A/N: this is a warning, if you struggle with suicidal thoughts or know someone who has, this may be a trigger. If you do struggle, I encourage you to talk to someone. You are never alone in this life. There are people here to talk to and help you. You are loved- even if you may feel like you're not.
ISABELLA
It's funny how fast a place can become your home. It doesn't take long for a city that was once foreign and rather frightening to become the one place you feel the most safe at. London had quickly become that for me.
Harry pulled up in front of his apartment building. Even outside of the city, the night was alive. People filled the sidewalks, cars on the roads. Laughter and excited chatter sounding from each home that we passed. All enjoying the Easter holiday. Oblivious to the slight discomfort in this best up Volkswagen. The harsh rumble of the engine cooling subsides. Harry's grip loosening on the key. He doesn't say anything as he steps out of the car. I follow him silently behind. He carries our bags through the door, even though I offered to carry my own. He sets his bag on the ground as he searches his back pocket for his key. Once he finds it, he is quick to unlock and the door swings back.
Harry steps aside for me to walk in first. The harsh darkness of the vacant room takes me off guard, my vision taking a moment to focus. My senses are on overdrive. I am overwhelmed by Harry's scent the moment I stepped inside his apartment. Or, rather, his flat.
Scratch out everything I had thought before about London being home. This, right here, amidst the overwhelming scent of cigarette, laundry detergent, cologne and mint- was home. Harry was becoming my home.
"Shit," I hear Harry groan. He flicks the light switch on, the soft light illuminating the small living room.
I watch as Harry slips his boots off. The bags long forgotten on the floor. I slip my own boots off, wiggling my toes in relief.
"Babe. 'M come 'ere." He holds his hand out for me. The small gesture quickens my heartbeat.
My hand finds it's place intertwined with his. He gives it a small squeeze. I follow Harry's lead towards his bedroom. The light of the streetlamp below illuminating the room. We don't bother to turn on the light; the light from outside guiding us.
I let Harry sit down first. I follow him soon after, leaning my back against the wall. We sit in silence for a moment before Harry sits up straighter. His long legs stretched out against the mattress. Time seemed to grow still, our steady breaths being heard across the small space. I feel Harry stir beside me. Soon after his arm reaches around my body, his hand against my waist, and my side pressed against his.
"When my dad left us, my mom had this friend. Jenna. " I stay quiet once Harry begins to speak. His voice is soft; a complete contrast to his usual loud and steady tone. " She let us stay with her and her family. Her husband, Nick, was cool. He became more of a father figure to me than Mark ever was. They had a daughter: Sarah." Harry pauses. His eyes glance down and back up to the vacant wall in front of him. "She was my age. We ended up becoming best friends. We did everything together."
My eyes glance over at the vulnerable man beside me. I looked at the corner of his eye, catching a glimpse of the redness that lined them. I could already tell that this Sarah girl was important to him. Whoever she was. I couldn't help the aching feeling in my chest when I thought about Harry with another girl. Especially a girl that held so much importance to him. Was it wrong to feel jealous of this Sarah? To be jealous of a girl that probably had all of his heart. To had been given so freely his love and trust- something I was still striving to own.
"When we were fourteen, 'm I asked her on a date. We went to the movies. I told her that night that I liked her and wanted her to be mine. " The tinge of jealousy I had a sliver of grew exceptionally larger. "She said yeah and we were together."
Harry grabs my hand, his fingers interlocking with mine. "You asked me if I ever fell in love," he says to me. His gaze not faltering from our hands. I don't say anything. A measly nod is a I do in response. "Sarah was my fucking life. My goddamn sunshine. She was everything I wanted and hoped for."
I bite on my lip to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. I couldn't cry. Not right now. This wasn't my thing to cry over. Not over his past.
"What happened? " I ask him.
"She killed herself." He replies to me. His voice bitter.
My heart drops. That had not been the answer I expected to hear. "Oh."
Harry laughs bitterly. His hand sweats against my skin. The grip he had on my hand tightens. "She fucking took her life because girls were making fun of her. Calling her a damn slut for having a boyfriend. We were sixteen. How fucking unusual is it for sixteen year olds to date? She let those bitches ruin her."
The unsteady breathing that came from Harry worried me. I could see his hands shake at his sides. Anger coursing through his body. All of my previous jealous thoughts vanishing. This poor girl had taken her life, leaving a young, heartbroken boy alone. A boy who was already so alone from his fathers disappearance. I felt angry. Angry for the young boy who lost his love and trust. The boy that grew to be this man: a man full of trust issues and pent up anger. A man that I was helplessly falling more and more for every day.
"How did she, um... How did it-" the words struggle to leave my lips.
"How did she kill herself?" Harry easily asks for me.
"Yeah."
"She took her mothers anxiety pills. Downed the bottle. I went over to her house that morning. We were supposed to go camping, just her and I. Found her dead in her bed."
"Was there a note or anything?"
Harry scoffs. His whole body tenses. "No." Harry pauses. A deep intake of breath following soon after. "She kept her computer open to the website dedicated to talking shit about her. It was full of girls telling her to kill herself. So she did. She fucking let them win."
Instinctively, I grab Harry's hand. I squeeze it tight. "She promised. She promised she'd always be there. She fucking lied." Harry . His voice remains leveled. An eerie calmness to his tone.
I don't say anything. No words seemed right. We sat in his bed. My hands wrapped tightly around his own. I rub gentle patterns along his skin. My head resting against his shoulder. Moments pass us by. Seconds turn to minutes in which turn to hours. We stay silent on his bed.
An hour goes by. I have found myself laying down against the unmade sheets. My body curled up against Harry's side. He has one arm resting under his head, the other swung loosely around my body. We stay in silence. The boisterous sounds of the city outside the only background noise to be heard.
"Harry?" My voice is a loud contrast to the silence surrounding us.
"Mmm." Harry hums a response.
I take a moment before I speak. Each word carefully being thought out and chosen. "I know that I can never replace what you and Sarah had. I know that you'll never love me like you loved her. But know that I am not going to leave you. I get that opening up is hard but I'm ok with waiting. I care about you too much to let you go."
He doesn't say anything. My words drifting out into the air. Before I can think he's asleep, he opens his mouth to speak.
"I won't let you go." Harry tells me. The deep mumble of bis sleep heavy voice speaks into my ear. My heart skips a beat. These words hold more meaning than he'd ever truly understand. For him to say that he would not let me go was a big step for Harry. A declaration that be was willing to at least try.
"Alright," I whisper against his bare skin.
Harry's breathing soon grows steady. An indication of his new found slumber. I close my own eyes. My body moulding into his side. Sleep soon taking over my own body and senses. My mind wanders off. Thoughts surface about the curly haired adonis that lays beside me. Thoughts that turn into dreams. Dreams that turn into hope- hope of a future with Harry and the love that I was undoubtedly falling into with him.
-
Wake up." A voice calls out to me. It's raspy tone sends my body into overdrive. My eyes fight to open, but sleep keeps them shut.
"Baby-" the voice calls out once more. "Wake up, baby girl."
Lips touch my forehead. The warmth of the unknown culprit's breath tickles my skin. Their lips move from my forehead and down to my cheek. Soon after, leaving a kiss to my jaw. Strong hands wrap around my waist, fingers slipping under my shirt. The warmth of their skin sets my own skin on fire. My mind remains in the in between place of deep slumber and awake.
I struggle to open my eyes. It isn't until I feel plump lips touch mine. I open my eyes and am met with unruly curly hair. Immediately, my lips respond to Harry's kiss. I feel something hard press up against my thigh. I hold my breath from letting a moan escape.
Harry pulls away. A cheeky smirk on his lips. "I knew that would work."
I playfully slap his arm. "Jerk."
A loud laugh escapes Harry's lips. He looks at me. His eyes softening. He leans down, brushing his lips against mine softly. "You're something else."
A blush surfaces my skin. "What do you mean?"
He looks at me for a little bit longer. His eyes studying me carefully. "Even with all my shit, you want to be with me. I don't get it."
I wrap my hands around his neck. His legs sitting on either side of me. His forehead resting on mine, his hands supporting his weight against the pillow. "Your past is the past. It doesn't make you who you are now."
Harry looks at me once more before kissing me once again. "You're different to me Iz. You will never be like the other girls. How I feel about you is different than how I felt about Sarah. A better different. You made me feel again after all these years. I think-" Harry stops. His right hand traces lightly against my cheek and towards my lips. His calloused finger traces my soft lip. I can feel the quick beats of my heart.
His low voice speaks the next eight words slowly. Causing my heartbeat to quicken and my world to shift. "I think I'm falling in love with you."