly perceive.
His mouth curved into a small smile as I nodded in response to his silent question, but I knew he could see through me. Even if his original question came from being aware of my stare on him, a teasing tone to it, my answer prompted another question. "You sure?" he mouthed again, and this time, I shrugged my shoulders, unable and unwilling to detangle the venomous thoughts clouding my mind. At least it wasn't a complete lie, right? I felt better than I have lately and that mattered
But Harry, with his innate understanding, could discern the traces of melancholy in my eyes. He took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it on my thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze before refocusing on the road. I found myself staring at him, admiring the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and the way his hair was sleeked back into the bun I taught him to do months ago.
As we drove, light-hearted conversation filled the air as we reminisced some of the sweeter memories during their stay. But all good things must come to an end, and as we pulled into the airport parking lot, a sense of sadness washed over me. It was time to say goodbye, and I wasn't ready. We hugged Mum and Dad tightly, tears streaming down our faces as we said our goodbyes. It was always hard saying goodbye to family, but this time it felt especially difficult.
Mum's embrace enveloped me, a tight and warm hug that mirrored her own reluctance to depart. "Come back soon," I pleaded, my voice a mere whisper, fearful that if I spoke any louder, tears would stream down my face then and there. "Please," I added, longing for her reassurance, as she took a moment to gather her own emotions, silently grappling with the difficulty of parting.
"We will, my love," she promised, her tender hold grounding me. It was a shield of solace, a fortress of security, and I clung to it, even if it made me sound like a petulant child.
As we broke apart from the hug, I allowed my gaze to briefly wander towards Harry, instinctively drawn to his presence. Emotions washed over him as well, as his eyes remained fixed on me, their intensity speaking volumes. His eyes, filled with emotions mirroring my own, remained fixed on me, their intensity speaking volumes as he understood the weight of this moment. Our eyes met for a fleeting moment, exchanging an unspoken understanding that transcended words. I could discern the lump in his throat, the restless shifting of his gaze, and the longing in his stares, as he too fought to maintain composure. It seemed it was all any of us were doing.
"You're gonna be alright, Jasmine," Mum rested her hands on my forearms, emotion spilling from her. "Remember, the storm always ends. But just be gentle with yourself, okay? Promise me." The tears we struggled to contain betrayed our emotions, as a few drops escaped and rolled down my cheek. In my mother's eyes, a wellspring of emotion formed, teetering on the edge of her eyelids, ready to spill over. I mustered a nod regardless as I hugged her once again very briefly for I knew I wouldn't let go otherwise.
"I love you so much, Mum." I said to her and she shook her head, pecking my cheek with a kiss after telling me she did too.
"God, you guys have me choked up too." Harry laughed, as he watched me leave a kiss on Mum, right before we separated from each other. I let out the tiniest laugh, noticing Harry and Dad were also overcome with the same issue as Mum and I, yet their's was more so to do with watching us. I smiled at him, wiping the last tear from my face, before turning to Dad since Harry slipped into conversation with Mum.Dad held me tightly in his arms, his love and pride evident in his embrace. A profound silence enveloped us, as if our unspoken words held more weight than any spoken ones ever could. Tears shimmered in both our eyes. "My sweet Jasmine," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. "You've got this, okay? I am so proud of the woman you have become. You are stronger than you think and you've already come so far. Just hold on, you'll get through to the end soon."
He pulled away slightly and placed his hands on my shoulders, his eyes locking onto mine. "Remember that I am always here for you. You can always call me. Anytime," his voice resolute, he checked with me and I nodded. "And Harry," he called, turning to look at him. Harry's head snapped back to look at Dad, breaking free of the conversation with Mum momentarily. "I know I've said it already, and I also know you will, but take care of my girl, okay?" A touch of playfulness in his voice, blended precisely with care, his words conveyed a deeper meaning, hinting at the unspoken bond of trust between father and son-in-law. I shook my head, unable to suppress a fond smile, amused by Dad's need to remind Harry of something he already knew so well. But it was heartwarming to see Dad's protective nature shining through.
Glancing at me and locking gaze for a mere few moments, he smiled to himself. He then turned back to Dad. "I will. Always."
Dad then turned back to me. "I love you, darling. More than words can express." He placed a gentle kiss to my forehead before continuing, "take care of yourself, okay?" He looked at at Mum, repeating her words. That was certainly their biggest concern, and to be fair, it was mine too.
"I will, Dad," I replied, my voice cracking with emotion. "I love you too." I hugged him back, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over.
It was then time for them to leave, otherwise they'd be late for their flight. So Harry stepped back after handing Mum the suitcase he was hauling and looking after the whole time. He stood by my side, his arm draped around my shoulder. As we watched Mum and Dad slowly fade from sight, ascending the escalator, a mix of emotions swirled within me. I knew it would be a while before I saw them again, and the thought of being without them made my heart ache. But at the same time, I felt grateful for the time we had spent together, and for the memories we had created.
Harry pulled me close, offering his silent support as I wiped away the tears that still clung to my cheeks. I looked up at Harry momentarily, before I leaned into him, feeling his warmth radiate against my skin. His gaze on me came shortly after but I didn't make any movement, just needing to be silent.
"We'll see them again soon," he whispered, his voice soft and soothing.
"I know. Thank you, H," My voice barely audible, I forced a smile, breathing in a huge deep breath to recollect myself. He peeled me away from him to get a better look at him, and I could barely cover up the way my eyes were blotched red, misty with tears.
He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Always, Jasmine," he replied, his voice full of love and sincerity. "Come on, let's get out of here." He said. "We can grab a coffee or something before we head back, yeah?
I nodded, allowing Harry to lead us to the coffee shop. He sat me down at a table and told Anthony to stay seated too, till he came back with both of our coffees. When he did, he nodded at Anthony, who then stood up, still staying close-by, but Harry sat opposite me instead. "You okay?" He asked me, genuine concern laced through his voice. Perhaps it was prompted by the vulnerability of the moment, the sight of tears streaming down my face, or the way I sat in a guarded stance, clutching the sleeve of my cardigan tightly in my fist as I shielded my face from view.
Despite my best efforts, it was a challenge to hold myself together in that moment. Harry placed my coffee in front of me and handed me some extra sugar packets and a stirring stick, knowing I liked my coffee on the sweeter side. I thanked him and quickly tore open a packet, while Harry took off the lid of my cup as he always did, since I was afraid of spilling. As he helped me, I anxiously glanced around the busy airport, feeling restless and uncomfortable. The overwhelming urge to escape engulfed me, and it felt like everyone was staring at us, making the situation even more intense.
Trying to ignore those feelings, I looked back at Harry, hoping that I was just imagining things. "You know," I started, catching his attention while he took a sip, "I'm not just upset because they're leaving. I'm not a little kid," I added, struggling to put my feelings into words. "I can't explain it exactly... It's just scary because their departure means things are slowly going back to normal, and I don't know if I'm ready," I admitted, keeping my voice steady and doing my best to stay composed.
"And when you go back on tour, I don't know what will happen to me, honestly," I continued, my voice tinged with apprehension. "I know I have to move on and get back to how things used to be, at least to some extent, and believe me, I want that too. But I'm really scared, and it feels incredibly overwhelming."
Harry listened intently as we both sipped our slightly cooled-down coffees. I took a moment to gather my thoughts before continuing.
"It's been comforting to have people around me, especially Mum," I explained, my voice soft. "She's been through a similar experience, and it's reassuring to know that she understands. It's not that you don't get me or that others haven't been supportive," I hurriedly clarified. "It's just... she's my mum, you know? There's a different kind of connection there, especially since she's physically experienced a similar loss."
I watched as Harry's expression softened, his eyes filled with empathy. He reached across the table and gently placed his hand on mine. "I understand, Jasmine," he said softly. "It's been so great to have our families and friends around us to help during this and it's daunting now - even thinking about being with them. I'll be honest with you - I can't bring myself to go back home right now. So, I totally get it. But babe, do you remember what I told you back when you moved to London and things were tough between us? I said, no matter where I am, whether it's half way across the world, you're always my priority. I'll always be here for you, J." He reminded me, promising me again, though he didn't need to. I was reminded of that moment, the innocence we both had merely a year ago.
I nodded, grateful for his reassurance. However, as the weight of our conversation settled, guilt washed over me like a tidal wave. Letting out a sigh, my eyes darted around the bustling airport before I mustered the courage to respond.
"Can I borrow your sunglasses?" I asked, fully aware of how odd it would look for me to wear sunglasses inside the airport cafe while Harry sat without them. He nodded understandingly, removing his sunglasses from his head and passing them to me. I put them on, momentarily shielding my eyes from the world, seeking a brief respite.
"It's just, Harry," I began, my voice filled with a mix of emotions, "you're going through the same pain. We've both experienced this loss - the loss of our child. I can't help but feel guilty for burdening you with my own struggles. Sometimes, it feels like I'll never be okay again and that makes me feel like I'm overreacting. No matter how hard I try, it drains every ounce of energy from me."
I paused, my voice barely above a whisper, as if I were sharing my deepest secrets. My gaze met Harry's, and I could see the reflection of my own pain mirrored in his eyes.
"And then, Harry," I continued, my voice wavering, "I want to be there for you. It's all I've been thinking about. It breaks my heart knowing that you're going through this too, and yet here I am, leaning on you for support. I feel like I'm being selfish."
As I ranted, my voice remained low, almost lost in the cacophony of the bustling cafe. I doubted that Anthony who was right near us could even hear our conversation over the noise. But the weight of my words hung heavily in the air between us.
Harry's eyes slightly shifted from me for a brief second, as though he was now trying to compose himself. He sat forward in his chair so he could get closer to me. "Jasmine," he said, his voice filled with love and understanding, "you're not selfish for leaning on me. We're both in this together. I lean on you and you on me. Our shared loss only brings us closer, okay? Don't, for a second, think that you're being selfish or you're over-reacting. The pain you're feeling, the physical loss and the mix of grief for our child and the lingering grief for Jessica... I understand you, Jasmine."
I understand you... God, that sentence was the most beautiful thing I've heard. Yet, I still didn't agree with him. "Harry, when have I ever given any support to you?" I almost scoffed. I quickly realised it wasn't too late, so I added on, "I'll be better for you, okay?"
"You already have - just knowing that you're there, listening, and sharing our pain is a form of support. And I can sit here and list everything else out to you, or I can tell you to let go of your fears slowly and just have faith that things will get better, even if it seems like it won't," He provided me with hope once again. "Now, tell me why you seem on edge since we've sat here. You keep looking around."
"They're all looking, Harry," I said to him, paranoid. "I can feel everyone staring at me. At us. At you." I didn't know exactly what made sense in that moment, but I couldn't shake that feeling off no matter how hard I tried to.
Harry looked around discretely, but frowned. "Nobody is, J. They're mostly all half-asleep and-"
"They are, Harry. They are," I insisted.
Silent for a few seconds and then he moved back, sitting up straight with a sigh leaving his lips as he could noticed the distress in my voice and eyes, even if the sunglasses shielded me. "Okay, how about this? We can either swap places right now, or find a quieter spot," he suggested, his concern evident. "Or, if you prefer, we can leave the airport altogether and go home. What do you think?" His voice was soft, non-judgemental and I was forever grateful.
"Let's go home. Please." I tugged at his sleeve, standing up already. Harry's soft smile, brimming with sympathy, assured me that he was by my side. In a gesture of support, he pulled me close, enveloping me in his embrace, as we walked out of the cafe with our coffees in hand.
Together, we made our way through the bustling airport, the morning breeze offering a sense of liberation. Anthony, following closely behind, understood our unspoken decision and joined us on our journey. With every step, the weight of the crowded space and prying eyes seemed to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of freedom.
In the car, as Harry settled into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition, he glanced at me, his eyes filled with concern. "You left some clothes at the penthouse last time, right? We could head there for a few days. How does that sound?"
A glimmer of hope flickered within me at the suggestion. The thought of escaping to a familiar place, away from the emptiness that awaited us at home, felt like a balm to my weary soul. "Yeah," I replied, a smile spreading across my face. "That sounds perfect. Thank you, Harry."
A surge of gratitude welled up within me, mixed with a tinge of remorse. I felt a pang of guilt for hastily suggesting to leave the airport without considering his own reservations about returning home. I tightened my grip on his hand, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on each of his knuckles, expressing my affection and appreciation.
As Harry maneuvered the car out of the parking spot, he turned to me, surprise mingling with affection in his gaze. "God, I love you, H," I whispered, my voice filled with sincerity.
It was the car honking behind us - Anthony, probably confused at why we'd been driving so slow. Harry's attention snapped back to the road, realising he had been lost in our own haze for a minute so he picked up the pace, maneuvering the car down the ramp and onto the road.
With a gentle twist of his hand, Harry shifted our intertwined hands, allowing his thumb to graze over the back of my hand in a comforting motion. It felt grounding, a subtle reminder of our connection. He leaned in and placed a quick kiss on my hand before returning his focus to the road, deftly navigating the car through a curve.
A smile played on Harry's lips as he glanced at me, his eyes shimmering with adoration. "You drive me crazy, you know that, right?" he remarked, his voice filled with a mixture of affection and playful exasperation.
"And you mean the world to me, you know that, right?" Tilting my head, I smirked softly, suddenly turning the declarations of love into a very cheesy competition between us. Suddenly we were both fighting to have the better statement.
"I love you with my entire being." He fought back unabashedly.
"I'll never get enough of you." Mine came quick too.
"You own me." He smiled a winning smile when he realised it took me a while to think up something better.
"I mean, we're literally the same person, I think." I'd tried and he just shook his head, telling me that it was a few seconds too late. And with that, the two of us burst out laughing at the silliness of the moment.
But in the midst of that exchange, it occurred to me the depth of Harry's gratitude for the words I had spoken, for the reassurance and love I had freely given. It was ironic that despite being so famous and millions of people adored him, he too felt insecure at times. He too craved love.
I met his pensive gaze momentarily, understanding the thoughts swirling in his mind. Our connection went beyond fame and adoration. We were two individuals bound by a shared journey, navigating the ups and downs of life together. The random outbursts of love held a special place in both our hearts, but it must be a peculiar feeling to know that someone cared about you beyond what you meant to the world.
He smiled softly, as he took hold of my hand and as he drove, his eyes on the road, he peppered my hand with kisses mindlessly.
I turned the radio on with my other hand, but it was very low, only serving as background noise and not much else. Neither of us really paid much attention to it, as I used my free hand to text Mum.
It was a few moments into the silence, when Mum had disappeared from the chat for a while that I randomly blurted out, "I'm sorry I dragged you out of there, by the way. I know you said you didn't really want to return home either," I felt guilty about my impulsive decision as I was reminded of his earlier statement. "That's what I mean when I say I barely support you and I'm selfish."
Harry shook his head, his eyes filled with compassion yet his brows scrunched in confusion. "Why are you apologizing for simply expressing how you feel, Jasmine?" he reassured me. "We found another solution together, didn't we? There are always multiple ways to address a situation, and we've found our middle ground. And as corny as it sounds, as long as I'm with you, I'm okay."
"I'm sorry," I repeated, but before he could respond, I quickly changed the subject. "I miss you driving me around," I admitted, gazing up at him as his fingers tapped the steering wheel, waiting for an opportunity to change lanes with careful attention.
"Yeah?" he asked, glancing at me, then at my phone, and finally back at the road.
"Yeah, there's something about men driving-"
"Men?" he interrupted, giving me a playful look of mock disappointment.
"You. I mean, you," I clarified, with a roll of my eyes.
"Hmm, I'll let you off this one time," he replied, chuckling softly. He continued to hold my hand, even as he shifted gears, and I found it utterly endearing.
As we continued, our drive carried a profound understanding. We were partners in love and life, supporting each other through the highs and lows. With each passing mile, I knew that our love had the power to heal, uplift, and strengthen us. The turbulence of our emotions, the uncertainties we faced—they were all part of the intricate dance of our relationship. We drove on, our hands tightly intertwined, knowing that together we could navigate any challenge that lay ahead.
****
At the penthouse, I was sat taking in some fresh air in the balcony, almost falling asleep, when Harry sauntered in, making himself known. "We don't have any toiletries. Like at all," he took a seat opposite me. "No loo roll, no toothbrushes or toothpaste. You've got your hair conditioner but I doubt that's of much use without any shampoo. We also don't have any food so I'm sending Luis out for a quick run to the shops."
Luis was mine and Harry's new personal assistant and house-keeper, since Harry hired him a few days prior to Mum and Dad leaving. He'd told me to send him a list of the things I needed, to which I just nodded my head, but my eyes shut signified how I was far too relaxed to do anything else. I breathed in the fresh air, feeling the weariness settle in, and all I wanted was to surrender to sleep.
"You feeling any better, babe?" He'd asked me, his hand on my knee to grab my attention, right before he sat down on the other chair beside me.
"Yeah, just tired." I sighed, my head turning to the side, just as a yawn left my lips.
"We've had an early morning, that's why," his voice soft, he yawned almost immediately after I did. "Let's go inside, come on." He took hold of my hand so that I could get up. I followed him inside, glad that he'd opened up all the windows in the place. It was so stuffy and the fresh air was definitely needed.
"Let's watch something?" I asked him, as the two of us were getting in bed. Harry pulled back the duvet that he'd clearly just changed. How he'd done that in a matter of a while was beyond me but I wasn't one to complain. I just slipped myself right in, scooting over so that I could be right beside Harry.
He hummed, nodding his head as he typed away a message to Luis, supposedly. "Is this all we need?" He'd shown me the text on his phone right before he sent it.
"Yeah, you know it all, look at you. Such a stalker," I retorted, handing his phone back once I'd skimmed past it. I picked up the remote then, putting Netflix on and finding the movie we'd started a while back but never got round to finishing it.
Only after he sent the text, he turned his attention to me and put his phone down on the table. "Not a stalker - your husband, babe." He laughed. "We live in the same house, I did most of the grocery shops and when you need a particular item, you will literally send me out to get the right one very angrily, might I add. So yeah, I'd say I have reason to know exactly all the stuff you need."
I nodded, the corners of my mouth lifting in amusement. "Oh yeah," I replied, a soft laugh joining in with Harry's, the sound breathing life into the room again, more memories ready to be made here.
Adding on another message to him quickly, he then properly put his phone away and we nestled beneath the blanket, creating our own little cocoon of comfort. Drawing me closer, his presence enveloped me in a sense of security and belonging. "Oh yeah? You forgot that I'm your husband?" he playfully feigned offense, leaning his head over me.
I shook my head, a fond smile gracing my lips. "No, just that it's more logical." The warmth of his breath against my skin sent a shiver of delight down my spine.
"I'll let you off this one time." He narrowed his eyes, as he scrutinised me, all in jokes. We shared a moment of lighthearted banter, our connection deepening with every teasing exchange.
The movie served as a soothing lullaby, lulling us into a deep slumber. It was merely half an hour into the film that exhaustion took over, and we succumbed to the depths of the sleep, partially an escape for the both of us, and also from the weariness of the day. And the thick, floor-sweeping curtains that helped to block out daylight had a huge hand in making it feel like night.
I shifted in bed at one point to face Harry, and caught a glimpse of his peaceful countenance, accompanied by the gentle melody of his snores.
The sight was mesmerising, a moment of tranquility as I observed his relaxed features. His eyelashes rested delicately, his brows no longer burdened by the weight of stress. The rise and fall of his chest, synchronized with his slow, rhythmic breathing, painted a picture of serenity. I yearned for him to experience the same level of peace and tranquility while awake. With a smile playing on my lips, I let my hand graze the stubble near his chin, finding solace in the gentle touch, before drifting back into slumber.
We awoke much later in the day, the room bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun, a warmer yet tired shine. Harry was already up, his phone in his hand as he was rather frustrated for whatever reason he conjured up. As we lay in bed, his hand caressed my hair and I smiled softly to myself, but took hold of his hand and let it rest between us. The TV, having automatically switched off, now remained silent in the background.
"You okay, love?" Harry asked, realising that I'd woken up too.
I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. I sighed softly, knowing he'd see right through me. It was daunting how he managed to do that and as much as I knew he meant no harm, it always scared me because my whole life, I'd been so used to being so closed off from everyone. I couldn't ever build my walls back up after him. Even when I'd shut everyone out, it was only temporary until he pushed his way back in and they were down within a minute. And after the morning we'd had, my walls were down. It seemed lately, they were always down with him - I was exposed to him and there was something so comforting in it, despite being filled with anxiety.
"I miss them." I admitted to him, searching his eyes for some connection deeply.
He felt a similar pain, I knew as he sighed, "I know, babe."
"You're gonna go back on tour literally at the end of the week," but as quick as the statement slipped my lips without a thought, a thick, heavy silence was no slower in settling between us. He didn't have any comforting words to offer and I knew that I shouldn't have reminded him of how soon his tour was approaching us again. His eyes shut, as it pained him to even think of about going back, especially when he was already drifting away from the satisfaction he was used to feeling whilst in the band.
Regretful, I immediately turned my whole body to him, my hand reaching forth to trace the bone of his brow to soften the curve of frustration clear on his face. "Wait, sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"No, shh." His eyes blinked back open as he lifted his head from the pillow. My hand fell down to his that was on the bed and he held mine again so he could play with my fingers. Within a second that sadness that settled within us both was replaced by this need to be strong, to be okay, to be there for the other. "Don't apologise for just being open. I'm here to listen to you and if you're scared or anxious or hurt, I'm here for you."
Now I was frowning deeply. I bent down to him, pain written all over my face. "Then who's here for you?" My voice came as a whisper and his eyes locked with mine immediately. In his renewed silence, his eyes glowed, yet not in the usual way of dancing in the light. This time, it was glinting from the tears that sat ashore, the ones he was trying so hard to hold back. "Talk to me, babe?"
He didn't though, shutting me off completely, as he reached for the remote instead and turned the TV back on. A sight too hard for me to swallow, I knew it was me who was culpable for this crime. To strip him of his joy and watch him unfurl into a miserly state when all he deserved in this world was the very best of everything good. He'd even began adopting my habits of shutting people out. I truly was doing more harm than good in his life.
****
The day before he left though, there wasn't anything he could hide - an open book, despite attempting to cover it all up from me.
It started with anger that recoiled through him like poison. It was a sight I'd never seen, since he was usually extremely calm. And whilst his anger wasn't directed at me and I'd known it, I had to be the bearing brunt of it. And the only time I'd really remembered Harry to get that angry was when we'd only just gotten married and I'd shut him out. That frustration he felt then, was similar to the anger he let out in the days leading up to tour. I knew it wasn't really anger he felt, but it was his way of dealing with the tide of emotions. Ultimately, at the core, he's a man and that's how they all eventually showed their emotions - anger.
In his defence, nothing truly was working smoothly that day, and he'd had a lot on his plate already, since he spent the whole morning on his phone, talking to his head of security, to Simon, to so many people to get things in order for when he was away. He was afraid, it was so clear to me, but to everyone else, all they'd see was the fury and the passive aggression.
And sure, I was confused initially too. Especially when I'd woken up and Harry wasn't in bed.
I peeled the blanket off of me, and due to it being pretty much summer, I woke up quite sweaty. My hair needed a wash as it was greasy, but I just put on a claw clip, before getting out bed so that I could wander off to find Harry. Sounds from the toilet dragged my feet there as I went to see whether Harry was there, particularly since the door was wide open.
And sure enough, there he was, as he shaved the stubble on his chin, dressed only in joggers. His phone was resting on the counter top in front of him as he kept glancing down every once in a while to focus on what was being said on the other end. I understood the voice to be Jeffery and it was clear the conversation happening was quite a serious one.
And it was made aware to me, when I sauntered over to him that instead of reciprocating the smile that I'd sent his way, he just looked at me intently.
"You okay, Harry?" I'd mouthed over to him, making sure to make no noise, but he shut his eyes with a slight shake of his head to let me know to not disturb him. I frowned, but stayed silent. His mood confused me, but I just sat next to the sink, where the counter was completely empty. My purpose wasn't to eaves-drop but I leaned back on my hand, watching him with the attention of a hawk. It only took a few seconds for me to quickly realise that it wasn't a conversation, but just Jeff speaking at Harry.
"Jeffery, I'm trying so hard to stay calm right now. But by God, am I fuming. So I swear, you fight me on this anymore, I will hang up because I'm not entertaining this conversation any longer. For your sake and mine, just quit trying. So here's it again cuz I've stood and listened to everything you've said without interrupting. I hired Anthony and you can't tell me what to do regarding him. There's no way I'm bringing him with me on tour. We have three live-in security men and the fact that I still was asking for another - there's no way I'm compromising here. Not whilst I'm miles away from home."
Jeffery began to say something in response, clearly agitated, but Harry wasn't having it. Anger surfaced to the forefront and he stopped shaving for a minute, his hands resting on the counter top. I jumped down from the counter, aware that he was growing angry by the minute. My hand inched itself towards his arm, but he shrugged it off, merely signalling to get out of his way. He moved back, needing to be distant from me physically too. That's when it was apparent to me exactly how livid he was, even if he wasn't showing it to me. No wonder he couldn't meet my eyes. I sat back on the counter, not wanting to bother him more, but also not wanting to leave him there alone.
Not when he was so angry for me. He clearly was fighting as hard as possible to keep Anthony here with me, aware that I needed Anthony. I relied on him so much, and he knew it even if he preferred to ignore that.
Jeff continued to plead with Harry, but Harry remained resolute, his head shaking back and forth in defiance. He was seething with anger and struggling to regain his composure. His eyes briefly met mine but quickly glanced past me. But just as I thought he had dismissed me, his gaze returned to lock with mine and he took a deep breath in. Whilst he tried to calm himself down, I was unsure whether I should do something to be there for him. But before I could even contemplate whether to act on my feelings, he turned away and focused on the task at hand, picking the razor back up and glancing at himself in the mirror. But it was clear his mind was elsewhere as he realised he was already finished.
Sighing, he washed away the razor and rinsed away any stray remnants of hair on his chin or jaw that made no effort to leave. Just as he reached beside me for the aftershave, his hand brushed past my leg and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me. But before I could even process the sensation, I heard a sharp sound and felt a sudden pain. Looking at Harry, who was letting out a string of curses to himself, I noticed he was looking down at my leg, stressed out. I followed his glance, only then seeing a thin red line where the razor had slipped his hand and accidentally scratched me.
But the pain barely registered me, until I realised it was bleeding. Though my attention was on Harry who was clearly frustrated with himself, I was getting up to get myself a tissue, when he held me down with a touch of his hand on my knee. "Sit down." He'd said, his voice low as he demanded I make no movement. I couldn't tell if it was frustration or care, but he quickly turned his back to me. Reluctantly, I sat back down, watching his quick and agitated moves.
His eyes searched the bathroom for tissues, as the loo roll and tissue box had to be replaced since they were both finished. And just then, he turned back to me, his hand opening the drawer right beside my other leg, where we had some first aid stuff. He took out a disinfectant wipe, ripping open the packet before he tended to my leg.
The sting of the disinfectant was only strong the first second it touched me, and the involuntary hiss that left my lips earned Harry's focus. That's not how I wanted his attention. I watched as he cleaned away the cut, the disinfected barely stinging after, as my mind was preoccupied with Harry. His brows were etched in permanent frustration since I'd seen him that morning and he made no effort to glance back up at me, clearly still annoyed. As Jeff's voice droned on in the background, Harry was fixated on tending to my cut, a gentle touch contrary to the anger that was growing every second Jeff kept hammering on. Harry attempted to stay silent but the longer Jeff's voice droned on, the more Harry's frustration grew and his silence was short-lived, as his anger boiled over into a sudden outburst.
"Enough, Jeff! Will you shut up?" The sudden outburst startled me, shaking my body awake. I winced as the sting of the cut intensified. I tried to move his hand, but he held on tightly, lost in his own anger, as he continued to curse and swear through the phone, fury only rising. But the sharp pain was beginning to be too much and I tried to suppress a wince and attempted to move his hand. After he felt that I was pushing his hand away, he turned his attention to me. Catching my pained expression, his anger dissipated for a mere second, replaced with a look of concern. But he then looked back at the phone.
Without a word, he hung up the phone and threw it across the bathroom floor in anger. I flinched at the sudden movement, but Harry didn't seem to notice, his eyes fixed on the phone as it clattered against the tiles. He took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly as he turned to face me.
I was shocked as I'd never seen Harry this furious before. His eyes were cold until he looked back at me again and only then, his shoulders dropping. "It's bleeding again." He muttered to himself as he resumed cleaning away the blood. And just as he was done, he put a small circle plaster over it, and then brushed his finger over it briefly.
"Harry?" I called.
He shook his head, trying to tell me to get up from the counter. "Leave me, Jasmine." He clenched his jaw, still not making any eye contact with me. "Where's Anthony?" He was ready to dismiss everything just like that, as though nothing happened and it confused me deeply, but I shook it off too, hoping that it was just the frustration of the conversation with Jeff that led to his behaviour like that for a while - that he'd be fine afterwards. He walked around me and left me there with a breeze.
But throughout the rest of the day, I continued to face similar anger and dismissal from Harry. It was frustrating and annoying, especially since I knew he was spending hours in the living room with his security team, barely leaving the room. Whenever I approached him, he would tell me to leave him alone. I couldn't fathom why he was being so cold and distant towards me. I knew he was stressed and upset, but that was no reason to take it out on me.
So after Anthony left the room, I immediately went to find him. "Anthony?" I called out, my crutch making a sound on the floor.
He turned to face me, but his usual friendly smile was absent. "You okay, Jasmine?" he asked.
"You were with Harry just now, right?" I asked, ignoring his question. "What's going on? What did he talk to you about?"
"Just some procedures and house-keeping stuff - he was just going through safety related things," he said, nonchalantly. I realised that he was unaware that my question was coming from the frustration of being left alone the whole day. All I wanted was to be with Harry, but he was spending the whole day as far from me as possible.
I nodded before leaving Anthony and heading towards the living room. I needed to talk to Harry. The way he had been ignoring me since morning, pushing me out of his way, and treating me like I wasn't around really did hurt.
I hesitated at the doorway, taking a deep breath before stepping into the living room. Harry was there, sitting on the edge of the sofa, completely engrossed in a phone call. His laptop was open on the coffee table, and he had his glasses on. That meant he truly was in work mode. He didn't even look up when the door clicked or even as I walked in, yet Mark, Ricardo and Luis, the other two security men and our house-keeper who sat opposite to Harry did. My heart sank at the sight, knowing how stressed he was, but more so at his lack of acknowledgement. I couldn't help but feel hurt and frustrated. I didn't want to interrupt his call and be petty.
But as I waited for him to finish, I wondered if it was even worth it, if I would just be an added annoyance to him on top of everything else he was dealing with before leaving for tour. But I couldn't help but feel like I deserved his attention, especially on the last day we had together.
Anxious, I stood back up, ready to walk out of the room because I had no idea whether he'd appreciate it - I didn't want to be an extra worry to his already existing ones. Was I being clingy?
Surely it wasn't me being clingy, though. Was it so bad if I wanted to be with him before he left? Was it so bad for me to ask him to not treat me with such nonchalance? Was it so bad to express that I felt hurt at his behaviour throughout the day?
My feet froze though, unable to take a step away from the sofa as I was conflicted. I turned back to face him, and my conflict was what finally earned Harry's attention, though I didn't intend it to. His eyes shut, a sigh leaving him. He was annoyed. I was being clingy and I hated it. I wanted to run out of the room because I felt terrible but in that moment, I had nothing I could lose anymore.
"Can I talk to you?" I mouthed, not knowing how important the call was for Harry, but he was clearly looking at me, as if to say to spit it out. No reply, he just held up a finger, and looked back at his laptop. Dejected, my shoulders visibly slumped, no matter how I tried to hide it. How was he behaving like that when the last few weeks, he was concerned every single second, and especially when I came to talk to him about anything?
It was a few minutes later, yet it felt like an eternity, that he hung up the call. His eyes flashed over to me, finally, and he looked at me expectantly.
"Are you okay?" He asked me right off the bat, but I could tell he would rather me not be there at all.
"Yeah, I-"
"Then what is so important?" His voice was cold, especially as he came to the conclusion that since I wasn't there to talk about something that was wrong with me, then there was nothing that demanded his time, and as much as I should be flattered by his concern, it was so frustrating.
"It's evening soon, and you've been in here the whole day, Harry. You haven't been with me since morning and I - you go on tour tomorrow. I just wanted to spend some time with you." My voice was unsure, as I searched his reaction even whilst I spoke, too afraid that it would elicit a reaction I would hate to see.
"Okay." He pursed his lips together, shutting his eyes briefly, before looking back at me, annoyed. "We've been over this already. I have a lot to do before I leave, and not enough time. I don't have time for this right now. I have a lot that needs my attention right now."
We've been over it already? When? I thought to myself. All I remember was him telling me to stop getting in his way. But I shoved that anger aside, wanting to deal with it calmly.
"And so do I, Harry." I said boldly, covering up the hurt I felt, but I watched as his eyes averted back to the laptop screen. Now I felt embarrassed, especially when Luis was a third-party to it all. "Can't you spare some time for me? For us? I'm not asking for the whole day, at this point - it's too late for that."
Harry shook his head, his eyes still fixed on his laptop screen. "I can't right now, Jasmine. Can we do this later?"
I opened my mouth to protest, and he looked back at me, cutting me off. "I really need to focus on this right now. I need you to understand, Jasmine. Why are you -"
"Why am I, what, Harry?" I scoffed. "Do you not care that you'll be gone tomorrow for ages and even though we've done this a thousand times before, it never stops being hard and this time it's a million times worse than usual and I have no idea how I'm going to cope? You want to push me away, and ignore me instead? You want to act like I don't exist? You want to waste our last day together for almost two months like this? Seriously, Harry?"
Harry's face hardened, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips. He stood up and shut his laptop. "You think I've been ignoring you and pushing you away on purpose?" He retorted, his face disgusted at the words. "I've had a million things on my mind today, Jasmine - so much to sort out and it's all for you, for crying out loud. It's all for you!" He seethed. "I'm just trying to get stuff done before I leave and you're making it worse by nagging me to talk or 'spend time'. Is it bad that all I want is to make sure everything's in place for you tomorrow?" He scowled.
I felt a twinge of guilt brewing within me at his words, but I still couldn't help feeling frustrated. "I'm nagging you, am I?" I laughed, an incredulous laugh. "Thanks, Harry." A grimace on my lips, I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm sorry if it's so wrong that I wanted to be with my husband. If I needed you today. You know it's not cool or hot - you getting angry at everyone. You've yelled at Luis, at Anthony. And at me, Harry." I know the last sentence was a real blow, especially when I was aware he was only equally worried. But I felt the need to go on the offence, which was strangely unlike me.
"Oh, for God's sake, Jasmine. Why can't you understand, I've got a lot on my plate." He exclaimed quite loudly that I flinched back. At that, he merely glanced at the floor, frustrated.
I continued instead. "I understand that you're busy, Harry. But I just care about you, and I want to help. You've been stressed all day and wasted our last day together. And all I want is to spend some time with you before you go. And if I'm clingy because of that, I won't apologise. Not when I've been so patient the whole day." I stated, my eyes now glaring into his as he looked back up at me.
"But Jasmine-" He started but shut his mouth, looking over at Luis, Mark and Ricardo. "Get out?" He stared intensely at the two poor men, watching them scurry.
"Yes, Harry. Tell me again! You're busy!" I shouted, as soon as they left. I was beyond livid at that point, at the excuse he kept making. It was an excuse and I wasn't going to be okay with it.
"All I'm trying to do is keep things in check for you, so don't twist it into something it isn't." He was trying so hard to not completely pop off.
"What do you mean, something it isn't?!" I couldn't understand him. "You aren't spending time with me. You chose to be cooped up in here. Every time you walked past me in the dining room or around the house, you completely ignored me - you didn't give me a single second. Do you know how much it hurts?"
The tension between us was palpable, and I could see that Harry was struggling to keep his temper in check. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softening. "I didn't mean to shut you out. It's just that...everything's been so overwhelming lately. I don't know how to deal with it all."
I ran a hand through my hair, forcing myself to come down from the high. "Harry, please. I'm only saying this because I care about you. I'm going to miss you when you're gone and with everything in our life lately, it's already hard - don't make it harder than it is."
Harry hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine.
And then he approached me, rounding the coffee table, but I involuntarily took a step back. He let out a disappointed sigh, of course frustrated with himself over our screaming match. "I always do, regardless of what's happening in our life. And I know you care, Jasmine. And I appreciate it. But I need to get everything in place. I have so much technical work to make sure you're safe, that's all. And I can't have you hovering over me all the time." His voice raised slightly towards the end, which irked me the slightest, because it meant he was trying to calm me down, despite maintaining the opinion he had since the start.
"I also appreciate that, Harry. But I'm not hovering," I insisted, my voice matching his. "I'm just trying to be there for you. And you being busy with it all doesn't give you an excuse to treat me like I don't matter."
"Well, I don't need you to be there all the damn time," he snapped, almost suddenly. "I need some space to finish it all up, okay? Can't you just give me that?" He threw his arms in anger, which frightened me more than I could admit.
But the way he stepped back and sighed, distancing himself from me, was enough for my anger to dissipate and for all the hurt I felt throughout the day to come to the forefront of my mind. Tears welled up in my eyes as I took a step back, feeling hurt and rejected. "Fine," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll leave you alone. I'm sorry." My hand reached for the door, as I walked back out of the room, shutting the door behind myself.
As I walked down the hallway, I couldn't help but feel foolish. How could I have let my emotions get the best of me like that? I knew Harry had his own problems and responsibilities, and I shouldn't have expected him to drop everything to cater to me.
I bumped into Luis and the other two men on the way upstairs to the bedroom and I felt embarrassed. He was so new and he hadn't needed to witness that. I apologised to him, knowing he deserved it, having been put in such an awkward and uncomfortable position, especially when Harry shouted at them to leave. And I'd seen the way he was with Anthony too, his temper getting the best of him so I knew Luis must have faced it too.
Just as I climbed up a few stairs, I heard hurried footsteps across the hall, and of course, it was Harry coming after me to talk. Seriously? I couldn't believe it. After I had tried to talk to him earlier and he brushed me off, now he wanted to talk? I made eye contact with him, feeling a mix of annoyance and frustration, but I continued climbing up the stairs without a word.
Harry's call after me only added fuel to my annoyance. "Jasmine. Wait," he called out, running after me. As he caught up, he attempted to test the waters by reaching out to hold my arm to stop me from rushing. "Jasmine?" he said, his tone pleading. But I was in no mood for it. I shook his hand off, angry.
"Don't do that. I thought you had work to do," I snapped, my irritation palpable. "Get on with it. I'll be out of your hair." As he continued to inch closer to me on the stairs, I turned around, my frustration building. "Harry, stop it," I warned, struggling to hold back the tears and the anger.
"Just give me a minute," he pleaded, his voice softening.
"Like you did downstairs?" I asked sarcastically, walking backwards up the stairs to put distance between us.
"Jasmine, that was rubbish of me. Please, just-" he said, taking the final two steps up in one and holding my hand this time, he - with his long legs - walked ahead of me. It felt like an eternity before he spoke again. "Please?" He sighed. I responded merely by following him up the stairs as he led us instead. I wasn't bitter - I wanted us to be fine.
"Talk to me, Jaz. I know you have a lot to say," he said, his voice softening. His finger reached up to my lip, tapping it, urging me to relax and stop clenching my teeth. "But don't cry, please."
"I'm not crying." I frowned.
"I know you're holding it back, and I'm being selfish but please don't cry. Yell at me if you need to; I deserve it anyway," he was pleading.
"I don't want to yell," I admitted. "I am angry though."
"You should be. I was horrible to you and I'm so sorry, Jasmine. Talk to me, I'm listening now." Harry's voice was remorseful as he spoke, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes. Despite the anger still simmering within me, I couldn't help but be touched by his words. All I had wanted was a simple apology in that moment, nothing more. Well, that but also for him to understand what he'd done as he not only treated me like I wasn't important but also made me feel like a fool, my emotions tossed aside as insignificant. But now, as Harry sat next to me and offered his apology, a weight was lifted off my chest. It was as if I had been holding my breath all day, waiting for this moment. Finally, I could exhale and speak my mind.
Yet all I could say was a simple "I just want to be with you, Harry." I searched his eyes, hoping this time he wouldn't find it clingy. He blinked back the happiness I knew he felt, knowing that I wasn't about to give him the cold-shoulder or a hard time. "And actually, I do have more to say." I continued just as he opened his mouth to speak, but shut it, looking down. He turned back to me, still attentive. "You made me feel so insignificant today, Harry. I hated this cold you, I hated you shouting at everybody, including Anthony and Lu-"
"This is about us. Not them." He cut in, and I instantly regretted bringing up Anthony in the conversation, knowing how Harry felt jealous of him.
"Right, but regardless. Whatever it was with Jeff this morning, none of us deserved to bear the brunt of it, H." My voice became softer, not wanting to hurt him either. "You're leaving tomorrow and all I wanted was to be with you."
"I'm sorry about that, J. But you should know that everything today was for you," Harry explained, his voice filled with genuine remorse yet conviction, to get me to understand him. His words echoed in my mind, and I tried to process his perspective. He had been working tirelessly all day - I couldn't find fault in that surely.
"I was on so many calls to make sure that security would be tight around the house 24/7 whilst I was gone," he continued, his voice carrying a mix of concern and determination. "Management didn't let me borrow any more of the security team they usually contact for anything, so I asked Anthony for any contacts so we had more security here. And then, you've got a chef and assistant - Francia - to come in tomorrow morning to stay here - I know her very well - but I had to pull a few strings to get it in place on such short notice," he revealed, eyeing my reaction the whole time.
"But I hated the thought of not knowing what was happening unless they gave me updates, so I've put up some more cameras, with Luis and Anthony, and linked them all to my phone and laptop. And they linked it to theirs too. It's sound and motion sensor so any small movement will notify us all," he explained. But my issue was never that he didn't care - I didn't doubt that for a second, it was him making me feel insignificant that really bothered me.
"After the miscarriage, after almost losing you, I'm terrified, babe of leaving you here alone," Harry's voice wavered, and I could sense the depth of his fears. The painful memories of our past experiences flashed through my mind, reminding me of the fragility of life and the preciousness of our relationship.
"I just want everything in place," he confessed, his words laced with vulnerability. His actions, from hiring Luis as a housekeeper to arranging for Francia's assistance, all revolved around his deep desire for safety, an expression of love and protection.
As Harry's words settled in my mind, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. Whilst I was grateful though, I also couldn't shake the feeling as a longed for his attention regardless.
In that moment, I realised the complexity of our relationship. We both had wounds that needed healing, and finding a way to bridge the gap would require open communication and understanding.
"Harry, I'm sorry firstly, that I didn't understand the extent to how busy you were and also I appreciate it so much that you care this much. So, thank you, as well," I'd spoke finally, my voice reflecting that appreciation and my eyes building that bridge of connection with him. I felt like I fell in love with him all over again. "I just wish you communicated that to me - I would have understood. I wouldn't have even minded just sitting with you whilst you got on with everything. You made me feel like I wasn't a priority."
"You are my priority, you always have been, J. I promise that. Nothing and nobody will ever be more important. And I'm sorry I wasted our whole day." He finally said, his words resonating within me. The weight of his words lifted some of the lingering anger and hurt. It was as if he was reaffirming his commitment to me, reminding me that our connection held immeasurable value.
"In fact, I'm sorry for so much more. I'm sorry for ignoring you all day and pushing away, making you feel like you don't matter - you do - and I'm sorry for being so horrible and raising my voice at you downstairs. I'm sorry for it all," his voice tinged with regret, his admission acknowledged the significance of the time we had lost, a day tainted by misunderstandings and emotional turmoil.
"Thank you, Harry." I said, a genuine smile gracing my lips. "And I'm sorry for adding onto your problems and not understanding it. I could have approached it better."
"You were hurt, J. You approached it the best way possible. I saw you hesitating, back and forth, debating whether to say something. And I'm glad you did." He chuckled, evoking a sense of amusement that resonated with me, and soon enough, we both shared a laugh, easing the tension that lingered from earlier.
The sound of our laughter filled the air, replacing the morning's silence and the evening's arguments, bringing back the warmth and happiness to our home. Harry leaned in to kiss my forehead before his gaze shifted to my leg.
"Oh, and I didn't mention it earlier, but I'm really sorry for the cut this morning. It was an accident." He confessed, slightly amused at the last sentence.
"Was it truly an accident?" I playfully rolled my eyes, joining in the laughter.
"Hmm, perhaps it wasn't," he smirked mischievously, his charm in full display. "Maybe I knew you would..."
However, as his eyes landed on the mark, his face transformed, losing all traces of happiness within seconds. A realisation dawned on him, and his demeanor shifted to one of concern. "Babe? I'm truly sorry," he frowned, his remorse evident.
Confusion washed over me at his sudden change in mood. What could have triggered such a shift? It was just a simple scratch on my leg, and - oh. It clicked suddenly.
I bit my lip, feeling a sense of embarrassment resurfacing. I had forgotten that he knew about it. "Harry, it's fine," I assured him, refusing to let him dwell on something from the past. "It was an accident, and that is long gone history now." I referred to what I knew he was thinking. I hated that it crossed his mind. "Come on, let's go do something. I'll sit with you whilst you finish off your stuff."
He glanced at me, before realising he was totally okay to shake it off and move on. And whilst all he may have done was suppress it, at least he wasn't thinking about any longer.
"Let's go on a walk instead. And when we come back, I want to make you dinner - which we'll probably actually get to eating at midnight since it's so late already." He'd said, standing up finally.
The two of us just slipped on our jackets, in case the evening chill gets us, and we got Anthony to follow behind us. We were out of the house within minutes, taking a nice long walk nearby, to the station and further down to grab a quick drink, before we walked all the way around, back to our house.
And soon enough, Harry was in the kitchen making us chicken pie - something absurd to begin making at nine at night, but it was these spontaneous moments that were worth living at times, to truly experience the beauties of life. I was sat by the breakfast bar, as I watched him cook away. It was my favourite sight - not just because I sucked at cooking - largely that - but also, Harry focused so hard when he made anything. Whilst the pie was in the oven, Harry surprised me by asking me for help.
"I want to make chocolate mousse, for you - and myself - but I only like your's," he recalled the time I'd made it for him, and then again when his dad came over. He was in love with the sweet treat, and trapped me into helping him make it.
"I didn't tell you before, but this chocolate mousse recipe was passed through Mum's family. And she always made two, one for Jess and I each to have every birthday breakfast." I informed him, his eyes and ears perking up in interest right off the bat.
"That's so sweet," he smiled softly. "I wish I knew that before your birthday, though, now." His face showed disappointment.
I laughed at that, his statement beyond adorable. "I mean, the first time you had it, was after my birthday."
"Next year," he said to himself. "But teach me, please?"
"But, H, we have to leave it to set in the fridge for a few hours at least - if not overnight."
"Ah," he nodded, realising the issue. It was already almost midnight and we'd at least need to wait two hours, at the very least. "I mean, I still haven't packed my bag. We can always make it quickly and have it as a late night or early morning snack," he laughed ever so quietly, suggesting the idea with a slight cheek. "If you sleep, we'll just have it before I leave in the morning."
"I don't think I'll be sleeping to be honest. Because of you, I've managed to nap for like 3 hours and that's a lot for me." I narrowed my eyes, smirking softly and he glared, feigning annoyance that I brought that up. "Let's make it." I got up and went straight to wash my hands, telling Harry to wash the mixing bowl and wooden spoon he used for the pie, as I collected all the ingredients we needed.
It didn't take too long to actually get it done, as I instructed and showed him what to do to get the best texture possible. He listened attentively and got right into it, which was adorable. He was also extremely childish and high, for it being so late in the night, as he insisted he cracked the eggs, needing to show me his talent at cracking it with one hand and separating the whites. I could only laugh at him as I watched him.
"Mum always added in a dash of coffee and cinnamon, which is what adds to that taste, which is why you probably like it." I explained to him, which surprised him but also it made sense. Generally chocolate and coffee were amazing together and the cinnamon just enhanced it. As chatter filled the room, the aroma of the pie and the chocolate mixed and lingered like a warm hug. Good food, laughter and family - it sometimes was all you needed in life. It definitely served as the distraction we needed.
Eventually, it was in the fridge and we'd quickly finished cleaning up so that we could just sit together for a while, before the pie was ready. It was only a few minutes later that the oven beeped, and Harry's face beamed with happiness and he jumped up from the seat to take the pie out of the oven. Letting it cool for a bit, he went and filled up the water, bringing it over to the dining table for us and he set the table nicely - of course he did. He went as far as dimming the main light and lighting two of the candles that were on the table runner, which was still decorated up from the time we'd had our anniversary party, merely a few weeks prior. So much had changed since then, and it shocked me greatly.
"Sit down, I'll bring the pie." He said, pulling out the chair for me, before quickly doing as he said. It was steaming just a little still, as Harry bought the glass container over, setting it in the middle of the table, between us before he promptly sat beside me - something we'd grown used to, instead of traditionally sitting opposite each other. It felt more intimate and close that way.
Bodies turned towards each other, leaning in to talk, our knees colliding, playing footsies purposefully and accidentally, with hushed voices as though we had secrets to tell the other, the occasional hand brushes and the proximity meant so much more to us both.
Our words danced in the air, like breath on a cold night. Our laughter filled the room as though it was music. An atmosphere that was uniquely only ours, a little safe haven of a bubble, we clung onto the time with all our might.
Surely hours later, after dinner was over, I'd encouraged Harry to pack his suitcase, helping as much as I could. It was around 2 in the morning that we'd devoured the chocolate mousse, and were laying in bed, holding on to each other like we didn't ever want to let go.
A shell of a man as he laid, curled up beside me, I was beyond concerned for him, more so than ever before. His fingers were drawing patterns on my bare arm, as we'd come down from the high of the night and fallen into the bask of early morning. It was dawn soon and Harry was more emotional than I'd ever seen him before.
"I don't want to leave you, J. I don't want to go." His closed eyes betrayed the pain he sought to suppress, a futile attempt to shield himself from the impending anguish. With an intensity that surpassed words, he looked to me, seeking comfort and reassurance in my gaze. "This is a month for Europe, and then I'll hopefully be home for a week and then it's three whole months in the States and then a week off before the UK shows. It's freaking June - I have four months of this non-stop. Of leaving you here."
"I don't know what to say, babe," I sighed softly. "But, just take it bit by bit. Only focus on the Europe shows first. And hopefully we'll get to see each other even for a few days before the America shows. And then we go through that, and then we can focus on the UK shows. Maybe for those, I can tag along." I tried to offer a different perspective, but instead, I felt a tear drop onto the bed beside us, next to my hand and he shut his eyes, more upset than he could even express.
If I was concerned for Harry the day he had the panic attack, even that hadn't prepared me for the way he'd behaved then. It was shocking and upsetting both and had me a crying mess too. An emotional moment for the two of us, we couldn't say much to each other to comfort one another. My heart ached for him, and I tried to find the words to provide even the littlest bit of solace. I could stay at home and cry, but he had a job to get to and I'd hate if Harry wasn't able to enjoy his potential last tour with the boys - he'd not be able to experience it again. He deserved to enjoy himself.
"I don't know if I can go on tour and act like everything's okay, you know? It feels fake to everyone and to myself. Especially now that everyone's going to be speculating my every move because the rumour's out and they're all talking about. They don't need to be talking about this part of my life - it's mine, right? It's our's - not their's. It's not just some gossip, it's real." He sat up on bed, his voice trembling slightly. "And I just don't think I'm ready to go on stage and sing and dance around and have fun. I'm not ready."
"Oh, Harry," I reached to cup his face, my fingers wiping away his tears from his face. No matter how intimate other moments between us had been, even mere moments ago, the vulnerability of the moment was so raw and felt so much more intimate. It was emotional and mental intimacy and that was one of the rarest forms of love, I felt. "It's not easy for me to encourage you to go, but Harry, this is the last tour with the band for who knows how long. I'd hate if you didn't try to savour it and enjoy yourself. You won't get this back and later on, you'll regret that you didn't make the best memories with the boys and with the fans. I know it's hard and I totally understand where you're coming from, especially to find joy in the face of this. I'm struggling too and I guess it's why I'm not the best person to take advice from, but Harry let the tour be a form of healing for you. As you get on that stage, remember that the boys and the fans, your family are all there for you. I'll be here physically, but know that I'll always be there to support you. Write stuff down, get things on paper, go to the studio since you enjoy that too, go and explore. And I'm just a phone call away whenever you want to talk." I hoped I could even offer a shred of hope to him, a fraction of what he's done for me. It was something I knew I had to get better at - to be there for him, just as much as he's always been for me.
"I'm scared to leave you alone, J." He'd admitted, a shaky breath. "I know we've taken all the precautions possible but with the stalker and what's just happened, it terrifies me - the thought of leaving you alone," he'd searched my eyes for reassurance, but to that, even I had no idea what to say to being him comfort.
"And I know how you are, you'll forget to take your medicines, and even though you're trying to get better at eating, you still struggle at times, which is okay, obviously, but I hate that I can't be here for you and help you out - to remind you to take your meds, make you food and just take care of you," he sighed to himself and by that point, it almost seemed like he was ranting to himself as he looked at our hands intertwined on the bed still.
"And I know you'll say you don't need to be taken care of, but you get frequent migraines, you struggle to sleep and - and you might need to take sleeping pills - oh, please, don't overdose on those?" He looked up at me, panicking as the new worry crossed his mind. "If you get a panic attack, or a similar urge like that first week we were home to - well, you know - who's here for you?" He shut his eyes again, his face pointing up at the ceiling, almost out of exasperation. He reminded me of the incident, when I was very close to reverting back to an older habit that he'd had to plead me to stop. Whilst I couldn't deny that his words were highlighting to me so much that I had chosen to ignore, it didn't phase me or anger me as I found some sense and truth in it.
"I'll try to be better, I promise, H." I squeezed his hand tightly. "For you, I want to. When you get back, I'll be here and hopefully better than ever. There's security - you've upped the level of surveillance around the home yourself, babe. Things will hopefully be okay."
"I'll be on the phone with you every minute I'm free, J." He sighed to himself, wiping his tear-stained cheek. "I told you about Francia, right?" I nodded my head. "She'll be here half an hour before I leave. I'll show her around and basically, she's Sarah's friend - Sarah from the kitchen crew on tour. And she's worked with us a bit during the early days of tour so I know her and I trust her too. Please, take her help, okay?" He pleaded and I merely nodded my head once more.
"You will too, right?" I looked into his eyes, hoping for a similar promise from him, as I was equally worried. "You'll look after yourself for me? Sleep and rest well, make sure you eat and do stuff to bring you joy, Harry. You're so strong and I've always been so incredibly in awe of that. You brought the sun to my darkest days, and I want to do the same for you. You deserve that also, and whilst you're away, please do it for yourself. Be strong, okay? Allow yourself to mourn, but live these next two months and enjoy yourself. You love performing for the fans - make sure you make the best out of it. We'll honor the baby's memory in our hearts, and through strength, we'll keep their spirit alive for the two of us, okay?"
This time he nodded his head, before getting comfortable in bed again, laying back down. "There's three hours till you have to leave, babe. Get some rest." I'd encouraged him, my hand on his arm, tracing the tattoo he got with me merely months ago. He shook his head at my request.
"I'll sleep on the aeroplane. You should sleep though, it'll make me feel better knowing you've slept a bit today." He whispered, his finger tracing back and forth across my cheek. "Sleep so I don't have to say bye to you, please?" His voice was quiet, almost pleading me desperately. But I couldn't respond, overcome with the emotion of the moment.
"Either we both sleep or we're both awake, H." I'd replied back to him, just to catch him in the middle of stifling a yawn. "Turn the lamp off, let's both get some rest, yeah?"
He was about to protest, but I shook my head, before leaning over to take both our phones from the bedside table so that we could put an alarm in case Harry slept in. It was hard for us to get to sleep after such a stressful day and an emotional night, but eventually, the fatigue we felt coaxed us into taking a nap. It would be a way for us to escape reality for a little while, numbing our minds and calming us down before we would face the next chapter of our lives.