*** TRIGGER WARNING:
This chapter contains some pretty dark themes, mentions/insinuations of suicide and death.
There is a summary of the chapter at the end if you would like to skip it.
Please only read if you are in the right headspace and please, PLEASE remember to take care of yourself and put yourself first. <3 You are worth the entire world and deserve everything good! Remember that I am always a message away if you want to talk.
***
Chapter 54
Space.
That was always it, right?
I always internalized how alone or how isolated from the world I felt, yet when it actually finally seemed like I had someone there who made me feel less alone and less like I was taking everything on by myself, I fled. Because that was how I'd always dealt with things.
So now, here I was – doing exactly that. Choosing to flee from both Harry and Isaac rather than talk to either of them about what had happened or conclude how to possibly work past it, because I was scared more of that conversation than what could happen if I just acted like none of it ever occurred in the first place.
Unfortunately, I didn't know exactly where I was going upon stepping out of my apartment, because usually, that was where I went to wallow and feel bad for myself. In this instance, I couldn't exactly do that since I had left behind there the very person that I was trying to currently distance myself from.
Leaving Harry alone in my apartment? Why couldn't I have just told him to leave?
The tears that I had so long bottled within me were now running down my cheeks at an uncontrollable pace. I shivered in my jacket, wrapping it tighter around me, as I dug my hand deep into my pocket to retrieve the familiar box that I had sworn last week I was going to throw away.
I guess it was good that I hadn't, because my hand shook both with unrestrained emotion and the need for a familiar calm as I tucked a cigarette between my teeth and patted my jeans to find my lighter. Upon bringing it up to my lips, my heart gave an involuntary lurch as I caught sight of Harry's ring on my thumb.
"Christ," I muttered, swallowing another sob and choking out a puff of smoke. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to acclimate myself to the nicotine headrush mingling with the rest of the alcohol still running rampant through me.
This town. This stupid, big, expansive town that I had dreamed of moving to when I went away to school suddenly seemed much too large as I trekked my way through it. I suddenly felt all too small and too inexperienced to be here all, like I was one person in this gaping land of people that all had their own problems and people to worry about.
It felt stupid. Stupid of me to be crying and chain-smoking while I made my way blocks and blocks away from my apartment, trying to console myself only with the knowledge that it won't last. That this feeling – this hole in my chest, the fear of the unknown of what will come next, won't last.
Trying not to think about the ring my finger adorned or who it belonged to, how that person now knew the deepest, most terrible parts of me that I wasn't sure anyone had yet been able to fully come to terms with. That I was almost positive he wouldn't be able to come to terms with. That my friends definitely hadn't. The friends that still treaded lightly around me, careful not to speak too loudly when I was upset or distanced themselves whenever I closed off because they weren't quite sure how to deal with whatever would come next.
When I finally turned into the parking lot that I had decided only minutes before was my anticipated destination on this little escapade, I had already finished three cigarettes. As much as I wanted to hate myself for it, as much as that little voice at the back of my head nagged that it wasn't good for me, I felt better. It had been nearly 20 minutes of interrupted breathing, of allowing me to focus on something other than the thoughts in my head.
It had also been the determining factor in whether or not this anticipated destination of mine would prove to me therapeutic or send me spiralling into a full-on break down.
I hoped it would be the former.
I hoped, as hugged myself tightly and walked through the dark parking lot toward the expanse of trees in front of me, toward the path that I hadn't stopped thinking about since the night that I had first been brought here, that this was the right choice.
Because in a matter of minutes, with only some minor cursing due to the fallen logs and my drunken state, I was in the very spot that Harry had brought me on our first date.
Sorry, the first time we had hung out as friends.
I think I had known even then though that it had been something more. And as I stood there, staring at the city below – the twinkling lights, the glowing rush of people, the blinding illumination of the night sky – I realized that, whether it had been a date or not, no one had ever brought me to a place so beautiful. No one had ever allowed me to bear witness to such an incredible part of the world with them.
"I told you, Killer," Harry murmured into my ear, moving around until he was directly behind me. He spoke right beside my head, his breath fanning over my ear. I shivered. "It's a surprise..."
I felt his other hand reach up and grab my forearm, guiding me forward. On hesitant feet, I started to walk ahead. Harry was supporting me from behind. I felt myself wanting to lean into him, but I resisted that urge.
Though, even with our slight distance, I was sure he could hear the hammering of my heart in my chest. I was nervous, I didn't know what to expect.
Branches cracked underneath my feet as I stepped. After a couple of strides, the ground began to level out and I felt the absence of the trees in the breezy, open air that swallowed the two of us up.
"'M nervous," Harry mumbled into my ear.
"You're nervous?" I scoffed. "I'm the one standing in the middle of a forest, no idea where I am, and have some strange man covering my eyes. What could you possibly be nervous about?"
I could feel Harry's body shake as he laughed. "I'm just nervous you won't like it,"
Harry's hand was surprisingly warm against my eyes despite the fact that it was slightly chilly out. He had stopped us, and we were both standing, breathing heavily, in the middle of a fucking forest.
"Like what?" I breathed.
"My favourite place," Harry said and removed his hand.
"Hello Miss. Moon," I murmured, taking a seat on the ground. I stared up at the sky, at the moon, a beautiful picture of elegant radiance. She was glowing brightly enough that I was barely even aware of the cold, hard dirt beneath me currently soaking through the fabric of my jeans. "How've you been?"
Leaning back, I braced my weight on my hands and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry it's been a while since I spoke to you. I know that we used to talk all the time," I dragged a finger through the grass, lulling my head to the side. "It's just that recently I've found someone new to talk to. Who wants to listen to me just as much as you do."
"Can you imagine that?" I whispered, holding my hand out. Harry's rose ring caught in the moonlight, glinting slightly. I swallowed, tilting my head up further to the sky.
"Hi, mum," I continued, pulling my knees up to my chest. "I hope you're doing well, too. I miss you. I hope you're enjoying your time alongside the moon."
The stars twinkled back at me as I spoke, illuminating the clearing around me.
"I wish you were here," my voice cracked as I spoke, and I buried my head in my arms. "I wish you could tell me that I'm going to be okay..." I took a few sobering blinks at the sky before adding, "I wish you could meet Harry."
The world seemed to tilt a bit. Everything suddenly felt much more vibrant, much more heavy.
"I know you told me not to depend on others for my happiness and that it's something I should find within myself but... but I've just been having a lot of trouble doing that since you left. I've just felt so alone. I felt like all the happiness in the world had gone," I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. "I tried. For so long, I tried to be happy on my own. I was convinced that it wasn't possible, and it just hurt so badly... so fucking badly. I wanted it to just end. I even got to a point where I was fine if I never knew true happiness again as long as I just felt better, you know?"
The wind whistled around me, blowing my hair in waves. I rested my chin on my knees, shivering.
"It was only lately that I realized I had been so caught up in trying not to let other people be the only source of my happiness, I had forgotten that that didn't mean I couldn't be happy around them. I pushed so many people in my life away. I made so many people in my life hate me just because I had been so resistant against letting people ever get close to me, letting them ever make me happy in case they left or died..."
"He's brought back that part of me, mum," I continued in a small voice, "He's made me realize that it's okay to be happy. It's okay to prioritize myself every once and a while."
And I left.
I left him there knowing that, deep down, a small part of me wouldn't be surprised to wind up back in an empty apartment. That a small part of me still expected it to happen – expected him to leave because who would want to deal with me after knowing just how bad my struggle had been?
That was what people always did, they left. Or so I had thought.
I knew what my mom would be saying to me. It bounced around in my head as I stood up, brushing the dirt from my pants and heaving a sigh as I spun on my heel back toward the parking lot. It continued to play on repeat as I trekked my way back through the city toward my apartment once more, leaving the twinkling lights behind me.
"First of all," she'd say. "Get rid of those damn cigarettes. They'll rot your teeth and your insides more than that caffeine addiction of yours does."
I tossed my half-empty carton into the first trash can I saw.
"Second of all," she'd continue, her voice soft and sweet like honey as she took a seat at my side. She'd run a hand through my hair, pulling me against her chest. "I love you, sunshine. Thank you for telling me this. You're brave for sharing with me the things going on in your head that you're frightened of. I'm proud of you."
I'd probably roll my eyes –
"Don't roll your eyes. I'm being serious. Sometimes just talking about your demons is just as bad as trying to face them, because that's when they actually become a reality."
And she'd be right. She was always right.
"I know I am," she'd smile. "Because I am your mother. I know you better than you know yourself. I grew you for nine months. And though as much as I love you, as much as I am proud of you... I'm the wrong person to be telling this to."
Once again, she would be right.
Whether my mom was alive or not, it would be no use in telling her all of this. Not when it was Harry that I should be having this conversation with. Harry, who had shown me that communication is the foundation of any relationship – that there wasn't a chance at ever making anything in your life work if you weren't willing to open up and talk about it.
It was with him in mind that I arrived back at my apartment, knowing full well that I shouldn't have left in the first place. Definitely not on the terms that I had walked out on.
The place was dark when I first walked in. There wasn't a sign that anyone had come in while I was out, and the hallway lights were off... had they been off when I left or did someone shut them off on their way out? I flicked them on.
For a split second, my heart dropped. There was nothing. No one. Harry was gone. Both the kitchen and the living room were deserted. I quickly patted my jacket pockets, only to realize that my phone wasn't on me and I must have left it here.
Swallowing, I sullenly made my way to the bedroom.
This was fine. Truly. It was alright that he had left. I hadn't outright asked him to stay, nor had I brought my phone to rebuff any of his messages asking me to come back anyhow. Any sensible person would have left. It wasn't even his place. I can't rightly hold something against someone when I very well might have done the same thing in their position –
"May?"
He was there. Eyes bloodshot and hair out of sorts, Harry was sitting on the edge of my bed when I walked in. His head was frozen, a few inches up from the outstretched hands he had rested on his knees where it had obviously been buried in only a few moments prior. It took him all of two seconds to cross the room over to where I was standing.
"You're still here," I whispered.
"Oh, thank God," his knees just about buckled as he blurted the words. He braced his hands on either of my shoulders, looking me up and down as if to make sure that I was alright and that I was actually stood in front of him. "Of course, I'm here. I'm – fuck, Jesus. I was so worried. I tried to call you like a million times only to realize your phone was here. I didn't know what to do or where you went, I know you needed space but I just... I didn't know where you would go."
My heart ached.
It was cruel to leave him. Selfish.
Yes, I was still mad about how he handled things with Isaac, but I shouldn't have just walked out when his emotions were obviously running at a worryingly high level.
It took me a few moments of silent contemplation to drag my eyes up to his face and realize that he was staring at me. His gaze was locked on mine, anxious and obviously waiting for me to speak – to tell him that it wasn't going to work, that I was leaving again.
"I'm sorry," was what I said instead. "I shouldn't have left."
Harry pulled me against his heaving chest, the warmth of his body completely engulfing me.
"I'm sorry," I repeated, wrapping my arms around him, and feeling those same tears well up. "I'm so sorry."
"Stop," he cooed. "It's okay. I just wanted to know that you're okay."
His voice was muffled as he spoke into the crook of my neck. When he pulled back, I struggled to stay looking at him when I realized that he was crying too. Again. This was twice tonight that I had made him cry.
"I didn't mean to walk out," I mumbled, shaking my head. "I just... I didn't know what to say, so I left. But you didn't deserve that. You deserve me here, telling you and communicating with you that every thought in my head just felt so jumbled and clouded. I didn't want you to hate me–"
Harry's expression was anguished as he interrupted, "Why would I hate you?"
I stared at him, trying to get a read on his expression, before glancing away with a shrug. "Because you found out about... me trying to..."
He let out a pained breath, taking my face in his hands. "May, I would never. Why would I ever hate you for that? Or think any differently about who you are?"
"I don't know–" my voice cracked again.
I pulled away from him, struggling to take a breath.
In my head, all I could hear were voices. The voices of the people I loved, asking questions over and over. The confusion, the pain, the sheer grief in their tone –
"I don't... I don't understand what I could have done differently. Do you hate me? Is that it? I know I'm not your mom, May, but I'm trying my best as your dad. Why would you want to resort to this to get away from me?"
"I'm your sister. I don't know why you didn't tell me if you were in pain. I just... I don't know how to handle this. Why didn't you let me help you?"
"May, I'm your best friend. Your best friend. Why didn't you talk to me? What can I do? Please, what can I do differently?"
It was always different after. The way they acknowledged me, the unspoken emotions that overtook their expressions whenever I walked into a room. The hushed whispers, the conversations behind my back.
Always asking what they could do differently. Always asking what wasn't good enough on their end or how to change so that I didn't make that same choice again.
And every time, another part of me was chipped away.
It was exactly the opposite reason of why I had done it. Because it was an internal battle with myself that I knew I couldn't win, not something that they had done. Because I had seen how happy they were and didn't want to be that burden anymore that stood in the way of that.
So, it broke me, even more, to realize that they all thought it was their fault. To realize that they had taken it upon themselves to try and change the internal part of me that could only ever be tampered with on my own. It was an endless, vicious battle that they were destined to lose from the start.
Especially when I shut down afterwards. Refused to talk. Refused to ever let any of this deep, dark pit of darkness within me ever seep out and latch on to the people in my life that I loved. If I couldn't physically get out of being their burden, I sure as hell was going to do everything that I could to prevent being the emotional one.
"Don't push me away," Harry suddenly murmured, reaching toward me. I retreated, nearly tripping over my own feet to step away from him. "Please, May."
"I'm not... I just..."
Can't be the source of someone else's pain. Not again.
My breathing had gone ragged. I reached up to run my hands over my face and gripped at my neck, feeling my pulse quickening beneath my fingers – feeling my skin warm with that familiar, rising panic.
"I'm not pushing you away," I tried to defend in a strained voice. "I'm just... giving you the opportunity to leave if you want to. Telling you that you aren't obligated to stay."
"Let me be here for you, May," Harry said softly, eyeing my face with caution, my words very evidently ignored.
I wracked my brain, trying to remember why I had come back. Trying to remember why I had returned in the first place – why I had ever thought this was a good idea to let someone else in. It was wrong, I should go. I need to figure this out on my own.
"Let me be here you for, May," Harry repeated tentatively, reaching out to grab my wrist. My chest was heaving, my inner self was screaming to move away, but I didn't. I let him grab me. Tried my hardest not to flinch away.
I came back for a reason, I came back for a reason, I came back for a reason.
"Please. Let me be that person for you." Harry's voice sounded distant as he spoke, but it tunnelled its way down inside of me, cracking and shattering some inner wall.
He took both of my wrists away from my neck, letting them fall at my sides, before reaching up to cup my face. His thumb brushed at my cheeks, effectively wiping away the tears that just wouldn't stop falling. They only came out harder when he leaned down, placing a soft kiss under each of my eyes. And then on top of each of my brows, trailing down to my nose, my chin, my jaw and finally resting on my mouth.
The intimacy, the sheer affection behind the gesture, wracked my body with another series of sobs. No one had ever done this for me. No one had ever been there for me like this. Despite everything yelling at me not do, I wrapped my arms around his waist and dropped my head to his chest.
He murmured a string of coos, praises and reassurances in my ears. His hand stroked my hair, as he placed kiss after delicate kiss on the top of my head.
"I'm here for you."
His words caused me to nuzzle harder against his chest, rebuffing any and every inner notion that I should pull away or flee.
I'm here for you.
"Thank you," I pulled him closer to me, if at all possible. "Thank you."
We remained like that for a bit. The two of us, embracing and living in the same moment, until Harry finally pulled back to look at me. To study my face and evidently try to determine what our next course of action was, considering it wasn't realistic to believe that we could just live in this little bubble of harmonious solitude forever, however much I would have liked to.
It was destined to pop.
"I'll apologize to Isaac."
I swallowed, wiping underneath my eyes, and nodded. I'd almost forgotten.
"You aren't entirely the one at fault," I said quietly, "I need to... I need to talk to him, too."
Harry's eyes remained on my face.
"It's been really hard for me to come to terms with a lot of things in my life," I said after a few moments of silence. I looked away from him, but he caught my chin with his finger and pulled my gaze back up to his. "And I just want you to know that I'm doing a lot better now. My mental health suffered for a while – for a long time actually, but that isn't who I am anymore."
"May," Harry sucked in a small breath. "We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to–"
"I want to," I said quickly, "I mean... obviously not exactly about what happened, but I would have told you sooner or later and I just want you to know that I'm not at risk or anything and I won't–"
"Hey," he interrupted in a soft voice, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "You don't have to try and convince me of anything if that's what you're trying to do. You telling me this changes nothing about how I feel and I want you to know that I'm not going to think any differently of you, no matter how hard you seem to be convincing yourself that I will."
Those same, stupid hot tears pooled once more in the corners of my eyes. I tilted my head toward the ceiling and blew out a breath, trying to get rid of them.
"Thank you," I repeated for probably the hundredth time. "Really... thank you. I want you to know that these past couple of months have let me see that there really are happy things about life that I wouldn't even have thought to look for. You've opened up an entire part of me that I thought would stay locked away forever."
Harry was silent for a moment, passing his eyes over my face, his irises sparkling in the dim lighting of the room. He splayed his hand out from where it was rested behind my ear to cup my cheek before lowering his head down to brush his lips against mine, using his other hand to grab my waist and press me against his chest.
He pulled back until we were inches apart, muttering into my mouth, "Thank you. You've shown me an entire part of life that I didn't know existed either. I'm very grateful for you, Mayflower."
"Sap," I muttered with a small laugh and shoved his shoulder. Harry caught my hand, still staring at me as I added, "You want me to cry, don't you, idiot?"
"Stop," he whispered, eyes never leaving my face. His finger was tracing the skin on the inner part of my wrist. "Don't do that."
I furrowed my brows. "Do what?"
"Deflect with humour."
I winced. "I'm not–"
This time, Harry broke out into a sad grin as lowered his forehead down to rest on mine. "You are."
Rolling my eyes, I blew out a sharp breath through my nose. "Fine... I'm grateful for you, too. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Harry's grin widened. "Exactly that, Killer."
His smile caught me off guard. That same ache in my chest ebbed its way out of hiding. Of all days for this to happen, it happened on –
"Oh my god!" I suddenly cried and gripped Harry's wrist, pulling it into my line of sight, trying to see if he was wearing a watch. I dropped it when I realized he wasn't and then promptly started to shove my hands in his pockets.
He held up his hands, sputtering out a nervous laugh as he watched me. "What's going on? Should I be concerned?"
"What time is it?!" I asked quickly, moving to his back pockets. "Christ's sake – where is your bloody phone?"
Harry laughed again, catching me by the wrist and turned us both toward the bed where he picked up not one but two phones from on top of the comforter. Mine and his.
"As much as I like your hands all in my pockets," he teased, placing them in my outstretched palms. "Here."
"1:22 a.m.," I marvelled at the screen and looked up at him with another large smile. "Harry! It's your birthday!"
Quickly reaching up to wipe at my damp cheeks, I followed suit in running my hands under his eyes, trying to push away the thought that I had done this – I had caused this pain and these tears. I took his face in my hands and pulled him toward me for kiss.
"Happy–"
Kiss.
"Birthday–"
Kiss.
"You–"
Kiss.
"Beautiful–"
Kiss.
"Man."
He was flushed when I finally pulled back. When I went to remove my hands from his face, he caught my wrists, pulling me in for a final kiss. Then I was dazed when he pulled back. Only moments ago, the two of us had been crying, hugging and holding onto each other for dear life and now we were here.
"Thank you," he said softly, grinning wide enough that I was sure I could camp out in his dimple if he'd let me.
"Sorry your party didn't exactly turn out the way that you wanted..."
"I didn't even want a party to begin with," he softly laughed, tracing his thumb over my cheek. "And I actually ended up having a lot of fun until..."
He trailed off. I cut in before either of us had the chance to dwell on his words.
"I have something for you," I said excitedly, grateful for the distraction and breaking apart from him to rush over to my closet.
He raised a brow. "I thought I told you not to get me anything."
"I thought I told you that I already did," I chided back with a smile, pulling the small bag out of its hiding spot. "Plus, they're small things anyway."
"They're?"
I placed the bag in his outstretched hands. On it was a picture of a bunch of cats with party hats, each holding a letter to spell "H-a-p-p-y B-i-r-t-h-d-a-y!". He grinned at the image, trailing his thumb idly over the bow on top.
"Just open it."
He grabbed my elbow with a small shake of his head, pulling me toward the bed to sit beside him.
"It's actually really small," I said quickly, running my hands over my legs, "I bought it kind of in a blind rage after finding out that you hid your birthday from me–"
Harry angled his head to look at me, smiling. "You never told me about this blind rage."
"Anyway," I rolled my eyes, urging him to open it with an impatient gesture of my hand. "I wasn't sure if I was going to say fuck it and just give it to you even though you obviously wanted to keep your birthday hidden from me or whether I would chicken out and it would just sit in my closet for years until I cleaned it out."
"Well, I'm glad you decided to give it to me," he was still grinning, his hands paused as he looked at me.
"I'm gonna take it back if you don't–"
"Okay, I'm going!" He laughed, holding up his non-occupied hand in feigned defeat.
There was a brief moment of silence as he opened the gift and beheld the items inside. A silence so utterly maddening and suspenseful that I almost had the urge to rip the bag right from his hands. I bit my lip as he held the first of three things in his palm.
Yellow nail polish.
"I know you probably – actually, I know you definitely already have this but–" I reached forward to tip the bottle onto its side, revealing the title. "It's called 'Mellow Yellow Sunshine'. I don't know if you remember," I swallowed, wringing my hands together, feeling very much like an idiot. "But when I saw you at the bar that one day, I noticed that your nails were painted yellow. You said that it was your favourite colour. And I said that it was very fitting because–"
"Yellow is my colour." He finished softly with a grin, closing his fingers around the bottle and turning to look at me. "Of course, I remember. I said your colour pale pink, like a carnation flower. Mayflower."
"A carnation flower," I mumbled in response with a grin, staring down at my chest, acting like my heart wasn't currently beating into overdrive.
"I painted my nails pink the next time I saw you. When you toured Everett."
I laughed, looking up at him. "Yeah, I remember that, too. I was so annoyed and flustered cause you had just kissed me right after we had been yelling at each other and all I could think about was your stupid fuckin' pink nails."
"Glad to know my kissing was that awful that you couldn't stop thinking about my hands afterwards."
"That isn't what I meant–" I rambled, swallowing and shaking my head. "I just meant–"
Harry cut me off abruptly, leaning in to press his lips against mine, effectively silencing me other than a small hum that escaped the back of my throat, my throat still raw from crying. I threaded my fingers through his hair right as he pulled back. He grinned, his mouth a mere inch from mine, as he whispered, "I know what you meant."
Harry was still smiling as he leaned all the way back and pulled out the next item. It looked very small in his large hand.
"It's a keychain."
"A sun and a moon," he grinned, twirling it around.
"Because I said I compare you to the sun and you told me that you compare me to the moon," I muttered to my hands.
"I love it. I love them both." Harry breathed, immediately pulling a set of keys out of God knows where and attaching it to the ring. I must have missed those earlier when my hands were searching through his pockets.
"There's one more thing!" I said suddenly, pointing toward the bag.
Harry peered into the opening before his face broke out in another grin. He was laughing as he pulled the item out of the bag.
A toothbrush.
"So, you can stop fucking using mine," I said with a laugh of my own, "You can, uh, leave it here if you want."
Harry caught my mouth in another sudden kiss. He grabbed a hold of my jaw, bracing his other hand on the bed beside me as he murmured, "My spit grosses you out that much, does it?"
I rolled my eyes. "Idiot."
"Thank you, May. Seriously. No one has ever bought a gift this thoughtful for me."
"Don't worry about it," I shrugged, watching him carefully place the nail polish on the nightstand beside us.
"I will worry about it," Harry said, placing the bag at his feet. "I really appreciate this. I'm gonna have to one up you somehow on your birthday – which, by the way, when is that?"
"Maybe I should hide it from you." I replied with a teasing grin, "See if my sister is the one who calls you and spills the beans."
Harry raised his brows, mouth falling open slightly with a chuckle. "You wouldn't dare."
"It's only fair–"
"Mm," Harry angled his head to the side, looking over my face. "So you wanna play games?"
"I would call it getting even," I said a bit breathlessly, feeling the atmosphere in the room shift.
"Let me apologize then," Harry said lowly. His lips found mine with a sudden possessive urge that caught me off guard, had me bracing a hand on the comforter beneath me to remain steady. His eyes were dark when he pulled away. "Let me show you how sorry I am for not telling you about my birthday and how much I appreciate your gift."
I didn't say anything and instead tilted my head back to where Harry had moved his mouth, to allow him more access to the skin on my neck. His tongue suddenly flattened against the sensitive spot under my ear, forcing out a choked sort of breath from the back of my throat.
"Tell me," he murmured, his hand trailing up my side to my chest – over my collarbone, where he rested his fingers against my thudding pulse. "Is that what you want, Mayflower?"
The breathless 'Yes' that tumbled from my lips immediately was almost embarrassing. Would have been embarrassing if he wasn't quick to get to his feet, his expression amused. A pregnant sort of silence loomed over the two of us, with only my ragged breathing to fill the space, as he flipped me onto my back and was hovering over top of me moments later.
I wasn't sure if it was because of the emotions of the night or the final bits of alcohol still peppering their way through my system, but everything about the moment felt heightened. The heat and weight of his body suddenly pressed against mine, the overwhelming and clouding smell of vanilla seeming to radiate from his pores, the delicate and beautiful essence of his very being in such close proximity. I was almost worried that the electricity buzzing below my skin would become apparent to him.
"Thank you," he murmured against the skin of my neck, trailing a path of open mouthed kisses to my collarbone. "Thank you, fuck, thank you."
"You already said that," I tried to tease, but felt my face heat. He shouldn't be thanking me for anything tonight, least of all the gifts that I had bought him. Not after I had been so quick to run out and made him cry twice. That wasn't worth any thanks.
"I can see the gears whirring in your head," he commented thoughtfully. He grazed his teeth against my neck and pulled some of my skin into his mouth. "Stop thinking. I want to thank you for the gifts and for coming back to me."
A brief pause as I hissed, grabbing hold of his shoulder when he dipped his head further and ground his hips against mine. "Thank you for staying." I managed, "For not leaving the first change you got."
His mouth was once again on mine with hurried and unrestrained emotion, his hands finding their way under my shirt, mapping their way up my exposed stomach and chest.
"Never," he breathed, lids fluttering. In a rushed, almost fervent continuation, he shook his head and murmured, "I would never leave."
"Christ," I mumbled against his lips with a giggle, trying not to dwell on the passion in his words, bucking my hips upwards involuntarily. "Your hands are fucking cold!"
Harry only grinned, humming, "Guess I'll have to find a way to warm them up."
He sunk his teeth into my lower lip, eyelids fluttering closed and brushing against the upper part of my cheek, as he reached behind me searching for a familiar clasp. Pulling away momentarily, both my shirt and bra were thrown over my head with a triumphant enthusiasm as his eyes trailed over my bare skin.
"This," he breathed softly, lowering his head to connect his lips just below my ribs, hands braced on either side of my waist, "This is the best fucking birthday present."
His words had goosebumps spreading across me like wildfire, no longer from the cold of his fingers that had warmed almost immediately upon coming into contact with my skin. The reaction just his voice alone could have on my body was absolutely astonishing – something I was sure science could benefit from studying.
"Maybe – ah," my words stumbled over themselves, mind going absolutely and utterly blank as he trailed his tongue in a slow path upward from my hips, over my stomach, to between my breasts. I buried my hand in his hair, spreading my fingers over the length of his scalp, in an attempt to steady myself as I breathlessly continued, "Maybe I'll return your other gifts then."
Harry suddenly jerked my pants over my hips, causing me to let out a breath of surprise. He dragged them to my ankles, throwing them to the floor, before pulling his own shirt over his head and dropping it beside the bed in much the same fashion. His pants were the next to go.
"Don't," he began, grabbing my waist and pulling me toward him before bringing his mouth back down to my face. "You dare."
I gasped as he bared his teeth, grazing them against my jaw. His hands were busy tracing absent circles and patterns on my chest, moving steadily lower with every passing hot huff of breath against my ear.
My skin was too sensitive. I was aware of everything touching me from his hands, to the material of the comforter beneath me, to his lips teasing their way down my body. When I tried to clench my thighs together, Harry was quick to hold them apart, moving the last few inches to the familiar spot between my legs.
"Wait–" I said suddenly as he dipped his head down, obviously readying to wreak havoc on my very existence. He was quick to pause, looking up at me.
"Are you okay?"
"I – yeah," I swallowed, hoping that my face was already well enough heated not for him to notice my blush. "I just... it's your birthday. Let me do something for you."
Harry's concerned expression morphed into one of amusement. He tightened his grip on my thighs, rings digging into my skin with an exciting sort of pleasure that coursed all the way through me, as he cocked his head to the side to look at me. He raised a questioning brow.
"Switch places with me." I said, propping myself up on my elbows and motioning for him to take my spot. He was still watching me with an entertained expression as he helped to pull me down from the bed and then promptly lied down on his back. I nearly let out a snort when he so casually braced his hand behind him on the headboard, as if this was the most natural position in the world for him.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, looking me up and down. His eyes seemed like they were tracing over every inch of my skin, over every freckle, hair and mark. I tried not to shy away from his gaze as he added, thumb trailing over his bottom lip, "I don't think I've ever seen someone as beautiful as you."
This time, I did let out a snort. "You're only saying that because I'm about to suck your–"
"Crass," Harry interjected with a shake of his head. His eyes were twinkling, "And most definitely not true."
With a quick breath, I pulled my hair into a ponytail courtesy of the hairband around my wrist, all while looking anywhere but his face. Trying not to let my nerves get the best of me or worry about how awful I must look with my hair up, I settled myself between his legs and tucked my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs.
My pulse settled deep into my chest at an anxious rate, fingertips lingering on the skin of his upper thighs as I reached forward to grab hold of him. He hissed through his teeth and I glanced up in time to see his mouth fall open.
"Shit – your hands are cold,"
He was trying to tease, but his voice came out a bit strained. Evidently so, considering how hard he was beneath my touch. I could only imagine how he must be feeling internally, the flush of his cheeks being the external hint. It was weird, being the one in control for once. Knowing that it was my turn to undo him the way he was so good at doing to me.
"Sorry," I mumbled, biting down on my lip and not feeling sorry in the least. I managed a gentle stroke up and down, allowing myself to be nervous for only a second, as I realized I'd probably need a second hand to cover the entire surface.
I dipped my head down, breathing heavily, readying myself. It wasn't that I hadn't sucked a dick before, it had just been... a while. And this wasn't exactly the person that I wanted to experiment on, it was the person who I hoped to do the best on. I wanted to give him exactly what he'd given me.
Staring up at him through my lashes, I made sure to keep my eyes directly locked on his for the exact moment I jutted my tongue out and swirled it around his tip. He let out a choked gasp, eyes screwing shut and the flush on his cheeks deepening. His one hand immediately braced the bed beside him, the other that was still tucked behind his head closing into a fist so tight that his knuckles turned white.
I let my tongue glide up and down him for a few beats. Slowly – experimentally, seeing how he was going to react. Much to the pleasure and satisfaction snaking its way up my spine, manifesting itself in a shiver that I tried hard to contain, he reacted even better than expected. Gripping him at the base and twirling my tongue again around his head, he balled the comforter beneath his hand into a tight fist, mouth opening and shutting silently as if he was trying his hardest not to make any noise.
Well, that just wouldn't work for me.
I dipped my head down, taking the entire length of him in my mouth. The low, guttural curse that tumbled from his pink, swollen lips, matched with a sudden shift of his hip upwards had me wondering why I hadn't insisted I do this the very first chance that I got.
It only grew from there. His quick, laboured breaths, the pleading and incessant whimpers, all the while I bobbed myself up and down until my jaw ached. He eventually had to brace his free hand somewhere more grounding than behind his head, which resulted in him tearing the elastic of out my hair and tangling it all into a loose, lazy fist all the while murmuring breathless, almost unintelligible, pleas and encouragement.
"Fuck – just like that, yes – fuck – Christ. Fucking hell – Jesus fuck, May."
I almost didn't hear him at first – was enjoying too much listening to his non-verbal moans and groans, that I was only aware of what was happening when he suddenly jerked my head up and away from him, angling my face to look at him. The slight twinge of pain in my scalp at the movement only caused the warmth deep in my chest and between my legs to bloom.
"You need to stop," he said gruffly, struggling to take a solid breath. His lids were drooped, muddled with pleasure and lust, as he stared at my face. "Or I'm gonna come down your fucking throat."
I was about to dip my head back down, ready to deliberate with an unspoken response that I wasn't opposed to it, but Harry acted faster. It was all of two seconds before he righted himself enough to grab me by the shoulders and roughly throw me down onto the bed, chest down and back exposed.
"Not today, Killer. As much as I love fucking your mouth," he rasped, throat sounding a bit raw, "Right now, I want to fuck you."
A warm, strong set of hands grabbed me by the waist and pulled me backward until the familiar, hard sensation of him settled up against me from behind. I arched my back, pressing my face into the pillow and taking a deep breath, trembling with need and desire. The friction – no, the lack thereof, was unbearable. I was about to cry out, whimper, beg, ask him to do something when he suddenly tangled his fingers into my hair, balling it into a fist once more, as he yanked me back up until my back was pressed against his chest.
I didn't have time to react before he was inside me, filling me, connecting us, and I was left all of a strangled, choked moan to familiarize myself with the feeling that I was always sure was going to simultaneously kill and build me anew all at once. To bring myself back to reality.
Something almost inhuman ripped from the back of his throat and his grip in my hair tightened further. My eyes fluttered shut, head falling backwards until it was rested in the crook of his neck. He nestled against my cheek, trailing his free hand up my chest, past my collarbones, grazing my neck, before finally resting on my jaw where he forcibly jerked my face toward his and placed his mouth on mine in a sloppy, brazen attempt to connect us even further.
It was only a few seconds later that he had to pull away to suck in a laboured breath, pressing his forehead against my neck with a deep groan as he pulled in and out of me, beginning torturously slow. I reached up, grabbing and pawing at whatever I was able, my hand settling on the soft skin of his cheek as he continued to choke out a series of quick moans and pants, hot against my ear and overly sensitive parts of my neck.
"Fuck, May–" his voice was muffled from where it was pressed against my skin. He followed it up with a deep, desperate sound that had me throwing my head further back, mouth falling open as he drove himself harder into me.
He bit at my neck, sucking and twirling his tongue around as good as he was able given the position we were in, before seemingly getting fed up with having to pull at my jaw whenever he wanted to kiss me and suddenly pulled out all too quickly.
I was slightly embarrassed at the cry of protest the fell from my lips, but it was very short-lived, as he twirled me around and threw me back against the mattress. With ravenous intent, he trailed his hands up my thighs and drew my legs up before he thrust himself back in me, colliding his hips hard against mine, hard enough that I was sure I would probably see a bruise from in the morning.
Dropping one of my legs and wrapping it around his waist, I gasped at how the shift invited him deeper within me before I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him in for another sloppy kiss. The fervent, desperate eagerness of it all had his teeth knocking against mine, had our mouths barely even meeting their target the first time, but neither of us seemed to care.
No, not as his eyes fluttered open and shut, taking in every inch of my face – mine doing much the same of his. Not as he dropped his head, grazing his nose over my cheeks, inhaling deeply and struggling to stay above me without shaking. Not as his thumb found my lip, padding its way across the surface.
Neither of us cared very much about anything other than each other at that very moment and I was willing to bet on it.
"Harry," his name was the only word swirling around in my head.
The only word that I might very well know for the rest of my life, and quite frankly, I would be completely fine with that. Even if I could barely speak it now, even if it tumbled from my swollen lips almost as an inaudible, breathless plea for him to just continue. To just stay there, to remain pressed against me forever like he was at this very moment and never leave.
"May," he breathed in response, kissing every inch of my face. He trailed his lips over every exposed part of my skin with the same whispered syllable as if he might never get the chance again, "May, May, May."
I grabbed his chin, directing his mouth to mine, focusing only on the warmth of his tongue as it darted out and curled around mine. His rhythm, which has grown incessantly, stuttered for only a second as he braced his own palm on my cheek, before picking back up again both harder and faster than before – the feeling travelling through every inch of my body, unravelling my being.
"Please," I choked out, tangling my fingers in his hair, "God, Harry. I'm – fuck, I'm close."
Harry huffed a breath. It might very well have been a laugh or maybe a sob, but there was no way to know for sure. Not as he began to drive in and out of me, hips clashing together, skin grazing skin, at a pace so quick and so intense that it ached with a pleasure and passion that I hadn't even known possible. My hand fell loosely down the back of his neck to the skin of his lower back, my nails digging in hard.
The hitch in his breath and the strangled moan that tore out of him was enough to let me know he was close too, which had timed perfectly considering the throbbing building within me had become incessant, almost unbearable. We were both mounting this path together, our euphoria readying to crest at the same time – building, reaching, crawling.
His lips were suddenly on my neck again, travelling up to my ear, and I could barely keep my eyes open at the sensation let alone even dream of muttering something intelligible in response. His last hushed whispers and pleas of encouragement, matched with the feeling of his tongue on my skin, were what finally put me over the edge.
With a sharp cry and sudden blinding of my vision, the pressure within me built and exploded all at once. I tensed around Harry, reaching out to grab at whatever I could, trying to ground myself however possible, while the feeling wracked its way through me in spasms, in pulses, in quick, unending pants of his name.
All the while, Harry was doing the same. He was holding me, touching me, kissing me, suddenly throwing himself deeper into me than I had even thought possible as he rode out his own high with flushed cheeks and hair matted against the slick skin of his face. He tensed, blowing out a final sharp set of breaths, before dropping his forehead to mine and looking into my eyes with such a blinding, emotional brilliance that my heart almost beat right out through my ribs.
He dropped a final chaste, world-spiralling kiss against my lips before dragging his nose over mine, against my cheek, and lulling his head to rest in the crook of my neck. His eyes had fluttered shut, voice muffled, as he mumbled, "Best. Fucking. Birthday. Ever."
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CHAPTER SUMMARY:
May goes back to the place where Harry took her on their first "date" - the spot that overlooks the lights of the city. She reminisces. Thinks about her mom.
Realizes that her mom wouldn't want her sitting out here chainsmoking and wallowing, but would rather she go to Harry and figure things out face-to-face. That it isn't fair to leave Harry in the dark.
They talk. He says that he's here for her and that she doesn't have to push him away. He says that he'll apologize to Isaac, to which May says he wasn't really entirely at fault. They get all mushy, say they're glad they met each other.
She gives him his birthday gifts: Yellow nail polish labelled 'Yellow Mellow Sunshine', a Sun and Moon keychain and a toothbrush (so the bastard can stop stealing hers).
They engage in some intimate adult activities... :)
Harry says, "Best. Fucking. Birthday. Ever." .... though it might just be because he got to dick May down! :D
—
Adding in this incredible drawing that katiecatmeowmeow drew of May's gifts to Harry - I cried when I saw it. <3
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a/n:
me: used to hate writing smut
also me: just wrote 3k words of smut as the ending of this chapter
bye </3 i love you all so much, thank you SO much for 30k!!! like what!!!!! also I'm laughing at the people who added this to their dark harry reading lists reading this chapter like "uh... wtf..."
- v