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I stare at my reflection in the vanity mirror, something I have refused to do for far too long in fear that I would actually crumble beneath the gaze of my own somber eyes. Whether it was a purple ombre and swollen bags from the nightmares that would keep me awake at night of angry blue eyes and violent fists, sunken in cheeks from weeks of nausea at the hands of a cruel world who tried everything they could to pry into my life, or frown lines from trying but failing to cope with the death of my mother I never saw coming, I could never stare at my reflection for too long without being reminded of the truth of my sad existence.
Just when I would forget that my five best friends weren't each other's best friends anymore, that Harry and I were no longer together, or that I wasn't secretly miserable with the life I left Harry to find, a subtle glimpse of my dull eyes in the mirror would be enough to remind me.
I've been staring at myself for God knows how long, simply waiting for my reflection to warp back to what I know so well, but it never does.
My eyes have always been my favorite part of myself, because they are the one distinct feature I didn't get from my father. Our hair is the exact same shade of dark chocolate, facial features a perfect blend of Charles and Jane, and for the majority of my life I believed that our personalities were the same too. Like father like daughter.
But I always took pride that I got my eye color from Jane. Sure, I have always been massively jealous of how her's used to glow a brilliant gold even in the darkest of settings, but I still loved the drab color of mine nonetheless.
For far too long, the hardships I've found myself trapped in and even brought upon myself have made me hate the one thing I used to love so much.
Now, as I stare at myself in the vanity mirror, soft velvet plush of the chair I sit in pressing against my legs and brightly lit bedroom behind me, the smell of sea salt drifting into my nose from the open balcony doors, I finally find myself loving my eyes again.
In fact, I can see why Harry would even think to call me his golden girl, because before, I never understood how he could find such a divine rarity in the average color of my eyes.
Maybe it's the fact that I have my green eyed boy by my side again with no plans of ever letting each other go, maybe it's the little girl who I feel kicking around in my stomach every time her father sings to her, or maybe it's the fact that I have embraced everything that has happened to me as small bumps in the road that have made me into the person I am- the person that a younger version of myself never thought she could reach, but I can now smile and watch as the joy actually reaches my eyes.
Dark hair which shines with red velvet hues thanks to the evening sun hitting it through the windows billows out around my head in smooth curls that feel soft to the touch when I run my pale pink nails through the strands. The scent of freshly picked gardenias wafts up my nose at the motion thanks to the shampoo I used, another hint of the floral fragrance glued to the skin of my neck and wrists from the perfume I sprayed on.
A thin white dress that falls mid-calf whenever I'm standing adorns my body, the hem of the bodice stopping at my naval which gives my bump just enough breathing room, allowing for the skirt to flow out. The neckline is a soft sweetheart that sits right on the swell of my breasts, thin straps tying in two bows on either shoulder.
My chest is bare of any jewelry, the only pieces I have on being that of my rose ring and a dainty golden hoop in each ear.
However, my earring choice is not the only thing that appears to be golden. Along with the more prominent freckles that dot their way along my cheeks and wave over my nose, my skin appears to be the most golden shade of tan it has ever been thanks to the time I've been spending in the sun simply adventuring with Harry, something I never used to do.
From my collarbones and shoulders to the bow of my lips and upper cheekbones, everything has a subtle sunshiney glow with a hint of rose thanks to the summertime heat that travels from the surrounding beach and into our villa.
Thick brows, lips that always seem to pout, and large round doe eyes that beam as if each of them have a solar system revolving around them, I begin to see more of my mother in me than I ever have before.
I feel pretty.
"Admiring yourself?" Harry's voice pierces the silence suddenly, my eyes instantly flying from my own reflection to his body leaning leisurely in the bathroom doorway behind me.
A smile creeps up my lips at the sight of him reflecting back to me in the mirror, his dimpled smirk and mischievous emerald's boring into me as he crosses his arms over his chest.
Harry made no effort in styling his hair tonight, instead opting to leave the curls loose, flowing across his forehead in thick chestnut ringlets that look just as soft as I'm sure they feel. Green eyes radiate a shade of aquamarine thanks to the bright sky blue blazer he wears with a white blouse underneath that is striped with a similar blue shade.
Another beaded necklace sits at his throat with cerulean beads and 'Golden' written across the middle. Umber plaid pants hug his legs, flaring out lightly at the bottoms over a pair of tattered white vans that somehow manage to bring everything together, serving as the cherry on top of yet another perfect ensemble that looks better than anything I could ever wear myself.
"Maybe," I banter as I turn over my lightly shimmying shoulders to look at him with a wiggle of my brows.
Harry's facial features lift as he motions to me with an absent hand, pushing himself from the doorway and steadily making his way over to me. "As you should, I mean look at you, Belle. You're beautiful."
At his words, I can almost feel myself lifting off from the chair with the elation that swirls through my veins.
It is one thing to be told you are beautiful, however if you don't believe it yourself, nothing can come of it but second guessing that perhaps the person only said so out of obligation.
It is something completely different to be called beautiful when deep down, you feel like perhaps they could be telling the truth.
"Thank you," I gush with a small bite of my lip that transforms into a close-lipped smile, my giddiness pushing me to turn around in order to face the mirror again, head down as I stare at my fiddling fingers in my lap sheepishly.
I know it seems so stupid, but I can't help but shrink under his gaze that is nothing but adoring and so strong that it picks me up in its enormous hand and encloses me in a warm fist. My skin heats up with a powerful blush that brings a strange tingling from the tops of my ears to my bare toes that brush against the sandy wooden floor as if my blood is rushing through my body in an excited rush.
"You are so damn beautiful, Georgia Rose," Harry's voice drawls out much quieter now as I feel his magnetic presence grow closer, an electric current surging between us with every step he takes. His sudden touch upon my skin shocks me, the soft pads of his fingers tracing the curve of my shoulder before walking them along the path to my neck, however he doesn't stop there.
When his touch slides from the highest point of my back all the way over my shoulder to perch at the base of my throat, he guides his brightly colored nails up my neck where he reaches my chin, gently forcing me to look back and up at him with his silver thumb and warm yellow index finger.
"Hey," he calmly yet sternly speaks as he bends down into a crouching position, now eye level with me. He keeps his brilliant green eyes locked with my light brown one's for what feels like infinity, simply assaulting me with a look that seems to wonder why I wouldn't believe him when he tells me that he thinks I'm beautiful.
"Don't shy away from me, please," Harry almost pleads, his brows furrowing lightly to form a crease perfectly in the center. "I mean it every time, just as much as the last if not more, when I tell you that you are the most breathtakingly beautiful thing that my eyes have ever had the pleasure of looking at."
There's that feeling again that every time I open my mouth, the words get trapped deep down in my belly amongst the storm of butterflies that whirl and glide around in a tornado of different colors thanks to the vibrancy of their wings, however it is those very hues that bring me the most fantastical sensation on the inside without allowing me to show it on the outside. Each flap of them, each new burst of bliss, has a warranted habit of forming a sense of thankfulness within me but a bad habit of pushing it so far down that I physically don't know how to show what I'm feeling.
It's moments like this where I really want to show Harry what I'm actually feeling.
So despite his light grip on my chin, I surge forward to close the already small gap between us and kiss his lips feverishly but not so aggressively like I might have done in the past. It's just enough to let him know how thankful I am for not only his words but for him as a whole.
My hands instinctively reach up to cup his cheeks while his fall from my face, failing to touch me back as he sucks in a sharp, almost surprised breath.
He falters in his crouched position, falling to his knees so that I hover slightly above him from my seat in the chair. Taking my hands that cradle his face, I slide them back so that my palms rest right where his sharpened jaw draws up to meet his ears, fingers instantly entangling in his loose curls that are just as soft as they look.
Abruptly slipping my tongue into his mouth, I feel his groans vibrating back to me, my attempts of allowing my thankfulness to bleed through our intermingling tongues working all too well with each figure-eight I make.
Harry's hands finally find my waist, gripping gently as we pull apart momentarily for air, our heads angling opposite ways and noses brushing in the process.
I don't know what comes over me, but I know this is going past a point of thankfulness and beyond a point of need for him. I need him to help me forget all of the worries that have been building up inside of me, too close to boiling over and burning me from the inside out to wait any longer.
He allows his tongue to swim up to the roof of my mouth before pulling out and nipping my bottom lip slowly, his actions tugging away some of my pent up anxiety, but it isn't enough.
It isn't enough, so I take my hands from his hair and hastily entangle my fingers on the front of his shirt, drawing him forward so forcefully that he stumbles a bit, almost falling into me. With a faltering hold on my hips, he takes his hands away and clasps them around the edges of the chair I sit in which causes it to teeter a bit thanks to his wavering strength and ability to stay upright.
"Belle," he breathily giggles into my mouth at my haste as he uses his grip on the chair to push himself up, the skin beneath my chin pulling taut as I follow him with my mouth. Hands still fisting his striped blouse, I am quick to stand along with him, springing up to my tip toes in any effort to keep my lips molded with the magenta warmth of his.
The soft sound of his accent saying my name as he laughed has my worries that revolve around Harry, the boys, and their reunion tomorrow erupting into the air in the form of thick black smoke that the fire between us is producing.
His hands, each extremity that is painted a mixture between yellow and silver without a single ring except for the rose, searches for a place to connect, running up and down my back as I lean into him. Vanilla overtakes my nose, the struggle to close any and all gaps between us quickly becoming a feat that I am no longer sure I will succeed in beating thanks to a kicking Little Granger.
Finally settling his hands firmly upon my ass, Harry squeezes gently as he turns us around, walking forward until my back hits against the wall that is just beside the wide open balcony door. My eyes open for a moment to see the translucent white curtains billowing behind Harry's tall figure thanks to the beachy winds blowing in, our entire bedroom lit up a brilliant orange thanks to the setting sun, but nothing is as bright as the oddly seafoam shade of Harry's eyes.
All of my worries about Taylor announcing her new album tomorrow, Folklore, dissipate in a protective emerald bubble, floating off to a magical land where they will no longer be considered stresses but instead spouts of excitement.
Keeping his hands on my backside, the crucifix endowed skin stays still while his eyes are anything but. They roam over my face in search of something that I can't quite decipher, but where I typically would find solace in staring into the green abyss, now I simply want them to close as he leans down to kiss me again, however he doesn't.
I stare up at him through my mascara covered lashes, practically pleading with the gold swirls for him to hold me close, kiss me hard, and make me forget. But he sees right through me like he always does, the overpowering mint of his breath fanning over my face thanks to our close proximity making this even harder.
"What's on your mind?" He suddenly inquires, voice deep and raspy yet full of concern. I'm stupid to assume that by lifting to the tips of my toes, brushing my nose sensually with Harry's, and ghosting my lips over his that he will forget my faltering attitude. As much as I hope it will, it doesn't. That much is obvious in the way he immediately retracts his hands from my ass, instead bringing them between us to grip my wrists and pull my hands away from the fabric of his shirt that I've wrinkled. "Belle, darling, what's wrong?"
My shoulders sag as I realize he isn't going to relent now that he knows something is up, the sight of my eyes falling to stare at the swallows on his chest with a huff only adding fuel to the fire... or should I say pouring a bucket of water over the fire that is quickly going out. I fall from my tip toes, descending back down to our usual height difference, hands forming into fists that are clenched with frustration before I pull my wrists free from Harry's grasp.
I can feel his gaze beaming into the top of my head just as powerfully as it was moments ago when the emerald of his eyes were overflowing with adoration, and I know the longer I keep him waiting, the quicker this newfound worry will only worsen.
"I just-" I begin as I bring my eyes up to look at Harry, but I completely cut myself off upon the realization that keeping my gaze locked with his will only make this harder- only make this seem more ridiculous than I already know it is. That feeling of words forming with every intention of being spoken yet failing to roll off the tip of my tongue no matter how hard I try washes over me in waves that are so intense, I can't stop my body from falling forward pathetically, arms trailing around Harry's body to meet at his back in the form of a hug. "What if she doesn't want to be like me?"
"What?" His voice rings out like my light in the darkness, so bright that I should easily be able to find it, but my own demons are as persistent as ever. With Harry's questioning phrase, I can feel his chest vibrating against my cheek thanks to how I have it resting against the exposed skin where the buttons of his shirt don't connect in a similar fashion to the way his brain struggles to connect the pieces that will give him clarity on my life's latest and greatest worry.
I keep my cheek smushed against him, eyes focused on nothing in particular, stupid tears blurring the scenery. Even from their position wrapped around Harry's body, my fingers still find a way to fiddle with each other, the ring on pinky being their favorite nervous toy. Harry's limp arms lift up to encase me protectively, although I fear he doesn't understand that the villainous creatures have already breached his shield for they live inside of me.
"When I was a little girl," I breathe heavily, blinking rapidly to fight the tears that I didn't expect but have alas still decided to come, "I always wanted to look like my mom. Then, I thought that the only way to get anyone to like you, much less fall in love with you, was to have a pretty face, and my god she had that. I used to watch her do her makeup any chance I could, because I loved watching the way her eyes would get even lighter thanks to the shimmery colors she would always line them with. Even now, I can still smell the palette she would always use. It smelled so strongly of all things artificial, but I loved it anyway.
"She used that thing until it was covered in dust from all the colors and smudged with foundation that would leak from her bottle of it. I remember when she finally threw it away," I pause to dryly inhale a short laugh that is anything but genuine and all things sarcastic. One of my hands untangles from the other behind Harry's back and flies up to my face in an attempt to gently keep the tears building in my eyes from falling and smudging the subtle makeup that resides around them. "I ran to that trashcan like my life depended on it and tucked it away in my room for the day she would let me finally play with makeup, but that day never came because that palette was a gift from my father, and by the time I was old enough to use it they were in the thick of the divorce, and I didn't want anything to do with him or anything affiliated with him."
A single tear finally falls from my eyes, the first real sign of weakness that I always love to hate. I squeeze my eyes shut at the action, the remaining salt water managing to clump up in my lashes and bring a sniffle to my nose.
Harry hears the barely audible sound, immediately hugging me tighter as he traces lines in all different shapes and sizes around my back. "Please don't cry, my love," he whispers into my hair on the top of my head. "Please, please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry."
"I know, baby, and I promise you that I'm trying," I gasp out shakily, almost tempted to stop all together before anymore than one tear can fall from my pair of eyes that I can perfectly picture as rimmed with red and the odd shade of yellow they always turn upon the introduction of my sadness, but I've dragged Harry and myself much too deep to halt, so I keep pushing to the finish line. "But when I got older it became about so much more than looks and everything about her as a person. I wanted to be like her so bad, Harry... so, so bad, but I knew I never could be, so I tried to play it off as me wanting anything but that like the stupid, immature little girl I was, and that's what I'm scared of. What if our daughter wants to be nothing like me in the ways I only used to pretend regarding my own mother?
"What if there's nothing about me for her to look up too?" I finally finish, gulping down my tears as best as I can despite the block in my throat, but a few still manage to fall that I am quick to wipe away before joining my free hand with the one behind Harry's back again, certain that I am cutting off his airways with how tightly I am holding onto him, but he seems as if he could truthfully care less.
"What if... what if-" I continue, trying desperately to form all of my thoughts and fears into words, but it isn't the butterflies that keep me from expressing them this time. It is the wild stampede that is kicking up so much dust in my mind that I'm starting to question how ready I truly am to officially be a mother in two short months. This single fact rests so harshly on my shoulders that I find myself practically shouting, "God, we don't even have a name yet!"
"And that's okay!" Harry blurts sternly but calmly, voice bleeding with a form of reassurance that almost takes a foot hold within me, but alas, my demons that run wild on old self-deprecations rearing their head from the past win out as victorious. He goes back to quietly shushing me, hand running through my hair in any attempt to ease me as he repeats himself, "That's okay, Georgia Rose. We still have time to figure all that out, I promise."
All I can do is simply nod my head against him, bottom lip still quivering slightly and only getting worse when I think I feel Harry pulling away from me. My eyes frantically follow him as he truly does break away, my worst fears in this moment coming to life quicker than they could even form in my brain. At the loss of contact, my mouth opens and closes like a fish as I stare at him through shocked blurry vision. A sudden chill races down my spine at the emptiness his absence leaves me with, chill bumps erupting across my skin despite the warm air blasting in through the balcony doors.
"Harry," I whine in disbelief, hands struggling to keep contact with him until the very minute I no longer can because of his distance. They fall limply at my sides, my face screwing up when he looks at me unphased.
Motioning at me with his curly head as if he wants me to follow him, my eyes can't help but narrow along with the slight furrowing of my brows. After everything that I just confessed to him, I find it odd that he is acting so strangely with a light smile curving up his lips that are the prefecture mixture between a flushed ferocious pink and swollen to the point where they are lined with pale red skin.
He is quick to notice my confusion and halts his movements.
"C'mon, I wanna show you something," he says much to my surprise.
"Harry, I really don't want-"
"Just come on," he intones impatiently before walking backwards, idiotically shimmying his shoulders, smirk ever-present as he tries to bring a similar expression to my own face. However as he disappears through the balcony doors, translucent white currents still blowing serenely in the new state of calm that has resided over the air in the room, all I can seem to do is scoff before the ghost of a grin manages to grace my somber face.
Before I know it, the absence of Harry's signature sweet musk from my nose pushes me to pick up my shoeless feet to follow the path he has laid out for me. Granted, it is a short one, so the suspense doesn't last long, but when I find myself standing perfectly in the middle of the sandy floor that will lead me out onto the balcony, I can't help but freeze at the beautiful scene laid out before me.
The entire balcony, lightly decaying wooden floorboards and all are normally a neon aquamarine during the day, but the way the setting sun that has now passed the horizon line above the undisturbed ocean waves illuminates the sky, the cool toned colors of the sky mix with the perfect amount of warmth to transform the typically obnoxious blue into one that is pleasing to the eye, much like the very blazer that Harry wears.
I walk forward slowly, emerging into the July air that has cooled drastically thanks to the sun saying its final goodbye for the day, the moon rising to take its place like they have been trained to do since the beginning of time. A sky that is a painters dream fades from a deep lilac with a few bright stars twinkling against it down to a cotton candy pink that intermingles with pastel yellow before ultimately fading into a robin's egg blue that sinks below the horizon along with its master, the sun.
All of these colors reflect against the glass doors of the beach cottage, doing the same to the neighboring houses that line the beach next to us, two on each side of us reserved to our fellow guests: Liam and Maya, Niall and Ashe, Zayn and Gigi, and lastly a solo Louis Tomlinson.
Spinning around slowly to take in the dream around me, I find myself unable to close my mouth, the taste of summer coating my tongue thanks to the harsh beach winds that are finally calming as the nighttime arrives, bringing with it a region of starlight and moonbeams.
Once I complete my full body turn, the world slightly spinning in a whirlwind of colors and salty waves of my own hair blowing into my face, my beacon of hope finds me, standing totally calm in the dead center of it all.
His face is set in stone, yet his high cheekbones and sharp angular jaw remain soft, green eyes that appear brighter against the background lazily blinking as he leans against the railing of the balcony and awaits me to come closer.
The light smile that still resides on his lips is not hard to miss, but what I find the most interesting is how he attempts to discreetly let a breath pass through them.
Through all the haughty air, I can sense a strong nervousness that doesn't belong to me, and considering this is a private beach where the other couples we traveled here with are all patiently, or not so patiently in Niall and Louis' cases, waiting for us to show up to dinner, the anxiety in the air must be coming from my green eyed boy.
"Don't get me wrong Bunny," I start as I hesitantly make my way towards him, "but isn't this the part where you console me and try to make me feel better?"
Smacking his lips together that rival the color of the hot pink sky near the ocean and white sand dunes below, his eyes roll lazily as he shakes his head at me, curls blowing lightly across his forehead. "If you would come here, you would see that is exactly what I am trying to do."
"But why did we need to come out here for you to do that? Did you think the pretty scenery would make me forget easier or something, because I had enough pretty scenery in there with just you standing in front of me," I motion behind me towards the inside of the beach house with my thumb, biting my lip to suppress a smile at my own humor.
Harry simply narrows his eyes and laughs sarcastically.
"Why can't you ever just follow directions without questioning them?" His deep voice purrs, hands sliding off the white wooden railing that they were stretched out and resting on before now swinging slightly at his sides, legs carrying him towards me like a lion after its prey.
"Because I'm stubborn, and I hate being told what to do," I state with a shrug, a slight yelp passing my lips when he gets close enough, scent overtaking me again, and hands reaching out blindingly fast to land on the small of my back. Harry pulls me in, keeping me close by his hold at the bottom of my spine, and angling our bodies so that to my left is the entrance to the beach house, and to my right is the glorious beach with all of its colors that are quickly fading to navy.
I can't help but smile up at my green eyed boy, those very green eyes that I adore staring right back at me, dimples that I love even more appearing within the silky tan skin of his cheeks. His pink lips glisten thanks to how his tongue darts out to wet them, bunny teeth sinking down into the plush pink vicinity shortly after. Like always, I find myself entranced, another thought reaching me that if I were to just kiss him again, I would be successful in banishing all of my woes... at least for tonight, but then I remember that the younger, less experienced Belle would handle things that way.
She did handle things that way, and I am not that girl anymore.
"Belle Olivia Granger," Harry breathes, suddenly breaking the moment of silence we found ourselves drifting in, happily allowing the waves to play as natural background music behind us.
"Harry Edward Styles," I giggle lightly, mocking his use of my full name, however my laughter instantly ceases, smile fading a little at how serious he seems to be all of a sudden.
He takes in a deep breath that shakes his body along with my clasped fingers that reside behind him in a similar fashion to where his hands hold on to the small of my back. Closing his eyes momentarily, he appears to be shaking the nerves off his broad shoulders, but I know from experience how hard that can be, so I simply begin rubbing his back to calm him in the same way he has always tried to do for me.
"From the very first moment I laid eyes on you, I thought you were a figment of my imagination, because I never thought a human being, for all of our evils and flaws, could look as stunning as you. You were wearing white that night, so you stood out against the darkness of not only the physical world, but you stood out like an angel- an angel of hope within the darkness I was unknowingly getting myself into.
"The first thing I noticed were your eyes, but you already know that. I've never kept it a secret how much I love looking into the pure gold of your eyes and never being able to remember anything other than your name, Georgia Rose. I wanted to kiss you so bad that first night, because I knew for certain that I had never tasted real cherries until the moment I would get to kiss you, but a part of me always knew that by doing so much as that, I would taint you- I would taint the first real angel, the first real proof that everything I learned in church as a boy was true. I would taint this beautiful, golden angel from the heavens above with my arrogance and self-importance."
I swear for the entirety of Harry's speech, I'm not breathing. I have to remind myself to take in a breath only when I feel him take in one himself, but that is my only reminder thanks to how caught up I am in the unbelievable things I am hearing tumble from his lips, voice smoother than the softest of furs and thicker than a tube of the most natural honey.
There isn't a single sign of shakiness in the way he speaks, all of the trembles I feel coming from me and how blissfully overwhelmed I am starting to feel, yet I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything, because it serves as reminder than I can feel.
"I'm no angel," I assure him with a small laugh, but he's quick to shake his head, rubbing his lips together until they pout out again.
"But you are, Belle. You are my only angel, because ever since that night, I see you everywhere I go. Hell, I don't just see you. I hear your voice, and I feel your touch. I can see your adventurous heart in the butterflies that fly past my window, I feel your eyes gazing upon me in the rays of the sun, I- I see every beautiful facet of you in the rose bushes, and I can hear your laugh every time Freddie Mercury's voice reaches my ears.
"I feel your touch and have longed for it desperately every time I have spent a night alone, and-" Suddenly Harry removes his hand that is inked with a crucifix from my back and uses it to grab my own frail hand, ultimately placing it against his naval right where the faint dark lines of his butterfly tattoo peek through the white fabric of his shirt. Using his strong hold to keep my hand there, I can feel how rapidly he is breathing and easily relate thanks to the fact that I am struggling in the same way. "- you are the cause of every one of my new beginnings.
"Belle, you have saved me on more occasions than one, many of those being times when I didn't deserve your grace and kind heart, so I don't want to hear it about how you think our daughter would never find something about you to admire, because I have been admiring you since I was seventeen.
"I have admired your sarcasm and impeccable humor. I have admired how you always seem to be able to tell the difference between someone who deserves your forgiveness and who doesn't, and I have always admired how fearless you are. I swear you aren't afraid of a single thing, even when the world was knocking down your door, you stayed strong and bit back twice as hard where I know I would have crumbled.
"You have always been so unapologetically yourself, and that is something I have always wished I could be. When I first met you saw, I saw a fifteen year old girl who was wiser than most adults I knew at the time, and it kills me that you didn't then, and even now, still don't see all the power you hold within yourself. You are so much stronger than all of the shit you've been through, always managing to come out even more powerful as a result," he states, eyes glossing over.
Harry suddenly lets his gaze fall from mine for the first time since he started his brutal assault on my heart, shoulders shaking as he laughs lightly. When he looks back up, I can't help but admire how despite the incoming dusk, his eyes still appear as green as if the biggest star in our universe was still out and shining directly into them.
Gold flakes swirl amongst the blue and green earths that I pray every night I will wake up again to orbit.
"I know this is cheesy, but I mean it with all of my being, Georgia Rose, that loving you has been my antidote. You are my absolute everything, and I can't fathom a world where I have to live without you in it. I've already had to suffer that Hell on Earth before, and it was the most torturous thing to wake up knowing that you were somewhere living your life, and I couldn't be part of it. That is something I never want to go through again, so-"
Without warning, my eyes bulge, hands flying to cover my mouth in shock at the sight of Harry Edward Styles, member of the biggest boyband on the planet, classic rockstar trapped in a modern world, Bunny, my green eyed boy sinking down to one knee. My body sways at the sight, and before I know it, wetness coats my hands that I soon realize is coming from my eyes.
"- Belle Olivia Granger, I feel like there is no other way for me to explain how much I love you other than this. I want to commit myself to you in a way that I have never once thought about committing to anyone else, because I have loved you more than I ever thought was possible to love someone. I have loved you since I was a seventeen year old little boy, and to this day, I know for a fact that despite my immaturity, I made the wisest choice I've ever made then, and that was deciding to give my heart to you."
Through my tears and despite my incessant gasping, I watch as he pulls a small velvet box from the pocket of his plaid pants, and I feel like passing out at the mere sight. My limbs are so numb that I can barely feel them, and I'm certain that the world is now made of an iridescent prism thanks to not only the blaring colors that surround me within the sky but in the way my tears blur it all. However, the one constant that keeps me grounded, that keeps me from backing away or falling over, that keeps me sane and always has is Harry.
He holds the box that appeared so large when pulled from his pocket that I wonder how I didn't notice it earlier, but now as it rests in the palm of his hand, it looks so small compared to the size of the very things that hold me when I'm so happy I could run laps around an entire city or so angry that I could scream at the top of my lungs for hours and not feel an ounce of pain.
Harry takes one final breath before he slowly opens the box, revealing the most magnificent piece of jewelry I think I have ever seen.
The band is rose gold and spirals with leaves of all different shapes and sizes, each one delicately engraved with indentions and lines that add a subtle hint of realism, but the real eye-catcher is the stone in the center. It is stark white yet shines with every shade the rainbow has to offer when the light glints off of the jagged stone.
It is anything but conventional which is perfect for Harry and I.
"A rose for my Georgia Rose," Harry says hopefully, his voice being the one thing that can pull my attention away from anything, even something as beautiful as the ring he holds before me.
"Belle Granger, will you marry me?"
I feel like I've just been sucker punched in the stomach, my clasped hands that reside over my mouth suctioning to the skin at the intense breath I take in to quell the wobbling of my knees and ease the breathless feeling I feel.
Harry stares up at me so hopefully, tears beaming in his eyes that shine just as iridescently as the engagement ring he holds out before me. I don't miss how his hands shake, but I find it incredibly hard to do anything about it thanks to how badly my body is dealing with its own miniature earthquake.
My head shakes slightly, hands loosening their hold over my lips that open and close beneath the extremities thanks to my lack of words.
I know exactly what I want to say, but the shock is rendering me completely immobile, all words finding themselves stuck in my throat- stuck amongst the disbelief that I am standing here right now with my green eyed boy on one knee.
"Have I finally done it? Have I finally rendered the Belle Granger speechless?" Harry questions, voice full of sarcasm that jolts me out of my stupor, his dimples and my favorite lopsided smirk that I will never truly admit to liking making their presence known on his face.
"Harry, I..." I manage to choke out, tears still pouring down my cheeks in astonishment. Finally shrugging with a scoff that turns into a joyous laugh, I bend down to cup his cheeks, resting my forehead against his and smiling down at him as I happily beam, "Yes. Yes you have. You have finally rendered the future Belle Styles completely, hopelessly, and utterly speechless."
"About damn time," my green eyed boy giggles before we simultaneously smash our lips together. I pull Harry up to his feet and revel in how perfectly his lips mold with mine, the fever of the moment taking us both by storm and thrusting us together.
We each try to pull the other one closer but quickly realize that it is a game we will both fail at, so instead we separate, already breathing heavy despite how short-lived our kiss was, but seeing as Harry and I are both still recovering from how hard we found it to breathe while he was pouring his heart out to me, our lack of air doesn't come as a surprise.
"So that's a yes, I assume?" He asks with a raspy chuckle, smile beaming so bright that it blinds me, but I willingly stare into it.
I don't even have to think before I'm feverishly nodding my head and pulling away from him, extending my left hand, watching through wide glossy eyes as he pulls the ring from the box and prepares to slide it on my ring finger, only hesitating thanks to my lack of an answer even though I think it is pretty clear.
"Yes! A million times, yes!"
All too excitedly, Harry slides the ring on my finger, the band cool to the touch at first before immediately warming up in its new home on my hand- in its permanent home. The rose engagement ring is a perfect fit, matching perfectly with the pinky ring that will forever reside next to it.
I hold my hand out and admire the beauty for a moment before deciding to turn my gaze to what I always have and always will consider the most outrageously gorgeous thing in my life, and that is Harry Styles.
Harry Styles who was my best friend.
Harry Styles who was my boyfriend.
Harry Styles who is my fiancé.
Harry Styles who will always be the love of my life.
"Louis is gonna be so pissed. I promised him I'd wait and ask during dinner."
I think of you every way, yesterday and today.
I think of nothing but you, things we do, things we do.