this is how harry looks in this chapter :)
this is another flashback chapter
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HANA - 16TH MARCH 2000
After almost a month, I've finally built up the courage to visit Harry again, alone this time. I still can't believe what had happened the last time I saw him, but I want it to happen again, as pathetic as that is.
"Hi, I'm Harry and I'm the live entertainment tonight. 'm going to be singing a few songs - I hope you enjoy," he speaks into the microphone, unable to see me as I stand behind a man who I'm sure must be at least six foot seven. When I peak over his shoulders, Harry looks slightly dejected as he glances around the room, but he quickly shakes it off and begins to play his guitar expertly, "this one isn't original, but I hope you'll all know it."
Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise,
Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies.
And if you don't love me now,
You will never love me again,
I can still hear you saying,
You would never break the chain.
I step out in front of my temporary cover, Harry spotting me immediately and smiling widely, his singing becoming louder and clearer as I weave my way right to the front of the stage. His eyes are trained on me the entire time, settling on me - and my outfit - as I press my stomach to the front of the small stage whilst my focus flicks between his contented expression and his rich voice.
And if you don't love me now,
You will never love me again,
I can still hear you saying,
You would never break the chain.
Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night,
Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies,
Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light.
The audience appears to be enjoying his rendition, covered incredibly smoothly and joined with the occasional charming smile from Harry.
And if you don't love me now,
You will never love me again,
I can still hear you saying,
You would never break the chain.
He looks and sounds angelic, his accent much clearer as he sings, his long hair drifting impishly into his vision and bright eyes darting around the room.
And if you don't love me now,
You will never love me again,
I can still hear you saying,
You would never break the chain.
I glance to the ceiling to halt my surfacing emotions, my expression set solidly in attempt not to sob just at his fulfilling presence. He's studying at me between glancing at his guitar, trying not to smile, and by the glint in his eyes, he's simply elated that I appeared.
Chain keep us together, running in the shadow,
Chain keep us together, running in the shadow,
Chain keep us together, running in the shadow.
Skilfully, he finishes the classic song, burning the richness of his voice into my mind forever. Daringly, he leans down to talk to me, a few people staring angrily, clearly having their eye on him; please, take him, he's not mine anymore.
"Can I talk about you?" he inquires softly, smiling appreciatively as I nod and returning to stand in front of the microphone, "this next one is an original called Cherry - it's written about someone in this room, actually, someone I love very much. I love you, Cherrybaby."
The moment he begins to strum the strings of the purple guitar he used the first day I met him, I know I'm going to sob pathetically at this song.
Don't you call him baby,
We're not talking lately,
Don't you call him what you used to call me.
I, I confess,
I can tell that you are at your best,
I'm selfish so I'm hating it.
Tears are already brimming in my eyes just at the prospect of him taking the time and effort to compose an entire song, dedicated to me.
I notice that,
There's a piece of you in how I dress,
Take it as a compliment.
I notice him shift his hand to show me his nails, painted pink and blue like so had done three years ago, the first time I visited Camp Cherry, in turn displaying the cherry tattoo, the exact same one I have inked onto my ankle.
Don't you call him baby,
We're not talking lately,
Don't you call him what you used to call me.
I, I just miss,
I just miss your accent and your friends,
Did you know I still talk to them?
Does he take you walking round his parents gallery?
My mind flips back to when he would make fun of the way I pronounced things - tomato, his name - and the tears only become more difficult to stem. A few people around me begin to speculate that I'm the subject - I'm Cherry. I hear a few girls whispering about how cute this is, how I look at him like I'm in love, another arguing that it's not me entirely, but I can't care less.
Don't you call him baby,
We're not talking lately,
Don't you call him what you used to call me.
Don't you call him baby,
We're not talking lately,
Don't you call him what you used to call me.
The music ends, and I see a man behind a computer just beside the stage press a button, and suddenly the music starts again, Harry's guitar accompanying the music playing from the speakers.
"Ciao, stai dormendo? Mi displace. Non è importante. Semplicemente mi manchi. Per favore richiamami. Ti amo, Harry, addio."
I freeze; he put my pathetic, drunken voicemail that I had regrettably sent last year in his song?
He glances to me as if to assess my reaction, worriedly bending down to me when I gesture that I'd like to speak to him. Once close enough, I grab the soft fabric of his jacket and kiss him as well as I can through my immovable smile.
"Told you that was her," I hear the girl from before nudging her disbelieving friend, but all I can concentrate on is Harry's soft tongue sneaking into my mouth before he pulls away with a dazed smile and straightens his posture.
"Ti amo, ti amo mucho," he speaks into the microphone, trying his best to hide the overjoy contorting his features and doing an absolutely terrible job of it.
In a split decision, I raise my hand, sticking my little finger out waiting for Harry to take it. Stunned, he accepts, even more so when I gently pull him towards me and whisper softly into his ear, "I want you."
He smiles, ecstatic and plays one last song, - Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell, one of our shared favourites - before constructing a swift goodbye. Messily packing up his kit, he's guiding me out onto the busy street.
"I don't have my car, shit," he seems to just remember, sighing in relief as I unlock my car; whilst admittedly shitty and old, it works enough.
"My place is closer, I'm just gonna go there," I suggest, proceeding to drive slightly above the speed limit to prevent the second thoughts and hesitations sneaking into my head, "I have an apartment ten minutes away."
He just nods wordlessly, his leg bouncing nervously, "are you still in school—"
"Harry, we don't need to talk, we're just fucking," I cut him off shortly, swallowing the memories of everything and looking out the window for a second to compose myself, trying not to visibly react when he tentatively removes his hand from my personal space.
Thankfully, we arrive to my apartment quick enough; it's large enough to satisfy my needs alone. The short ride in the elevator spent is incredibly awkward, filled tense silence which breaks out into hungry gasps and moans the second we make it through the door, my back pressed to the wall and his fingers tangled in my hair.
"Fuck, Cherry, I love you," I can't bring myself to say the words right now, so I distract him by dropping to my knees and unbuckling his belt quickly, tugging down his jeans and boxers and immediately wrapping my hand around him, "God, I missed you," he groans, instantly wanting more as his hand flies to the back of my head to guide me, although he gives me some time to collect myself and start a slow pace. I wrap my lips around his tip and suck lightly, the feeling of him in my mouth familiar, yet somehow strange, as I sink him further into my throat. Whining, he pushes my head down slightly, which I usually hate, but with Harry it only turns me on more, he uses his thumb to trace my cheekbones, whimpering random phrases into the air, "good girl, fuck."
Eventually his patience snaps and he cups the sides of my face, locking onto my eyes for a moment as if assessing my reaction, and thrusting forwards with a moan when I shift my head to nod; this is difficult. His cock strikes the back of my throat and slightly further every time, and my gag reflex is currently not handling this very well. He switches between holding my head still by his strong grip in my hair and his hips moving, and pressing back against the wall and forcing my head down before pulling it back roughly.
He manages to stop, although I can tell he just wants to come in my mouth, and pulls me up, kissing me softly, such a high contrast to his rough movements only ten seconds ago.
"Are you alright?" he questions softly, clearly concerned as I continue to gasp to catch my breath, not believing me when I nod and ask him to fuck me. After a little while, however, he's clearly had enough of waiting patiently, pulling my arms around him and kissing me deeply, blindly leading us to what luckily ends up being my small kitchen.
The layout definitely isn't thought out the best, but I suppose it functions, and my oven apparently works better than some of my neighbours who complain about it every time I collect the mail.
His hands are clutching my ass harshly, moving to my thighs and lifting me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist and core clenching pathetically as he sets me down on the counter that I had thankfully cleared of mess earlier, purposefully pressing his exposed crotch into mine and groaning at the friction it creates for us both.
"I need to fuck you now," he states, more of a thought accidentally voiced aloud than anything. His fingers work swiftly to remove my jeans and not even bother to pull them past my ankles, my pants soon joining them. I moan into his mouth as he reaches between us and slips one finger inside of me, thumb circling my clit, "need to feel you to come around my fingers, Cherrybomb."
I ignore the nickname, only concentrating on another finger entering me, the stretch not nearly as bad as in the car, but I can definitely feel it. His small thrusts increase in pace, fingertips massaging my sensitivity and thumb still tracing my clit as his tongue slips inside of my mouth to stifle my loud whimpers and moans.
"Fuck, Harry," I whine, Harry's forehead falling to rest on my shoulder as he mumbles something about how much he missed me, how much he loves me, how he's so sorry, "I'm close," I choke out, his movements speeding up and increasing in intensity, causing my orgasm to rip through my body abruptly. My hips jolt and muscles clench around his long fingers strongly in response.
He pulls out and sucks them into his mouth, making sure to keep intense eye contact with me as he spreads my legs further with his knee and kisses me softly, knowing I'll probably be much too loud as he roughly slams into me, my walls stretching painfully to adjust to his size.
"Good?" he assures, circling just hips only slightly, but the movement is felt throughout my entire body.
"I'm really good, I'm fine," I reply honestly. His nails dig into my waist while mine into the smooth on his back, scratching at the defined muscles to relieve the agonising tension in my stomach as he slowly pulls out, a whine leaving my lips as he leaves me completely.
"I missed you so bad, I thought I'd never see you again, I love you so much, I wish I could tell you how much I love you," his mumbled phrases are barely processed as he slowly slips in and out of me, eyes flicking between where we are connected, eagerly watching his glistening cock disappear time and time again inside of me, and my face, currently scrunched up in overwhelming pleasure and need.
"Please, fuck me harder, choke me, please," I beg shamelessly, moaning as his tip strokes into every sensitive spot it possibly could. His hand wraps around my throat as he drives forward, seemingly hitting deeper and deeper each time, "oh, fuck, daddy, so good!"
I certainly did not mean to say that.
"Shit, you feel so good, you're such a good girl," he gasps, seemingly enjoying my accidental slip-up very much as his grip on jaw falters and he grasps my chin tightly. Tilting my head back and slightly to the side as he teases his open mouth against mine, fingers gripping my jaw straight, my stomach clenches when he spits mercilessly into my mouth.
I clamp around him tightly - too tightly, as it seems - as he pulls out with a sharp inhale, although he grasps my hips and lifts me down. My legs are shaky and numb as he flips me and pushes me to make my stomach to meet the edge of the counter, one of my hands slamming against the cupboard above my head as he aligns his hips with mine again and thrusts forward roughly, keeping this relentless and unforgiving pace until I'm completely uncontrolled with my moans and whimpers.
One hand cracks against my ass firmly whilst the other wraps around my throat again, squeezing tighter and tighter with every gratifying thrust. His free hand then moves to my hair, tangling a fist into the strands and tugging harshly until my head falls back with an obscene whine as he fucks me harder and deeper and much faster until I tense completely. Coming around him as he continues his quick movements and not even slowing to appreciate the feeling of my muscles clamping down on him tighter than usual, I'm entirely too lost in the euphoria.
"Oh, fuck, I'm com—fuck! Baby! Fuck, holy shit!" he practically yells as his hips stutter erratically and he stills suddenly, lazily circling my weak body against him to pull him through the indescribable feeling, "are you okay?" he asks breathlessly, pulling out of me with a wince and bending down to my level. My forehead rests against the counter, all the feeling in my legs fucked out me, which I'm not complaining too much about.
"Yeah, I might need some help, though," I exhale bemusedly, still completely exhausted and digging my face into the crook of my elbow. His arm hooks around my waist while the other bends my legs by my knees to carry me to the sofa dramatically.
"I thought you weren't coming back," he whispers into the heated air around us, laying me flat on my back whilst he presses against the back of the sofa, facing me and trailing his touch all over my skin; he's much too close considering how much I want to punch him, but I also want to kiss him and tell him I love him. I just say nothing instead, "I'm glad you came, Cherry, I want to see you again."
"When?"
"Any time," he replies vaguely, my only response being a curt nod as my fingertips draw up and down his tanned arm before threading through his soft curls - I keep forgetting they're grown out now.
"Why'd you grow your hair?" I ask suddenly, the patterns and shapes he was scribing against my skin stopping for a moment as he considers his answer.
"Needed to change."
"Did you?"
"Not as much as I wanted."
"I don't want you to change," I reply before I can process my words, his eyes widening in alarm as he lifts his head to look at me properly.
"I love you," he speaks softly, almost as if he were in disbelief that he's with me again.
"I think you should go," suddenly, my mind flips from my post-orgasm haze and I'm wondering what the fuck I'm doing. Why I'm allowing this man who destroyed my heart so badly barely two years ago to return to my life.
"Wait..." he stops me as I stand from the sofa, coldly pushing him from my body at the same time, "call me? If you need anything."
"I don't need anything."
"If you want sex... I'm here, please call me."
"I'm not using you for sex, Harry."
"Please, just call me."
I roll my lips together whilst contemplating his desperate request, "fine."
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hana in this chapter :)