Matilda

I quietly exit the bedroom, making my way downstairs. The house felt weird with only two people occupying it. Last time, Mitch filled it with life and it just felt livelier. I opened the windows and doors in the living room to let the fresh air in, the sound of the birds filling the space along with the faint rippling sound of the fountain running at the back of the property. It was tranquil.

I take the time to order breakfast to be delivered to the house from a local cafe, it was set to be delivered in an hour. I collapsed onto a couch in the living room facing the open back door with a clear view of the sunrise. I pulled the collar of Harry's hoodie up to my face, breathing in his scent.

I love him.

I actually came to that realization last night. I love him.

I run through the ways I could tell him in my head. None of them seeming right. It didn't have to be some grand gesture, but I wanted the timing to be right. Was a trip planned around my dead brother even the right place to do it?

My phone vibrates on the couch pulling me out of my thoughts. It's lily sending me a picture of Willow while they're out walking.

Lily: Next time you go out of  town, please tell your dog when  you're coming home so she's not  up at an ungodly hour wanting  to walk around the neighborhood  looking for you.

Tilly: Sorry, Lil. I'll try my  best next time xo

I threw it back on the couch, only for Lily to call me a minute later, "Hello?"

"Why are you up so early? Did something happen yesterday? Last night? Did you spiral? Are you actively spiraling?"

"No, not yet. I honestly don't know why I'm awake." I say.

"Y'got something on your mind, don't you?" Lily always knew how to read me. Even when she couldn't see my face, she picked up on little changes in my voice and how I spoke to her. There really was no hiding or tiptoeing around subjects with her.

"Yeah actually," I pause, formulating my next sentence carefully, then ultimately deciding to just blurt it out to her, "I love him, Lil. I love him and I don't know what to do about it."

"Holy shit," is all she says and for a second I think she might have passed out from shock from her lack of response. 

"I know... I've never told someone that–romantically. I don't know how. Do I have to wait for the right moment? Is this trip the right time and place?"

"Tilly, Tils. Relax. You're overthinking it. It doesn't have to be a big thought out gesture like a proposal. When you feel the moment is right, you just tell him how you feel," her voice is soothing through the phone, but it doesn't stop my mind from coming up with 'what ifs.'

"What if the moment never feels right?"

"It will. If you really love him and this isn't just lust manifesting in other ways, you'll feel it, babe. And don't stress about him not saying it back, he pretty much already has."

"Well, I wasn't until you just brought it up," my heart quickens with the thought of him shooting me down, denying me when I decide to wear my heart out on my sleeve for the first time in my life. 

"Tilly, him admitting to being in love with you is the first step. If I had to guess, I think he's loved you for a long time, and he's just been too scared to say anything. Even if I didn't know that detail, it's obvious he's head over heels for you," Lily takes a deep breath in the middle of her lecture, "He looks at you with more admiration than I've ever seen. He looks at you like you hung the stars for him. I can't tell you how to say it. Your mind will kind of make the decision for you as if you don't have control over it."

I roll my eyes and say with sarcasm, "Thanks for your help."

"I'm sorry. It'll be fine, babe. You'll be fine. I'm going back to bed before I have to get up for class. I love you. Keep me updated."

I hang up, throwing my phone back down on the couch and sitting in the tranquil sounds of the morning for a while. Replaying the night in front of the museum and what Harry said. He seemed like he had the utmost control over his thoughts in that moment. It didn't seem like he blurted it out in the heat of the moment. 

Before I knew it, there was a knock at the door. I collected the food from the front steps, shutting the door behind me. There had been no sounds upstairs coming from the room hinting he was awake. I take the food out of the bag and plate it up before carefully balancing everything on my way upstairs.

I set the plates of food on the nightstand before lowering myself on the bed. Harry's back is to me, facing the open door. I lean on him, wrapping an arm around him and resting my head on the ball of his bare shoulder. He stirs a minute at my added weight, eyes fluttering open before wincing from the light in his eyes.

"Good morning," I smile at his facial expression as he starts to wake up.

He rolls over to his back, looking up at me with a half-asleep smile, and the tone of sleep that came from his lips mixed with what he said could have been enough to cause me to make out with him if I didn't have self control, "Good morning, baby."

He pulls me on top of him, clasping his hands together on my lower back.

"You're up early," he looks at me, his head propped up on a pillow, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

"And you're not. I got impatient and ordered breakfast," I pressed a kiss to his lips before pushing off his chest. He sits up, the duvet falling down his torso, exposing the branch tattoos on his pelvis peeking out of the waistband of his shorts.

I hand him his plate and his coffee to which he thanks me before he recognizes the garment I'm wearing. A small smile plays on his lips, "You're stealing from my suitcase now?"

"I was cold getting out of bed, and it was available."

He moves over in bed for me to sit. I scoot myself close to him, almost leaning on him. We were quiet as we ate, but we stole glances as we did when we thought the other wasn't looking. When he was done, he reached across me to put his plate on the nightstand, kissing me on the cheek as he passed before he stands and moves to the bathroom to shower.

The morning sun was higher in the sky now, casting a brighter light and warmer air. I take my coffee to the balcony, lying back on one of the lounge chairs. I welcome the comfortably warm feeling of it on my skin. Harry comes out and finds me, his hair damp, his bare chest littered with water droplets from not drying off completely. 

He lowers himself onto the layback chair next to me, hugging my torso like he did all night, burying his face in my side. He was being more physical; more physically affectionate. Not in a sexual way, though.

Not in a way that he expected something in return. More like he needed me there to ground him. He was clinging to me like he needed something and I was the only one who could provide it to him.

"Y'alright, H?"

He doesn't answer right away. It almost feels like he buries his head deeper into my side at first, as if he's trying to hide from the world, or shield himself from something. Eventually, he moves his head to lay on my stomach he's holding.

"Yeah, I will be."

My hand finds it's way into his hair, combing through his damp strands. The feeling like satin in my fingers, "You can tell me. You can always tell me when something's wrong."

I let the offer hang in the air above us. Offering him a safe place to just be like he's done for me so many times before. He repositions his head on my torso again, resting it back in the same spot, but lighter than before.

"I just woke up feeling heavy this morning," his voice is quiet. A different quiet than how I'm used to hearing it. It's reserved; cautious, instead of the calming, welcoming voice I'm so used to hearing from him.

"Because of Oliver?" My tone matches his cautiousness. Tiptoeing around the subject, not wanting to make him upset. His hold tightens on me out of reflex and that tells me everything I need to know. He's shielding himself from his feelings, trying to shield himself from feeling his grief that's coming back slightly. 

My hand starts rubbing his head before moving to his shoulder and rubbing there instead. He doesn't have to nod, he doesn't have to verbally confirm. He doesn't have to explain. I know how he's feeling.

"I never got to go to the burial... because of the crowd that had grown outside," his unexpected sentence slices through me like a freshly sharpened knife. But that didn't hurt the most, what hurt the most was the sound of his voice cracking as he spoke it. 

I squeeze his shoulder in reassurance. "I was at the wake, I got to say goodbye to him, but I didn't get to see him off at the burial." 

I set my coffee down on the side table next to me and clasped my hands and arms around him, feeling like he needed the feeling of being protected in this moment as much as I did sometimes. This was new for me, this was new for him. He has never been this vulnerable with me before, but he clearly was bottling some emotions up inside over the loss of one of his best friends and he needed closure, probably as much as I did.

"He's buried here... in Phoenix. We can visit him, if you want," I offer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He tilts his head to look up at me, sniffling back some tears, "Are you sure?"

I lean my head against his, nodding, "He was your best friend, Harry. You deserve to be able to say goodbye to him, and visit him when you want to. We'll go today."

–

We laid out on the balcony for a while until the sun got too bright and too hot in the dark-colored oversized sweatshirt I was wearing. I eventually willed us to get off the chair so I could get ready, but Harry stayed outside for a while. I got ready for the day quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting long, and not wanting him to have to sit alone for longer than he had to.

I slipped on a white flowy tank top and some denim shorts. I didn't do anything with my hair, keeping the messy wavy look it had from being wet from the rain the night before. Harry had moved to laying on the bed again when I had finished. He saw me emerge and sat up a little straighter before getting up and deciding he should probably put on a shirt. 

The car ride was longer than I had expected it to take, some morning traffic being a little heavier than we had predicted for the time of the day that we finally got out of the house. I gave him directions from muscle memory once we got to the other side of the city where the cemetery was. We had stopped at a farmer's market on our way and got some flowers to put on the grave. 

The cemetery was quite large, and of course the only available option when I had to come pick the spot for Oliver was near the very back of the plot. Before we stepped inside the boundary of the cemetery, Harry grabbed my hand abruptly and I gave his squeezes periodically on our walk to the back of the property. 

His gravestone looked exactly as it did the first day I saw it. Not a single sign of weathering or wear and tear yet. His gravestone read:

'Oliver Brady Florence 1992-2017 "The world needs more kindness.'

I study Harry closely as he takes a step toward the headstone, crouching down so he's level with it, running his finger tips over the words I chose months ago for the occasion. He looks back at me over his shoulder, "The world needs more kindness?"

I immediately recognize that he remembers the line from our car ride to the studio from the carpool karaoke recording. I purse my lips together into a line and nod my head, "It was sort of his mantra the last couple years."

He turns his attention back to the headstone and I move a little behind him, taking a seat on the lush grass. He places his hand on the gravestone and leans into, propping himself up as if it's hard for him to exist right now. He eventually stands just to sit down in the grass next to me, placing the flowers we picked up on our way beside him in the grass. 

He sits, bending his knees, wrapping his arms around them slightly so his hands clasp in front of him, hanging his head and looking toward the ground. My hand instinctively meets his back and I rub comforting circles around as I watch him process what's before him. The last time I had been here was the day before I moved to LA. I got drive thru food for dinner on my way home from my old job, and brought it here to have dinner with Oliver one last time before moving to a completely different city. 

*play Bigger Than The Whole Sky - Taylor Swift*

I can't imagine how he's feeling now, having only seen the casket the day of the funeral. Only to see his burial spot six months after the fact, because he feared that his presence at the burial site would cause a crowd much like the one that was outside of the funeral home. 

The world didn't deserve someone like Harry. Someone who's always thinking about others and their well being. Constantly checking in on them, making sure they're alright. Sometimes even before he helps himself. 

I rested my head on Harry's shoulder in my best attempt at bringing him comfort and trying to show him that I was here. I may not always have the right things to say, or the best ways of comforting and consoling, but at the very least, I was here. Minutes go by where we just sit in silence. I stole glances of him periodically, trying to secretly check in on him. Most of the time his head was still hung between his knees, head facing the ground and his eyes closed. Not a single emotion was worn across his face. Just a blank expression of being lost in his own thoughts. 

I eventually placed my free hand on his arm, my other continuing to rub his back. My hand met the skin of his exposed upper arm, magnifying the feeling of my touch. His head raised slightly and he looked at me, his head still stooped low. He sniffles, before raising his head to look at the headstone in front of us again.

"How did you get the news?" His voice is low, quiet and broken, a tone that I've never heard from him.

I lean my head against his shoulder, suddenly not able to hold it up on my own, "Uhm, rangers... came to my house. It was the night after the accident. They only had dental records to go off of for identification so it took longer..."

I choke back some sobs I didn't realize were threatening to make themselves known. Harry senses it and moves his arm over my head to my back, pulling me closer to his side. I look up at him at this moment. His jaw is strikingly tense, sharpening his jawline to the point he looks like he could slice through something with ease.

"How did you?" I keep my voice low, matching his tone from his question.

"Jeff. He'd actually been in the area and heard the next morning on the news about a crash in the canyon so he did some digging. He flew back to Los Angeles straight away to tell Mitch and I. He knew Oliver was flying out here, but he didn't know what he was flying out here for by himself." 

The air between us is thick. A mixture between the dry heat of the day and the sad tension that had been created between us. I lean more of my weight into him at his last sentence, knowing full well why Oliver was coming out here, "Me."

I move my head slightly so I could see Harry's face, "He was coming to surprise me for my birthday. I-I had been complaining to him for months that he hadn't been home in forever and I knew the album had been done so I didn't understand why he couldn't come home for a couple days. I told him all I wanted to do was go to his spot in the canyon and spend time with him for my birthday."

The gentle grip his hand has on my arm tightens, pulling me closer than I thought possible into his side. "Did they... Did they ever figure out why?"

I nodded, "Low visibility. It was unusually foggy that night because it had just rained for more than thirty minutes and there was no wind to blow the clouds out of the area. The pilot wasn't paying attention to his altitude, trying to concentrate more on being able to see through the clouds. They flew into a cliff."

I can feel him wince, and I immediately want to take it back, never meaning to hurt him.

I lost track of how long we sat like that, our arms physically touching each other, but both knowing it wasn't coming close to what we both needed. While also not having a single clue of what we did need. By the time Harry suggested we go back to the car, we both had beads of sweat showing on our skin from the Arizona heat. Harry grabbed the bouquets of flowers and hands me one, his pained eyes lingering into mine a little longer than he probably meant them to.

We both knelt and placed the flowers on either side of the ledge of the headstone. I stood, but Harry stayed kneeling on one knee in front of the grave for a beat. My hand found his shoulder, understanding how hard this must be for him. I was a train wreck during my first visit. He was keeping it together better than I ever could. 

He stands eventually, wrapping his arm around my back causing me to do the same. He pulls me to him, planting a kiss on my temple before grabbing my hand, walking us back to the car quietly. He walked us slowly through the paths of the cemetery to the front, dragging his feet as if he was unsure whether he was ready to leave or not. 

I slow to a stop when we've reached the middle of the cemetery, causing Harry to turn and look at me, still holding our hands together. He gives me a sorrowful questioning look.

I grab his free hand with mine, entangling the fingers of both our hands together before looking up at him. The sight of the sadness and grief in his eyes were enough to break my heart into a million pieces. I know both of us were expecting this trip to be hard, but I think we were expecting me to be the one with the reaction, not him.

"You know he loved you, right? He thought so highly of you and the time he spent with you."

Something lightened in his eyes for a brief moment, and it was enough for me to continue just for the chance of seeing it happen again, "He had the best stories about the three of you when he came to visit. It was my favorite parts of his trips home; the stories of how you, him and Mitch working together, getting into trouble, and all of the adventures you went on together. He loved his job, and he loved his friendship with you. You and Mitch were one of his most valued relationships judging by how he spoke of you."

Harry smiled a beat and looked at the ground before looking back up and rubbing circles on my hands, "He spoke so highly of you too. He never shut up about you after he got back from Arizona. He raved about your accomplishments, your photography. He'd show us the pictures you took and posted on Instagram. He was so, so proud of you, Tils."

Tears start brimming my eyes without my knowledge, a couple spilling out over my cheeks. I don't move to wipe them, and neither does he; tears start to brim his own eyes. I smile up at him through my blurred vision and I can see his demeanor soften. We've just spoken exactly what each other needed to hear, confirming our fears that he passed without knowing how much we cared for him making sure we felt less alone in our feelings.

His hand meets my cheek, and my hand finds his wrist, pulling his touch closer to my skin, "He loved both of us. He would have done anything for us. He'd walk to the edges of the Earth for you, H."

He smiles, looking between both of my eyes. I can tell he's having a mental argument with himself on what to say to me next, "I'd do anything for you too, Tilly. I'd walk to the ends of the Earth to give you what you needed."

He smiled at me, his face shining perfectly in the midday sun. I plant a kiss on his lips, molding our mouths together so perfectly. His hand finds the back of my head, pulling our mouths closer before letting go. He places his forehead against mine, pressing them lightly together.

"Will you show me where the two of you grew up?"

I move my head away from him, thinking I had to have misheard him. He sees my worried expression and quickly tries to cover, "If it's too personal, it's okay. I don't have to, I just–I wanted to see where the two of you shared most of your memories. I want to see that side of you. I want to know everything I can about you. I want to see where you were raised, the street you lived on, where you rode your bike, and played with your school friends. I want to know you."

I purse my lips together, trying to find an excuse. 

It got burned down in a fire. It was demolished years ago for shops to be built. Anything.

All I do is nod back at him with a close-lipped smile. 

We got lunch down the street first. The place had no significance, other than it had quick service and it was close, between the cemetery and my childhood home. We ate at a booth in the back of the restaurant, sitting on the same side, me closest to the inside wall. We ate in silence, my head leaning on Harry's shoulder the majority of the time, dreading the moment I would see my old house again for the first time in months. Harry was on edge the whole time in the restaurant. his glasses over his eyes, constantly looking around at the other customers as we ate, but he never once asked me to stop touching him in public. 

Back in the car, I ran my hands up and down my thighs, trying to wipe the sweat from them. Harry took one of my hands to bring me out of my own head. 

"We don't have to do this," he gives me an out.

I shake my head, "It's okay. I have to do it eventually, right?"

He takes his eyes off of me for a split second before returning back to the road, "You haven't been back?"

I shake my head once more, "I haven't had a reason to."

I see his jaw tighten out of my peripheral vision. He's fighting himself on what to say again, but he doesn't talk. He just squeezes my hand in return, continuing his inner battle. A few minutes after leaving the restaurant we arrive in front of my old beat up house. The run down neighborhood in the middle of the bad part of town looking exactly how I remembered. He throws the car in park, keeping the engine running, not turning it off until I start to get out of the car and he realizes we're staying.

I walk across the street, stepping onto the grass. I look down the street, the one I would walk home on countless times late at night from my job. The grass is so overgrown, almost up to my knees with weeds. The siding of the house was falling off in some spots, the paint chipping in others.

The paint on the front door was chipping, the dark blue color showing the bold yellow it used to be once upon a time. The paint broken, representing the broken home and family it used to represent. I painted it yellow shortly after my dad left us, with my brother's help. No longer wanting to see the yellow that represented a time when we used to be happy, when we used to be a family that loved and supported each other.

I step up to the stairs, my hand reaching out to trace the chipping paint with my fingertips. I hear Harry's footsteps step onto the concrete stairs behind me, but he doesn't say anything. He watches as I take it all in.

There were curtains in the windows, blocking any sort of view inside the house. The concrete of the walkway and the driveway cracking and crumbling from lack of upkeep. The metal fence to the backyard was still there and standing, protecting the yard like a false sense of security. The yard that was filled with times of playing with Oliver, playing with my mom and later playing with Willow when all I needed was an escape from the harsh reality of what my life had turned into as I got older. 

"Tilly... We're trespassing," Harry's voice breaks me from the flood of memories.

I turn and see Harry's worried expression. I had hopped the fence of the backyard without realizing, Harry's worried the owners of the house were going to catch us. "My mom still owns it, no one lives here anymore."

He relaxes a little bit, but not completely. I move to the small, skinny metal swing set positioned in the back corner of the yard. I take a seat on a swing, kicking off the ground a bit to get a small motion going. Harry moves from the middle of the yard to sit on the swing next to me.

"Where did she move to?"

I pause, a split second not knowing what to say, not ready to reveal that part of myself to him yet, "She... moved across town... Wanted to fix this up for me or Oliver, but never got around to it after he died."

He stays quiet, unsure of what to say. He keeps his eyes trained on his feet that were moving around in the dirt, keeping his swing swaying back and forth.

I look around at the swing set before saying, "Oliver broke one of his arms on this swing set."

A smile slightly appears, "Yeah?"

I nodded, "We were having a contest to see how high we could get and jump off without chickening out. I was too afraid of getting hurt, but he had to do it one more time after I gave up just to prove a point. He was stubborn like that. His swing slipped out from under him and he hit the ground, landing on his arm. Broke it in three places and almost needed surgery."

He laughs to himself, shaking his head and looking down at the ground, "Classic Ollie. Always too stubborn for his own good."

My mind wanders to the memories, this house holds for me. The bad out-weighing the good. The nights my father would come home in a blind, drunken fit of rage over something small. Some douche at the bar after work trying to start something with him, or someone cutting him off on his drive home. The fights he picked with my mother when she didn't do anything wrong, emotional and physical. Making her feel like she could never do anything right. 

The hateful words he would breathe at me like fire coming from a dragon about anything he could get his hands on to hurt me. My photography, grades, sports, appearance. Always turning it around to praise Oliver whether or not he was living at the house at the time.

The first night I saw my mom passed out on the kitchen floor from too much to drink, in the middle of cutting up an apple, the sharp knife she was using lying on the floor centimeters away from her. My first hint that she had a problem. The time I found her in the bathroom, a used needle lying on the floor beside the tub. Paramedics having to bring her back, then her adrenaline kicking in causing her to fight them with everything she had to only be sedated so they could get her stable for the ride to the hospital. 

That was the last night I had seen her. She stayed in the hospital from complications for a few weeks and I packed up my things, not being able to escape Phoenix fast enough.

"Does it still hurt? Missing him, I mean?" He asks me.

"A part of it is always going to hurt. A part of me will always miss him, always long to have a conversation with him again. To be in the Grand Canyon around a fire with him again," I fall silent, feeling the longing rise in my chest, allowing myself to feel it before continuing, "But, as much as it hurts, I hope that feeling never leaves me."

His head ticks over to me at my words in confusion, "Why would you want to feel that forever?"

"Because I was lucky enough to love someone so much that I will endure missing them for the rest of my life. If that's a small price to pay in order to be able to relive the love and happy memories I hold with my brother, I will gladly remember the pain and heartbreak that comes with it." I give him a small smile.

His eyes soften from confusion as he looks at me, "Your mind truly never ceases to amaze me."

We sat on the swings for a while, the sun beating down on us until we couldn't stand the heat anymore. He helped me over the fence, despite me jumping it subconsciously by myself an hour before. There were more places Harry had wanted to go to today, but he sensed the heaviness exuding from me and drove us back to the house. The car ride was silent, not even the radio was on, and neither of us felt the need to fill the air with sound. 

I felt like I could collapse the moment we walked into the door of the house. I stumbled myself into the kitchen, leaning on the wall for support. Harry met up with me after locking the door, his arms around my torso adding the physical support that I needed. 

He pressed his face into my hair on the side of my neck, "Let me run you a bath, love. Soak off the weight from today."

I hummed at the thought and he immediately took that as a yes. He moved upstairs to the master bathroom, shortly after the sound of the running water ringing out through the house. He comes down shortly after to retrieve me, finding me in the same place he left me. I follow him upstairs. He walks me to the bathroom door before stopping in his tracks.

"Call for me if you need anything and I'll get it for you, I'll just be in here in the bedroom," He presses a kiss to my cheek before turning me around to walk into the bathroom and shutting the door. He laid out towels on the edge of the tub for me when I'm done. On the sink, there's a pair of clean underwear and one of his t-shirts folded in a pile for me to change into after. His consideration stole my breath away everyday. 

I felt lighter after sitting in the tub for a while. I stayed until the water started to cool to the point where I needed to get out and warm up. Harry was laying on the bed on top of the blankets when I surfaced from the bathroom. He put his phone down immediately upon seeing me in the doorway.

I move over to the bed and he sits up a little straighter asking, "Are you hungry?"

I gave a head shake as my answer, quietly crawling into the space between the side of his body and his arm, placing my head on his shoulder. "What do you want to do?"

I tighten the grip I have on him, tangling my legs with his, "I don't want to do anything. I just want to exist here, with you."

His arms tighten around me, pulling me to him tighter than I thought was possible, almost as if he believed if he let go I would disappear. We held each other the rest of the day, and all night, just existing. Wrapped up in each other's embrace without a care in the world of what was happening outside the walls of the house. All that mattered was the presence of each other, two people who felt heavy for the same reason, finding comfort in finally feeling understood and seen.

"I'm doing that tomorrow. Today was just radio interviews. He gave me an out. I had every intention of going but..." Her voice trails off at the end and I wince, knowing what was going to come.

"But what? That 'but' doesn't sound good." My heart beat starts to quicken.

"Something happened on the flight in last night. He's been off ever since. He was in his office the majority of the night when we got here. I fell asleep and woke up this morning on the couch. At that point he was already about to leave for his interviews so we didn't get a chance to talk and he didn't wake me up to get ready for the radio station. So it was kind of an unspoken decision that I wasn't going to go." She explains, pausing to give Lily some time to react. Her voice was soft, almost indistinguishable with the quiet pitch she was talking at. This was affecting her more than I thought and she was trying to keep it together. 

"Well, what happened on the plane?"

"We had fallen asleep, but I had woken up because he was talking in his sleep. He seemed really disturbed so I woke him up. He was quiet the entire time from then on, until we got to the house. Then, he only said things that needed to be said like where things were when he was showing me where his bedroom and bathroom were."

"He hasn't explained anything?"

"He hasn't really had the chance. I haven't been able to ask. He was dressed and ready to go this morning when I woke up from the light in the living room. Had I not woken up, I think he would have left without telling me he was leaving."

I wouldn't have. I had thought about it – just to let her sleep – but I wouldn't have been able to go the entire day knowing I left the house without at least looking into her eyes first.

"I'm sorry, babe. What are you doing now that you're back at the house for the night?"

"Painting my nails," there's a pause before Tilly continues, "and waiting for Harry to get back. Hoping he's in a better mood."

I wish I was. I wish I could turn it off like a switch.

"He's still not back?" I hear Lily ask.

It suddenly felt wrong eavesdropping into her conversation with Lily. This conversation felt private. Even though it was about me, her feelings were hers, and they were private until she decided she didn't want them to be private to me anymore.

I spin on my heel and open the garage door softly again, silently stepping out and closing it behind me to gather the bags of food I had picked up for dinner from my favorite Italian restaurant. My second time entering the house, I made my presence a little more known. The living room was quiet this time as I set the paper bags of food on the counter and kicked off my shoes and socks.

I move around the counter to go into the living room, but something on the counter catches my eye. A stack of photo prints resting under a flash drive. There's about six or seven pictures in the stack and I couldn't help but reach for them. The top few were prints of Lily and Tilly as they explored around the festival grounds – before they came and found Mitch and I – I'd assume.

I move to the living room as I sort through the pictures, sitting on the couch across from Tilly. There were shots of each of them posing with the festival in the background, and then a couple selfies of them together. The next ones were me solo at the microphone, one with my head upward and another where I'm looking in her direction but off to the right more. 

The pictures she got of Lizzo and I performing had to have been my favorites. It was a performance I don't think I could ever forget. I know I told her I didn't want her working during the show, but I was so fucking glad she got pictures of this moment.

I put the pictures on the coffee table in front of me and watch her as she paints a clear coat on her nails. I lean back to get more comfortable on the couch. 

"Hi," my voice comes out barely above a whisper.

"Hi." Her eyes don't reach up to mine. She keeps them trained on her task at hand.

I'm quiet for a beat, not wanting to scare her or make her anxious, but I knew we needed to address the awkward elephant in the room, "Can we talk?"

Before I can even finish the sentence, my phone starts ringing in the pocket of my pants. I pull it out and look at the screen, beating myself up for not putting it on silent the second I walked into the house. 

Of course I'm getting a call right now.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this," I stand from the couch, looking down at her as her eyes finally look at me, flashing me a look of disappointment at me leaving, but I had no choice, "I brought back dinner. Get started without me, this shouldn't take long."

I run up the stairs toward the study, only choosing to answer and pull my phone up to my ear when I'm halfway to the second floor. It's only Jeff on the phone, whatever he had to say I knew she could listen to, but I didn't want her to get more upset if she learned I had to pull away again because of a work call when I should be done for the day.

"Hello?"

"H! Congrats on the interviews today, it looks like they were a huge success," he cheers into the phone.

"Thanks, Jeff."

The sound of rustling papers could be briefly heard on his end, "I took a look at what some people are saying online and the feedback is good, which is exactly what we want before Graham Norton tomorrow."

"Great, Jeffrey," I could feel my annoyance building knowing this isn't what he wanted to actually talk about, this was just him trying to get a feel for my mood before he asked me to do something, "Why are you actually calling? You don't ever call me to talk about how something is rating."

He exhales a sigh, preparing himself, "The Vogue team wants to move up your interview with them in New York City. Something about schedule conflicts."

I paused a second, thinking about it, "Okay... I'm here for another week and then in Jamaica for a while, but depending on when they want to do it I could potentially make it work."

"They want to do it Saturday."

"This Saturday?" I clarify.

Jeff hums a yes as an answer.

"Absolutely not," I immediately dispute, "I'm going home this weekend. I was promised time off and Tilly and I are spending it in the countryside with my family."

Jeff's silence on the phone rings through my ears like a freight train as I wait for his response, "I'll call them back and see if they can do another day. Or at the very least you do a virtual interview with them for the article, yeah?"

I think about it a second, but eventually agree. Even if I have to be on a computer all day Saturday, at least I'll still be in the country, the same house as Tilly while I do it.

"Why is Tilly going to see your family?" He asks me through the phone. It's a loaded question. I know he knows the answer, and he knows that I do also. In any other scenario I'd be outrageously annoyed with him for pressing into something so personal, but given the circumstances, I realize he's just trying to do his job by looking out for me.

"I don't have to answer that," I mutter, "You know why."

He exhales another sigh more aggressively than the first one, "You need to be careful with her, Harry. I saw the pictures of you guys at Coachella. They weren't very clear, but it's a matter of time before people get better ones while you're out."

I stay silent on my end, waiting for him to continue, "The media is going to swallow her whole when they find out she's a photographer for the team first. They'll tear her apart saying she only got the opportunities she's getting because of you and who you are. It'll ruin her name in the industry. Judging the fact that she's going to see your family with you this weekend, I'm going to assume that you wouldn't want that for her."

My blood runs hot with annoyance at his unsolicited advice and lecture, but ultimately, I know he's right. If the media gets wind of who she was before being spotted together, they'd eat her alive. 

I exhale a breath I didn't realize I had been holding, running my hand through my hair, leaning my elbows on my knees as I sat on a couch in my office upstairs, "What're the tabloids saying right now?"

"About the two of you?" He pauses either bringing something up in front of him or trying to pull it out of his memory, "They're not bad, yet. Mostly just trying to speculate who she is. They haven't even caught wind yet that she's working with the team, but it's a matter of time. With the pictures she's been posting of the behind the scenes, some fans have noticed they correspond with some different ones that have been posted on the HSHQ account. We haven't been tagging her account for credit upon her request... but you know how... loyal your fans are."

I couldn't help but snicker at his choice of words. They were loyal. Sometimes too 'loyal.'

For the first time in a while, I smile at a conversation with Jeff, "Thank you, Jeff. For caring, and looking out for me, and for Tilly."

"It's my job, H. I'll see you tomorrow at Norton's recording studio."

He hangs up the phone and I pause in the silence of the room for a moment. As much as I didn't want to believe it, I knew he was right. I vowed to never be the person who shied away from confirming a relationship or lying about one, but I also will never put something personal out into the universe to flaunt it. 

I love her. God, do I love her. With that, comes this incessant need to protect her as much as possible. I'll do anything I can to protect her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I was selfish enough to publicly continue things with her knowing the impact it could have on her future – on the dream she's chasing.

I run my sweaty palms over my dress pants that cover my knees before standing from the couch. When I get back downstairs, Tilly's box of food is lying on the coffee table in front of her. She's on the couch under the blanket she used the night before, doom scrolling through her phone. She must have finished her nails during my call with Jeff.

For a split second, I think about going into the kitchen to grab my food before returning to her in the living room, but I decide against it. I needed there to be no distractions during my conversation with her as I explain myself. Now was the perfect time since she was done with her nails.

I walk into the area with the couch and take a seat where I had been sitting before. When she sees me come back into the room, she puts her phone on the coffee table and sits up, pulling her legs and the blanket to her chin. The air feels thick with tension, and I can tell she's angry with me.

"I'm sorry. Jeff wanted to congratulate me on the interviews."

She presses her lips into a thin line, "It's fine."

I mimic her facial expression and look down for a beat before muttering, "I owe you an explanation, and an apology."

Her eyes tick up to me, "I'm listening."

I search the archives of my brain for the right words to say to her. I never meant to cause this rift between us. These dreams are so new to me. I've never experienced nightmares so jarring and personal to me and my personal life before. I was willing to do anything I could to fix the tension between the two of us. I had been practicing what to say my entire way home from the last radio station I had been at, but sitting in front of her now, seeing her anger very clearly written on her face, I was coming up empty.

"I've been having nightmares–"

Tilly sits back, her posture more relaxed, "I know."

I stop a second, her interruption taking me by surprise and causing me to lose my train of thought, "I'm just not ready to talk about what I've been seeing."

Her eyebrows fall slightly, "Harry, I'm not upset about you keeping me in the dark about what was happening. I told you in California that I didn't need to know what exactly was happening. What I don't understand is why you would tell me you I needed my quiet support, to be there for you when this happens but not give me the opportunity. You pulled away from me on the plane. And you isolated yourself almost immediately after we got to the house. You didn't resurface until after I had fallen asleep on the couch for the night."

I nodded, understanding where she was coming from. I didn't say anything, I just let her continue.

"You told me on the ferris wheel that you liked it when I was there for you on the balcony that same morning. That you appreciated me insisting on being in your presence no matter how much you pushed me away. Harry, I can't do that when you're being so cold to me. I understand you're having nightmares about something, and I don't have to know what they're about but I need to know in those moments what's going on at the least and that it's not from something I did. I can't go day to day with you being so distant, thinking in my head that I did something wrong to upset you. I spent the entire day replaying the events of the last forty eight hours, trying to figure out what I did wrong. What I did to deserve the coldness that came from you last night and this morning."

My heart shattered into a million pieces at her words that I swore I heard. I don't hide the fact that my face falls at her statement. I stand and rush to her side of the couch, sitting next to her and placing my hand on her knee, my other arm on the back of the couch behind her.

"I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry for putting the rift between us. I didn't want to scare you, and I thought I was doing the right thing by excluding you from it. You did nothing wrong. You could never do anything wrong to make me act this way toward you. I've just been going through a lot and I can't seem to sort everything out to where it makes sense," I let my words flow out of my mouth as they circulate through my head, borderline word-vomiting my thoughts and feelings to her.

"Will you tell me what you're seeing when you're ready?" She asks, looking in my eyes with a sorrow-filled look.

I purse my lips together, "If I ever can, then yes."

I don't think I'll ever be able to. Describing how I've been seeing her dead body trapped beneath the roof of my car and pavement of the road isn't something that she ever needs to hear about me experiencing.

For the first time since yesterday, I see her smile the faintest smile as she looks between my eyes, almost trying to decide which one to look in. I examine her features, her blonde hair flowing around her face and over her shoulders. Her brown roots peeking through a bit more than usual. Part of her make up was done, but it was light and minimal. Her face glowed from the golden light coming from the lamp that was on across the room from us.

Her eyes looked like they told the entire story between us from the last forty eight hours. The highs and lows we experienced in a short time. Going from her agreeing to meet my family to not talking in over ten hours. We weren't with each other for those ten hours, but any other circumstances I think we would have been texting each other off and on all day.

Her smile turns into a bigger, more genuine one the longer I study her features. I feel her hand meet mine that's resting on her knee. It catches my attention, causing me to look down at it and I notice her freshly finished nails, the light pink sticking out against the color of my skin.

My hand absentmindedly moves out from under hers, grabbing her hand and rubbing my thumb over a couple of her painted nails as I look at them. They were painted perfectly.

I look up at her, her eyes are confused. She's trying to read what's going on in my head, "Will you paint mine?"

She furrows her eyebrows slightly, but still smiles back at me, "You have an interview tomorrow on television?"

I shrug it off, "So?"

She smiles widely at me , almost as if she can't believe what I'm asking. 

"You pick the colors, you paint them however you want. Surprise me."

She nods her head excitedly and moves off the couch. I follow, sitting at the end of the coffee table on the floor, her sitting caddy cornered to me so we're facing perpendicular around the center of the living room.

She grabs two colors from her bag and gets to work, but I hardly pay attention. I'm too entranced with her and her facial expressions as she intensely concentrates on painting my nails as if it was the most important thing she'll do this week.

"I missed you today," I blurt out. My arm reaches across the space between us, my hand meeting the side of her face and my thumb brushing small movements against her cheek bone. 

Tilly looks up from what she's doing, mid-brushstroke, her gaze meeting mine, a small smile on her face.

"You're just saying that. You've been in interviews all day today. You've been thinking about what questions you'd be asked and what to say without revealing too much on the radio," she tries to call me out, but she couldn't be more wrong.

I smile and shake my head slowly while never taking my eyes off hers, "Not true. Everything from today reminded me of you. During ad breaks, I found myself looking for you, only to realize you hadn't come. Questions I was asked reminded me of you. A few of them I could so vividly hear what your answer would be if you were asked that very same question about me."

She smiles and looks back down at my hand from my eyes, "Well, I spent all day in a darkroom developing film. It wasn't all that exciting. You didn't miss much."

My eyes flick back to the stack of pictures that I had left sitting on the coffee table before Jeff called me, "How does that even work? I thought you sent it off to have that done?"

"You can... but I love the process of doing it myself. It's kind of calming in a way. It needs your sole concentration or else you'll make mistakes," she explains.

"Sounds tedious," I say.

She nods, "It is, but that's kind of what I love about it. The darkroom needs all of your concentration in order for things to turn out the way that you want them to." 

I look at the stack of pictures a beat longer, the one on top being one of Lizzo and I performing. I'm singing into the microphone and Lizzo is smiling over at me with pure joy, "They turned out so good, Tilly. It's impressive what you can do with film."

She shrugs like it's not a big deal and like my compliment barely hits her, "I've had a lot of time to practice over the years and learn from my mistakes."

She's moved onto my left hand now, doing the first coat on each nail. I place my chin in the palm of my other hand and look at her, "Do you give darkroom lessons?"

She exhales a laugh, trying to hold still while she paints, "Depends on who's asking."

"Hmm... me."

"Then, no," she says with a giggle.

I act fake hurt, slapping my right hand to my chest like I've taken a blow. I have. A blow to my ego.

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding," she's quick to defend, "If you ever get time off again with this press you're doing and writing, I'll take you sometime."

She looks back at her work, concentrating. All I can do is smile at her like an idiot. Things felt a little lighter now. I know it won't get better until my nightmares stop, if they ever stop. They would probably get better if I could be more open and explain things better, but I could never bring myself to do that. At least right now, things between us seemed better than this morning.

"Do you have digital copies of your pictures you've taken at Coachella?"

She nods, "I always make digital copies so they're backed up somewhere. Why?"

"Just making sure so we have a way of getting them to Lizzo's team for her to choose which ones she wants to purchase," I explain.

She freezes again mid-brustrokes on her first nail with top coat, "For Lizzo to buy them?"

I let out a laugh and look at her in pure confusion, "She was one hundred percent serious about wanting to buy the rights to some of them so she could post them if any turned out good, baby. She texted me this morning to remind me so I wouldn't forget."

She smiles and the smallest hint of a blush sweeps across her cheeks. She shakes her head at my hand while smiling widely.

"What?" I ask, wanting to know what her sudden burst of joy was from.

"Nothing... Just..." she pauses, pulling the brush back from my nail so the clear coat didn't spill, "If you were to have told me this time last year that in about eight months, I was going to meet someone who would ultimately lead to Lizzo wanting to buy rights to some of my pictures so she can post them... I would have laughed in your face at the sheer idea."

I smile and shake my head at her. After all this time and all these opportunities she's been given, she still has a hard time wrapping her mind around her success. She doesn't believe she belongs where she is. She doesn't believe she deserves the things that she has worked so hard for.

It kills me every time I think about it.

"I told you a long time ago," I pause, bringing my hand up to her cheek as she finishes my left hand under the drying light, "You're going to do amazing things, Tilly Florence."

She smiles and exhales a laugh at me quoting my own sentence from one of the first times we were together. Her eyes looked heavy and tired as she cleaned up her supplies from her makeshift nail salon in the living room.

I look down at my hands to see something I didn't expect – my fingers painted a bold pink and blue. The colors taking turns across my fingers. I look up at her as she zips her bag and looks back at me for my final reaction, "Pink and blue?"

She nods her head, pursing her lips together nervously. I look down at them again and then at hers, noticing a difference.

"The pink isn't the same as yours?" Her nails were lighter pink. Something more dainty. 

She shook her head, "No, it's not. Do you know why?"

I look at her, shaking my head because I truthfully had no clue. I was figuratively hanging onto the edge of my seat waiting to hear her explain, "I told you that you were pink because you could be light and airy," she holds up her hand with her lighter pink nails, "Or you could be bold and brave."

She nods at my nails with her last sentence.

Our eyes meet and her facial expression softens when she sees the realization flash across my face, "You were bold to try and get through what you saw last night by yourself. I can tell you're doing it to try to protect me from whatever it was. All you've ever wanted to do was protect me, even from my own dreams when they were happening. You were brave just a few minutes ago, apologizing and taking accountability for your actions. And I appreciate that."

A small smile forms on my lips, "Okay... why blue?"

"You said it yourself on the ferris wheel, blue is a breath of fresh air. It's a reminder to take a breath when things might get too bold or too brave for you to handle on your own," she was looking down at the coffee table between us, but meets my eyes when she says her last part, "You're never alone when it comes to those types of things, okay?"

I give her a close lipped smile and nod my head as I notice her eyes drooping heavier and heavier, "Can I make an observation?"

She nods.

"I think we've both had a really long day and we're both exhausted. So exhausted that we deserve to sleep in a bed tonight. And all I've been able to think about today was hopefully getting the opportunity to lay down with you."

She exhales a laugh at my statements and nods her head before standing from her spot on the couch. I follow suit. She goes to turn to walk around the coffee table, but I pull her back and snap her to me faster than either of us anticipated.

Her chest meets mine and her hands steady themselves on my hips, fingers grazing over my skin above the fabric of my slacks I've had on all day. I wrap my arms around her, burrowing my face into the curve of her neck. When she realizes what I'm doing, she wraps her arms around me, her arms wrapping under my unbuttoned shirt, making contact with my skin.

"You know I love you, right?" I ask her.

I feel her nod against my head, "I love you."

My fingers tap her lower back after staying in each other's arms for a moment, Tilly pulls back from my embrace with a confused look. Without explaining, I move my hands from behind her back and place them open on her neck, my thumbs running up the sides of her cheeks, her hands find my wrists as she looks over my facial features before landing on my eyes.

I plant a soft kiss on her lips, inhaling as I do. She tries to move her lips to release and kiss me again, but I hold her face still, holding our kiss still. It was a pure kiss. Soft and intentional. I hadn't felt her lips on mine since yesterday, I don't understand how I had made it this long without feeling the sensation.

Her lips were buttery soft. They never failed to ignite a spark against mine every time we kissed. Kissing her was always like the first time I kissed her on her couch two months ago. All of my senses were electrified when our lips met in any form of kiss, sending them into overdrive and I couldn't get enough of it. I could kiss her everyday for the rest of life. I could die happy if that was all I accomplished for the rest of my life.

I force myself to peel our lips apart. Her eyes flutter open and softly smiles at me, "What was that for?"

I rest my forehead against hers, the sides of our noses brushing against each other, "I just really needed to kiss you."

She giggles before planting another quick kiss to my lips, then pulls away from my hands. She grabs one of mine and leads me to the hallway, signaling she was ready for sleep. She takes two steps down the hallway before I pull my hand out of her gentle grasp.

She spins around in confusion, "I need to put the food away, I'll be there in a minute."

She nods and continues toward my bedroom. I clean up her food from the coffee table and put my leftovers that I never ended up eating in the fridge for one of us tomorrow. I grab my shoes and socks from the kitchen floor before turning off the lights and making my way to the bedroom.

She was sitting on the bed, head buried into her phone when I entered. I move to the bathroom to brush my teeth before grabbing a pair of shorts from my closet to sleep in, too exhausted to find a shirt to cover myself up more.

When I exit the closet, the room is only illuminated by the small bedside lamps on either side of the bed. Tilly, however, is still sitting on her phone, one of her hands fidgeting with her lips nervously.

I pad across the room to the king size bed, kneeling on it with my knee before turning into a crawl across the mattress towards her. When I get close to her, I see she's looking at a message thread with someone, but I don't look at the contact name. I reach to grab the phone from her hand, lock it and then place it on the nightstand. 

She looks up at me, startled by my close proximity, "What's got you looking so nervous, love?"

Her eyes soften from startle when she realizes it's me and she shakes her head as if she's shaking a thought from it simultaneously, "Nothing, I got a text from a weird number the other day, but it's probably nothing."

She sends me a reassuring smile. I search her eyes as if to see if there was something more she wasn't telling me, but I come up empty. I pull the blankets out from under her legs so she can crawl under them before doing the same. I turn off the lights and turn to face her, grabbing her by the hip and pulling her into me. 

She hesitates a moment as if it's unfamiliar territory to be chest to chest with me, before she finally melts under my touch, moving her face into my neck; my chin resting on the top of her head.

"I missed you today, too," she whispers to me.

My arms wrap tight around her at her words, knowing the level of truth to them. My hand starts to run soft lines up and down her back as her arm drapes over my hip. 

"I'm all yours tomorrow morning. I have nothing until the afternoon when we have to be at the studio," I whisper into the air between us.

She doesn't say anything further, but her instinct of tightening her grip on me tells me she heard what I said. After not having felt her touch since last night, it didn't take me long to fall asleep. As soon as she pulled my head to her chest and started running her hands through my hair, I was putty and immediately drifted off to sleep.

I exit, walking over to the door next to the bathroom and flicking on the light. A huge walk-in closet and with drawers and light wood built-in cabinets. I go out to grab my suitcase, bringing it back into the closet, filtering through the drawers until I found an empty one. I opened my suitcase and organized the clothes I brought into the wide drawer so I wasn't living out of my suitcase for the next two weeks.

I took the liberty of hanging up the few nice garments I brought with me that would otherwise wrinkle in my suitcase before grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts before going back into the bathroom and taking a shower. I towel dried my hair as best as I could before grabbing my phone and taking the opportunity to give myself a tour of the house if Harry wasn't going to do it.

The entire house was dark and moody. Dark greens and blues that seemed to mesh well together with the natural light wood accents that were littered around the entire house. There were various installments of art pieces hanging in the hallways and in the living room and formal dining room. The furniture throughout the entire first floor seemed to blend well together with the paint choices and decorations.

Unlike his home in Malibu, you could tell he took his time decorating this space. Carefully curating it to his liking. There was one thing this house had that the Malibu house did not. Clutter.

Boxes that had been delivered while he was away sitting in the foyer by the front door, unopened and untouched. Dirty shoes that were clearly used for outside use were lined on the back wall by the backdoor in one of the living rooms. Magazines thrown on the coffee table, like they were discarded after someone had finished them; or forgotten about when another task was thought of that needed to be done instead of reading.

This house seemed more loved, and more lived-in. It was more homey. Smelling like wood and vanilla. I couldn't wrap my head around the difference between the two houses. Since I've met him, he seems to spend most of his time in Los Angeles. To me, you would think that would mean the Malibu house would have more belongings, and he would have spent more time making it a home.

His house in Los Angeles was naturally more modern on the inside to match the exterior of the house. This house had more charm to it. It was a dark brick on the outside with white windows. This house had more charm and more character to it.

The vast living room had a huge L shaped sectional, a fireplace and cathedral ceilings. The far wall the couch is facing includes huge paned windows that stretch up the length of the wall, from floor to ceiling. The rain against the windows take over my senses as I find myself sitting on the couch in awe, watching it hit the glass.

As dramatic as it sounded, the rain reminded me of myself. Everything felt like it was crashing down around me in terms of where I'm currently at with Harry. Which doesn't really make sense, because when we're good, we're good. But when we're not good, we're distant, almost cold. It happens so suddenly – in the blink of an eye – and I don't notice it's happening until it's already happened. I don't know how to fix it.

The living room is dark, the only light being in the shape of outlines of the windowsills in the living room, the house lights from outside casting shadows over the floor and the couch.

My phone buzzes on the fabric of the couch next to me, breaking me from my thoughts. A picture of Willow from Lily, signifying Lily made it home and she had just picked up Willow from the boarding place. She looked happy to be home and with someone who was familiar to her again.

Familiarity is a funny thing. Something we as humans seem to crave so much of. From infancy, all we crave are familiar surroundings, something that we know could keep us safe. We continue the trend as kids when making our first friends, subconsciously picking people who's mannerisms remind us of the people we're closest to – the people who are supposed to leave the biggest impressions on us – our families. Even as teenagers and young adults, we look for familiar characteristics in romantic partners that we find familiar. Ones that we have found to like in our friends and family members.

What does all of that have to say about me? My dad being a manipulative, scheming sorry excuse for a man who ran away and left his family. Only coming back to visit his son, never once supporting us in ways we ever needed or asked him to.

My mom wasn't bad at first, she was better when my dad was around if you can believe it. When he left, though, she turned into the walking definition of a deep depression all because the one person that she had poured her heart and soul into since they were in highschool together, up and left her without a single reason. She let a man define her worth and in the end it left her battered and broken, addicted to the idea of what was left of their marriage, and other substances in the process.

My own brother even fled our home town, and his visits grew shorter and farther apart from each other as if he was distancing himself from my reality at home and me. Never giving me a reason, just saying work was getting busy or he didn't have the time off to take at that moment.

So what does all of that say about me and my current situation? My entire family was broken, literally and figuratively. My dad made sure it was broken through the divorce he served my mom with not even a week after disappearing. Each one of my family members were broken in their own ways too.

And here I am in a house in London with someone I had no plans of falling in love with, who is somewhere in this house clearly broken, and won't let me in. He won't let me fix him.

My thumbs absentmindedly thumb to my old messages and the message from last night laying on the speaker catches my eye. I open the message thread from the unknown sender.

Unknown: You and Styles, huh?

My heart beat quickened upon reading the message again bringing back my anxiety surrounding who the identity of the person was. I have yet to answer them. As soon as I read the message last night, Harry grabbed my attention and we went to the trailer and after, I just kept forgetting. 

I respond back with a simple question asking who it was to see if they would answer me. I waited a couple minutes, halfway expecting a response but there was nothing.

The rain hitting the windows acts as the perfect ambient background noise. It was like having my own sound machine in the living room with me. My eyes start to grow heavy with my head leaning on the back of the couch, but I wasn't ready to try to go to bed yet. Not without Harry in this unfamiliar house while he's upstairs on calls.

My body was still on LA time and it thought it was four in the afternoon, the perfect time to take an 'afternoon' nap even though it was ten at night in London and the city was starting to wind down for the night. I figured us going to bed the first night in London would be us lying together awake in his bed for the first night as our bodies adjusted to the time difference. But with the tension between us, it was a weird feeling of uncertainty. All I knew was that I didn't want to go to bed alone. 

I reached for a blanket on the back of the opposite side of the L shaped couch and grabbed a throw pillow before burrowing myself into the corner of the couch, letting myself sprawl out on the soft, wide cushions. I watched the patterns the slamming rain made against the living room windows as I fell asleep to the sound.

I slept longer than I thought I would, my body deciding it was a good time to recuperate from the busy weekend in the desert I had. Which actually worked in my favor given the time difference. When my eyes opened, there was the faintest hint of the sun kissing the sky outside the windows. The early morning light started to peek into the room through the massive windows.

I moved my legs to stretch slightly and I felt a resistance. I looked down my body and saw a throw pillow wedged between the back of the couch and my legs, accompanied by a blanket that was thrown messily on the couch that wasn't there before I had fallen asleep.

There's faint noise coming from the hallway. I flip over on my back as I'm met with green eyes landing on me as he enters the room.

"You're awake," Harry states more as an observation.

"I guess so."

He stops in his tracks, not moving any further into the room. His hair was styled back off his forehead perfectly. He was wearing black dress slacks and a white satin button up shirt with the top two buttons undone showing his chest and his cross necklace accompanied with my pearl chain still.

I look down at the makeshift bed that was made between my legs and the couch, the perfect size for his body to fit, "You slept out here."

He gave me a nod, his expression hard to read and unwavering, "I didn't want you to wake up in the middle of the night alone and get startled."

His eyes look awkward, darting around the room to avoid my eye contact. It makes me feel awkward and I find myself avoiding his gaze too.

He looks exhausted, like he didn't get any sleep last night. I didn't hear him come back downstairs last night. I definitely didn't hear or feel him get on the couch for bed while I was sleeping.

He moves into the living room from the base of the hallway, maneuvering around the sectional. He grabs the blanket and pillow and tosses it to the side sitting on the couch. I curl my legs closer to my body so he has room, but I stay in my lying position on my back with my legs bent at the knees toward the coffee table, hair fanning across the pillow.

He leans back against the plush couch, his arm closest to me fanning across the back of the couch. The fingers of his other hand find his lips, messing with them nervously. He doesn't have shoes on, just black dress socks. He doesn't say anything right away, just lost in thought while his fingers played with his bottom lip apprehensively. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was holding back.

I twiddle my thumbs, looking down at my lap as he looks out the windows looking over the backyard.

"It's supposed to be clearer today... the rain should be gone..." I don't say anything. I'm confused where his random statement was coming from, "Great day to go sightseeing."

"You have interviews all day," I state the obvious.

"Doesn't mean you have to be glued to my side watching me, or hulled up in this house by yourself," his eyes looked over to me for the first time since he entered the living room.

I look back down at my lap, uncomfortable with the contact, "I don't want to go alone."

He presses his lips into a thin line, my words somewhat hitting him for some reason. He looks down at his lap, slightly nodding to himself, "I'm sorry."

He had no reason to apologize for being busy. I came on this trip knowing it was strictly for work. Knowing there wasn't going to be a lot of time to spend together, or explore new places. It just wasn't what this trip was about unfortunately.

Harry speaks up a third time in a row when I don't say anything, "I won't be back until after dinner time. I can pick up something to eat on my way back?"

I nod and give him a soft smile, trying to break the awkwardness.

He looks over at me in the time to see me nod in response. He leans forward, elbows supporting his eight on his knees.

"I'll write down the number for a car service in case you want to go anywhere while I'm gone. If you need any toiletries or anything, text me a list and I'll have them delivered to the house for you. Okay?"

I nod again, "Okay."

He looks at me a beat longer before looking down at his feet and standing from the couch. He goes to the kitchen for a few minutes before resurfacing. He walks to the back of the couch, his shoes now on, clicking against the hardwood floors. He crouches down, folding his forearms over the back of the couch resting his head on them to look at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him because I thought he was leaving when he left the living room.

"You know I love you, don't you?"

My facial expression softens a bit at his words, not expecting to hear them given our current state. I give him a close-lipped smile and nod in response, "I love you."

He pats my thigh as a goodbye before standing, "The number for the car service is in the kitchen, along with a car preloaded with money for you to use so you don't have to worry about the currency difference. I'll see you tonight."

He turns and walks in the direction of what I would assume to be his garage. I can hear a door open through the kitchen and a gentle hum, confirming my assumption before the kitchen door is closed again and I'm left in silence.

No kiss, no hug.

The silence was deafening and uncomfortable. It'd be better if it was still raining outside at this point, at least then the crashing of the water against the windows and house would bring something to break the quiet. There weren't even gentle hums of appliances throughout the house, all of them being too new and quiet to create background noise from the electricity powering them.

The silence immediately made me restless. I had nothing to do, but I knew I didn't want to be cooped up in the house by myself the entire day. I flung the blanket off my body and swung my legs to the side of the couch, my toes meeting the plush rug under my feet. My back screamed out in soreness as I moved from my position on the couch all night. I stretched trying to relieve some of the pressure that had built up before standing and moving to Harry's bedroom.

I showered quickly but kept my hair dry, only brushing through it to get some of the kinks out of the waves from falling asleep with it wet. I put on some simple clothes, jean shorts and a baggy sweater with a tank underneath in case it got warmer throughout the day – not knowing how long I would be out. I skipped on makeup, there was no point if I was spending the day by myself.

Once ready, I grabbed my film camera out of my bag and found the number for the car service Harry had written for me on the counter, typing it into my phone and letting it ring to order a car. When that was taken care of, I google searched for photography shops that had dark rooms for developing films you could rent out.

I hadn't been inside a dark room in ages, mostly because I never had time. On the rare occasion I used my film camera, I just sent the film canisters out somewhere to be developed by someone else. The dark room was my safe haven so to speak though. I fell in love with them the first time I stepped foot in one in highschool for the first photography class I took. 

The minute we started touching on film photography in school, I knew it was going to be my preferred method. It always has been, even with digital being all the craze. There's just something about a picture taken on film that brings out a nostalgic feeling no matter what the picture was of. I feel like film photographs immediately draw the viewer into thinking more deeply about the photo because of the nostalgic aura film puts on pictures.

The driver arrived about twenty minutes after I called the company. It was a nice all black four-door sedan. I gave the driver the address toa coffee shop down the street from the photography business first, knowing it was way too early for them to be open yet and my head was killing me from my lack of caffeine. 

The coffee shop was quaint and small on the inside. The walls were painted with graffiti styled pictures, vibrant colors jumping out here and there from the mostly black and white muraled walls. A style of decorating that was definitely trying to appeal more towards the younger crowds. The music in the cafe was loud. A mixture of current pop and soft rock coming through the speakers as I find my spot in line. All of the baristas behind the counter had tattoos showing on their skin past their uniform to some extent. 

Their menu was extensive. A list of their simple roast blends was located on the right side of the menu, but the rest of it included more indulgent recipes. Frozen coffees with more flavors and add-ins. My eyes wandered over the different selections that were listed on the menu above me and then down to the glass display of the bakery items they offered. My senses were overloaded from all the smells, noises and choices that were before me.

"What can I get started for you?" A soft voice broke me from my thoughts on whether to get a pastry or not. I look up and see a girl my age behind the glass displaying peering over to me. Her brown hair tied in a low bun and a hat on. She smiles sweetly at me waiting for my answer.

"Uh, hi, can I get a vanilla iced coffee and a danish, please?"

She nods as she grabs a cup and writes my order on it before looking at me as if it had clicked a little late, "American?"

I gave her a closed-lipped smile, pressing my lips together, "Guilty. Just visiting for work."

She slides the cup down the line to a coworker who reads the order and gets to work while she grabs tongs and grabs my food, "What kind of work?"

"I'm a photographer," I keep it vague, praying she doesn't try to press further, but she does.

"Oh cool. What kind of photography?"

I move down the line closer to the register as she puts my pastry in the warmer, "I, um... I-I'm kind of trying to figure that out as I go I guess. Mostly portraits right now, but I've done a couple magazine jobs back home just to see what I would like to do."

Her eyes lit up and I'm not sure if it was my statement I made of trying to figure out what I want to do or if it was the word 'magazine.'

"That's so cool!" She squeals and I look down at her name tag. Bella.

"I've taken a few photography courses now, and I've fallen in love with it. It's just that the equipment is so expensive. You have to spend thousands of dollars just to get good gear for your pictures to be considered decent and worth looking at. That's why I'm here, trying to save up for something so I can get my foot in the door."

I nod my head in understanding, "I got lucky as a kid and got my first digital camera from my grandparents as a birthday present. I still have it. Without that thing, I don't think I would have made it this far honestly. What do you want to get into with photography?"

She shrugs, waiting for the timer on the warmer to go off, "I haven't figured that out either. I've been lucky enough to do some sports shooting on a rented camera from the shop down the street, but I can't afford to rent equipment very often. I like the thrill of taking action shots, but aside from sports, I don't know where that would really fall."

I smile at her, hearing the similarities between her and I, "I started out taking pictures at sporting events too. You'll get there, I'm sure of it."

Her face lights up in excitement, and a sincere smile spreads across her face, "Thank you, I hope whatever work you're here to photograph goes well..."

She slides my now warmed Danish down the line to the cashier, "Tilly, my name's Tilly."

She smiles and nods at me, "It was nice to meet you, Tilly."

I nod back before moving down the line into the cash register as she rings me up. I hand over the card from Harry and watch as she swipes it. After it's paid for, I take my coffee and pastry and head outside the coffee shop to one of the small tables outside the windows to eat while I wait for the photography shop to open.

The coffee was some of the best coffee I think I have ever had. Ruch and smooth. I kicked myself for not getting a bigger size. Although, I was also about to develop film and the added caffeine would make my hands jittery – the opposite of what you want when you're developing film.

The weather on the streets of London was pleasant. The sun was shining and getting warmer the higher it rose into the sky. There were people dressed for all different occasions walking past me, either on the phone with someone, or looking down at their phones, barely looking out for where they were going. The city was waking up for the morning, and so was I with every sip of my coffee I took.

I was closer to the middle of the city than I thought I would be. I thought I had picked a location that was closer to the outskirts of town, but I was wrong. Taller buildings surrounded me, all with ships on the street level, but on top of them were quaint apartments. Down the street from where I was there were a couple tall office buildings, which is where I was guessing where ninety percent of the people passing me on the sidewalk were headed given it was a Tuesday morning. 

The streets started to become a little less crowded around ten in the morning, which was right when the store opened for business. No one was in the quaint little shop when I entered. Just an elderly couple standing behind a display case of different cameras and lenses.

"Good morning," the woman greeted.

I smiled, "Good morning."

"Are you looking for something specific or wanting to use a dark room?" The man asked as I walked closer to the counter.

"A dark room, if you have one available today. I didn't even think to consider they might be by appointment only," I say a little embarrassed.

The woman walked around the front of the counter to meet me, "They typically are, but you're in luck. Someone canceled their reservation this morning."

She held out her hand in the direction of a door that led to a dark hallway to signal to follow her. She walks me back to a dark room.I love that the hallways leading to the dark rooms was also isolated so that I could come and go out of the room if I needed a break in between steps. She flicks on the light and shows me where all the chemicals were and the utensils I would need for my processing.

She moves back to the door, "If you need anything let us know!"

She shuts the door behind her softly. I take my film camera out of my bag and set it on the table in the middle of the room before getting the chemicals set up for the long process I had ahead of me. Developing pictures on film could be so grueling at times, but that's what I loved about it so much. You really had to take your time with it or else there were mistakes. Unlike with digital editing, you can't just hit undo with the press of a button. You'd have to start the process all over.

When my developer and other chemicals were poured in their perspective containers and the utensils I would need to use were lined up in the right place where I could find them, I switched the light off to reveal the dim red lighting that was on in the background of the fluorescents. I had to take a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the change before I grabbed my camera.

I worked the film canister out of my camera, eventually working the strip of film out of the canister itself. I cut the film into different sized strips first, making the process easier before dunking the pieces in the chemical baths to start the process. The real fun began though when the film strips were done and I was able to start developing the pictures I had taken of Harry at Coachella and put them on photo paper.

I picked a couple from the tiny squares of the film strips that I liked and thought would look good printed and got to work. This is when the process gets tedious and time consuming because each individual tub of chemicals, the photo paper has to soak in for a few minutes at a time at the very least. Even for skilled photographers, a picture usually takes between forty five minutes to an hour to complete.

That's why it was so easy for me to get lost in the dark room. It's just you and your work in the room, trying to create something just as beautiful as the moment you had wanted to capture in the first place. 

Harry made that extremely easy. He was so easy to work with and eat to capture. The way he worked the stage and the crowd was effortless, you could tell he was a natural which only made me more excited as I looked at the pictures I had chosen to print from the film strips. If they looked good in the strips, I could only imagine what their physical form was going to look like.

I printed out a couple that I had taken of Lily first, knowing she was going to want them for her bedroom and Instagram. We had taken a selfie also so I printed two of those so we could each have one as a way to remember the memorable weekend.

After that is when I moved on to the actual show. I grabbed a couple of Lizzo and Harry together, and then chose to print off one of just Harry mig-highnote looking like a true performer with the smoke from the machines surrounding him. 

My last picture was in the 'stop' bath around six in the evening. When it was done, I hung it up to dry with the others and started cleaning up my mess. Disposing of the toxic fluids properly and cleaning up my area.

I ran to the bathroom and by the time I had everything put away and my belongings were packed up, my pictures were dried. I stacked them neatly into a pike and went to the front of the store where the man and woman were cleaning up for the day.

The man smiles at me from behind the computer, "Anything turn out good?"

I smiled and nodded my head, "A lot more than I had planned. Do you have a scanner that I could scan these to a flash drive?"

He nods his head and motions for me to follow him to the back. He shows me what looked to be their personal work computer for the store. He sits down at the chair and powers on the computer for the store. He sits down at the chair and powers on the computer. I hand him the flash drive and the pictures so he can scan them for me. I picked at the skin of my nails while I waited for him to be done.

"Go to a concert recently?" His question breaks my train of thoughts and I bring my head up to the computer and see the picture of Lizzo looking at Harry while he's singing to the crowd pulled up on the computer. 

"Oh, yes... It was a blast. Just wanted some pictures to remember the show," I say.

He thankfully didn't say anything further as we waited for the pictures to finish. I take the opportunity to call the car company again so I'm not left waiting on the street for twenty minutes before one finally shows up.

When the pictures were done, the man hands me my things back and I trek behind him to the front of the store to pay for my time and materials. When everything was said and done, the car was outside and the sky was growing darker with night, the setting sun trying to disappear.

The car ride through London back to Harry's was peaceful. The driver had music playing softly in the background as he maneuvered through the streets. I just looked through the pile of pictures I had printed the entire time.

The weekend was good. It was so good, and then as if a flip switched, he changed again without a warning. I brushed off his attitude change as possible nerves because it was right before a big performance. Deep down my subconscious knew that was a naive thought for me to have. 

He didn't outwardly express that he was having nightmares, but when I pressed him about it, he didn't outwardly deny the statement either. He said he just gets like this sometimes and that it wasn't anything I did, but that's not how it felt. Both times this has happened, it's happened before there was going to be some time that we were separated from each other because of work.

He was clearly fighting something that was eating at him, and all I wanted was for him to understand that he didn't have to do it alone. That I was right here to help him in any way that I could, he just wouldn't let me in.

I had been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't realized the car had pulled up into Harry's semi circle driveway. The driver had to try a couple times to get my attention. I thanked him before gathering my things and shutting the door behind me. The house was quiet. Harry wasn't home yet. I set my bag down in the kitchen, placing the flash drive and the pictures I had worked all day on on the counter.

I went back to the bedroom and changed into my pajamas from earlier. I grabbed the bag of nail supplies from my suitcase and moved out into the living room to do my nails. As I started, I video called Lily – craving some familiar human interaction for the first time today. Maybe seeing her and Willow would pull me out of the funk I was in.

As I was laying out all of the tools I would need on the coffee table, Lily answered.

"Well, hi jetsetter!" She's wearing a big smile on her face that's infectious no matter what mood she's in.

"Hi, where's my dog?" Lily gives me a look about me immediately asking for Willow, but she turns the camera to show her laying on the other end of the couch in the living room.

I gasped in excitement at seeing her and used my shrill voice to talk through the phone as I opened a bottle of nail polish, "Hi Will!"

Lily turned the phone back to her face and rolled her eyes, "I can't stand when you talk to her like that. It's so high pitched."

My face falls unamused, "Well, deal with it, because she likes it. It's her world, we're just living in it."

Lily laughs, readjusting on the couch, "So what all have you done today on your first day in London?"

"Well, I woke up, went and got some coffee, and then went to a shop and developed film all day."

Lily's eyebrows fall, "What? I thought you were working? Tagging along to interviews and shit?"

I nodded, "I'm doing that tomorrow. Today was just radio interviews. He gave me an out. I had every intention of going but..."

Lily's face falls further, "But what? That 'but' doesn't sound good."

"Something happened on the flight here last night and he's been off since then. He was in his office the majority of the night when we got here. I fell asleep and woke up this morning on the couch. At that point he was already about to leave for his interviews so we didn't get a chance to talk and he didn't wake me up to get ready for the radio station. So it was kind of an unspoken decision that I wasn't going to go," I explain to her.

"Well, what happened on the plane?" I start to run the nail polish over my naked nails very carefully as I think back to yesterday.

"We had fallen asleep, but I had woken up because he was talking in his sleep. He seemed really disturbed so I woke him up. He was quiet the entire time from then on, until we got to the house. Then, he only said things that needed to be said like where things were when he was showing me where his bedroom and bathroom were."

"He hasn't explained anything?" Lily asks me out of pure confusion, just trying to understand the situation better.

I shake my head, "He hasn't really had the chance. I haven't been able to ask. He was dressed nad ready to go this morning when I woke up from the light in the living room. Had I not woken up, I think he would have left without telling me he was leaving."

"I'm sorry, babe. What are you doing now that you're back at the house for the night?"

"Painting my nails," I hold up my hand that had one coat on it, "and waiting for Harry to get back. Hoping he'll be in a better mood."

"He's still not back?" She asks out of pure surprise.

"No, but he had mentioned about possibly stopping and getting us food on his way back tonight so we didn't have to go anywhere, so that might be what he's doing," Lily moves the camera enough so that I can see she's wearing the bar shirt we have to wear when we work.

"Do you have a shift today?"

She nods and presses her lips into a line, "I do. I actually should probably get going so I can walk Willow before I have to leave."

I smile in appreciate for her being my best friend and always being the one who steps up when I need her to, "Thank you for taking care of her while I do this. You treat her like she's your own pet and I really appreciate that."

Lily shrugs, "Yeah, well. I live with her don't I? So she's technically partially my dog too."

We say our goodbyes, Lily showing me Willow one last time before I hang up. I get to work on my nails, carefully painting the pink polish I had chosen from the selection I had brought. 

Not too long after my call with Lily ended, I heard the door in the kitchen open signaling Harry was back. I don't get up from my spot on the living room floor. I don't greet him in the kitchen. I don't even turn around to anticipate him appearing around the corner. I stay huddled over the glass coffee table, concentrating on the lines of paint I'm creating on my nails.

There was a sound of brown paper bags moving in the kitchen and then a long pause of silence. I eventually heard his bare feet getting stuck to the wood floors and clicking as they neared the living room. The sound stops when he hits the plush carpet, walking around the sectional and sitting on the other side of the L as the one I'm leaning up against.

I peel my eyes away from the last finger I had to paint before doing top coat to find him studying the pictures I printed today in his hands. The ones I had accidentally left on the counter when I got back. His eyes take their time grazing over every detail of every physical photo, taking in the colors, the sharpness, the image itself.

His white shirt he wore for the interviews was unbuttoned all the way down, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing more of his tattoos. His cross fell to his chest between the sparrows. His belt was off, discarded somewhere unknown to me. His hair wasn't as gelled to perfection as it was this morning. Some strands had fallen with the events of the day and they had fallen over his forehead into his eyes.

He looks up while I'm still looking at him and my eyes instinctively dark back to my hands.

He leans forward and puts the pictures on the coffee table. He folds one knee under him on the couch, his left arm stretched over the back of the couch, his left side leaning against the back cushion.

"Hi," His voice was barely above a whisper as I opened my bottle of top coat. I don't make eye contact with him after my eyes look away from him so abruptly.

"Hi."

He's quiet for a beat, watching me as I paint the clear liquid over my fingers. As I near my last finger, he speaks again, "Can we talk?"

Something in my freezes. I've wanted to talk since he woke up on the plane last night. I've wanted to talk since we first walked into this house and the air was heavy and stale between us. I've wanted to talk since this morning when I woke up in the same spot on the couch I fell asleep in to find out he slept out here with me.

That key detail, that he slept on the couch with me because he didn't want me to be alone was the sole detail that I was holding onto. Because it was the sole detail that was holding my thoughts about us together. That wasn't pushing thoughts about him having second opinions about us into my head.

As badly as I wanted to talk to him about everything, I wasn't ready to have the uncomfortable conversation that I thought it was going to be. I finished my fingers and closed the bottles tightly before leaning fully against the back of the couch and blow drying the wet polish with my mouth as I nodded in response.

He brings his fingers and nervously fidgets with his bottom lip, not knowing how to start the conversation. I look over his apprehensive features as he looks off to the side trying to will the right words to come to him. I don't say anything. This wasn't my conversation to have, or to start. I wasn't the one that needed to explain their recent behavior.

He starts to open his mouth to say something, and just as he does, his phone starts going off in his pocket. His face falls and he sighs out a frustrated sigh as his hands move to grab it out of his slacks. He looks over the screen at who it is and furrows his brows, then looks up at me with an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this." He waits for me to say something but I have nothing to say. I press my lips into a line and nod, looking back at the mess of things that I had made on the coffee table, starting to pick them up. 

Of course he has to take a call right now.

He stands from the couch, "I brought back dinner. Get started without me, this shouldn't take too long."

He reluctantly stands from his spot on the couch and goes to the stairs. Only holding his phone to his ear when he's halfway up the stairs and I can't hear him.

I slip out of bed and move to the door, opening it slightly to lean against the frame. Covering my arms over my chest at the feeling of the breeze hitting me more fully now that I was outside. Harry hears the door open more and looks over his shoulder at me.

"I've got to go, Mum. We're about to leave... Yes, I'll send you the livestream. I love you." He hangs up the call and stands to his feet looking at me. I raise an eyebrow, "Talking to your mom about me already?"

"I'm sorry... I told you there were going to be pictures and people were going to talk after last night..." He rubs a hand to the back of his neck. He still wears exhaustion on his face from the last few nights of little sleep that he's had, but he looks better this morning despite the early hour. Not his normal, but better than before.

"I know, I'm aware," I take a step onto the balcony. I step right in front of him and wrap my arms around his torso, looking up at his eyes. My tone is suggestive, "Sometimes when we're out in public, the craving of your touch that I get is just too strong to ignore."

Harry tilts his head at me, a smirk making itself known, "Oh, yeah?"

I nod, biting my lip trying to fight the smirk that was creeping its way onto mine. He holds my face with both hands, pulling me to meet his lips, moving us in sync. His fingertips on the back of my neck grip and tangle into my hair. I let my hands wander down slightly to the waist of his gym shorts, finding the band. Just as my fingers graze the skin of his abdomen, he relinquishes the kiss and steps around me.

"As much as I want to stay and experience what I think will happen next, I wasn't lying when I told my mum that I have to go. The car is waiting for me outside."

I let out a frustrated groan, reaching for his wrist as I step over the threshold of the door in to the bedroom. He spins around to me on his heel. As soon as he's facing me, I take his face in between my hands and kiss him feverishly. His hands wrap around my waist, fingertips digging into my skin through his t-shirt from yesterday that I was wearing, the fabric bunching up a bit around my hips.

He pulls back again, but not before I take his lower lip between my teeth, dragging it gently before letting it go. My actions warrant a moan from him, and he chuckles lightly at the realization of what I'm doing to him, sending the bottom of my stomach into a frenzy.

He pushes his forehead against mine, pressing my chest to his at the same time, "You're going to drive me crazy."

I wrap my arms around his neck and get on the tops of toes so our eyes are more level, "How's insanity sound?"

He hums, a smile forming on his mouth, "Devine."

He plants a kiss on my lips one more time before kissing my nose and then my forehead.

He brushes our noses together. "Y'know I love you, right?"

I nod my head against his, "I do. I love you too."

Planting one final kiss to my cheek, he bends down by the door, grabs his bag of essentials, and opens the door before exiting and shutting it softly behind him. I went back to sleep for a couple hours after he left – until Lily came bounding into the room two hours later squealing about the day we had ahead of us. When I was awake, she rolled off of me and leaned against the headboard on Harry's side of the bed.

"So, there were some pictures posted of you two from last night..."

I cover my face with the blankets, "I don't want to see them, and I don't want to hear what they've written about me."

Lily peels the blankets back from my face, "Relax, I'm not going to show you. I'm only saying it because the two of you are hot together."

"Yeah, right. I had literally just rolled out of bed before getting there, Lil. I highly doubt that."

"I don't think that matters. I mean... he's, him, sure. He's hot without trying, but the two of you complement each other so well."

I sit up from the bed, leaning forward and stretching my shoulders, "Alright, I'm done with this conversation. You've officially lost it."

I throw the blankets off of me and I move to push myself out of bed. Lily grabs my wrist and pulls me back to the bed.

"Tils, it's not just physical aesthetics when it comes to you two. I can see the effect he has on you. I've seen you around the guys you've gone out with, and... you're just different when you're around him. You seem comfortable, which is new for me to see," she grabs my hands when she's talking to me, being sincere.

I smile and nod my head, "He's safe, Lily. And not the safe that people describe as a last resort, or settling in a relationship. The kind of safety that I know I can be myself. The kind of safety I know comes with no judgement to be myself."

She squeezes my hands and gives me a sincere smile, "I'm happy for you, babe. I really am. I think he's really good for you."

She pulls my wrists and pulls me out of bed, "Now, we have a music festival to get ready for!"

We spent far too long getting ready for an event that was outside in the SoCal heat that would inevitably cause our makeup to crease and our hair to fall – in my opinion. But I knew Lily was living in her element, and I didn't want to be the one to take that away from her. So, I stayed silent and let her do her thing. Let her do what she wanted to me until she considered me ready for the day.

I sat on her bed in her room for a while, eating yogurt and watching her do her fashion show of outfits she had brought. Between trying things on, she reaches into her suitcase and threw a nude, shimmery, netted outfit to me. It was so small it looked like she had ordered it for a child.

"Um, what the hell is this?" I asked.

"Your outfit, babe. I was going to wear it today, but now that you guys were photographed snuggled up last night, you have to look hot. Especially if you're dating the main act of the night. Eyes are going to be on you and him today."

A pit forms in my stomach and I roll my eyes trying to ignore it and her last sentence, "It doesn't look like it'll cover my thigh."

"You're going to be fine. You'll be thanking me later when it's a thousand degrees."

I go into my room across the hall to change into the outfit before putting on a necklace, and then opening the door to go back to Lily's room. She squeals and claps her hands together. She hands me some black combat boots to complete the look.

I turn to Lily when the outfit's done. She's dressed in ripped denim shorts with a silver chain as a belt, a white bandeau top with a sheer, glittery long sleep over it and black calf heigh boots that look like they were bound to give her blisters later. 

She spins me around to the mirror so I can study myself as she fluffs up the soft waves she had put in my hair. I immediately start fidgeting with the short skirt and the hem of the crop top, although I don't know why. The mesh fabric left little to the imagination, revealing the borderline underwear that was actually covering me underneath.

"You're a stunner. He's not going to know what hit him."

I barely had time to grab my camera gear before she was dragging me out of the house and to the car parked outside for us. By the time we left the house it was almost noon. Harry wasn't scheduled to hit the stage until around eight.

When we were dropped off, we walked around a bit, Lily holding my hand and pulling me through the crowded spaces, clueless of where she was leading me. As we're walking – no, borderline running – and weaving through the crowd, I did find myself quietly thanking Lily for the cooler outfit option of the two. The sun was aggressively beating down on us and all of the shaded areas were overcrowded with people trying to seek refuge.

Lily brings us to the mainstage that we were at the night before, but we stayed to the back on the outskirts of the crowd. She wanted to see who was playing first before we went to find the band. I told her we didn't have to find them until after the performance, but she insisted. Said she couldn't wait to see the look on Harry's face. 

After she decided the look on his face was more important than the performance currently happening, she grabs my hand and pulls me to the side of the stage that's roped off. We flash our lanyards and I start taking the lead, her following me to Harry's trailer. Boyish laughter and hollering can be heard on the other end of the door and I almost think he won't be able to hear it. Just as the thought crosses my mind, the door swings open revealing Mitch still in his clothes he must've left the house with.

His face lights up at the sight of us and moves, allowing us to enter. He's the only one in the common area, "Who was making all that noise in here if it's just you?"

Mitch sits on one of the couches and nods to the closed door in the back of the trailer, "H is in the back trying on his outfit for tonight... Harry! Tils and Lily are here!"

"Send Tilly back here!" I hear Harry call from the closed door. I walk down the aisle between the couches and tap on the door lightly, "It's open."

Harry's voice is deep and husky. I open the door, stepping into the room, realizing it's a dressing room, fitted with a small couch, a vanity with a lighted mirror and a chair. As I step in, Harry's in the middle of getting dressed, I catch a glimpse of him pulling up his sport shorts just as it covers his briefs. He turns to me.

His green eyes rake over my body, slow and methodical. His jaw tenses, revealing a jawline that could cut glass before his eyes meet mine again. I mess with the hem of the skirt and the crop top, trying to cover my body with as much of the fabric as I could. Again, pointless, I know.

"It was supposed to be Lily's but she told me I had to wear it," I explain.

Harry closes the space between us, doing a once over on me again as he does before he places a hand on my hip. I can feel the touch of his fingertips through the openings of my mesh skirt. He leans in to plant a kiss on my cheek.

"You look incredible, baby."

"Thank you," my voice comes out quieter than I meant it to as his fingers lingered on my hip.

He looks down from my eyes slightly and notices my necklace. His hand that was on my hip moves to my necklace and rolls the chain and the small pearls in his fingers, "I've never seen you wear this before."

"I don't wear it very often, it has too much sentimental value, I don't want to risk losing it," his eyes lock with mine, "It was a birthday present from Oliver... before he passed."

He looks back down at it again, "It's very pretty."

He kisses my cheek again before turning around and sitting in the chair, spinning it around as I sit on the couch behind it. He runs his hand through his hair, sighing an exasperated sigh. I furrow my eyebrows together, feeling the energy in the room shift violently, "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, "I think it's just now hitting me that it's going to be my first performance since Oliver's accident. The first time I'll be performing the songs he and Mitch helped me with."

I frowned slightly, hearing the pain in his voice. The lining of his eyes turn red and his eyes grow glossy, tears brimming them, "Oh, Harry."

I move from my spot on the couch as he leans forward, cradling his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His shoulders move as he hides his sobs from me into his hands. I crouch down in front of him, gently placing my hands on his wrist. I try to move his hands away, but he fights me.

"Babe..."

He softens, eventually moving his hand away and looking at me. There's streaks on his cheeks from his tears. He looks broken again; lost. I stand, bringing his wrists with me, pulling him from the chair and bringing him a few steps behind me to the couch, wrapping my arms around him.

"He wouldn't want you to be sulking over this right now. He would be so proud of you," I place my hand on his face, looking over his somber features. He had clearly been holding onto these thoughts and emotions for a while for them to surface randomly at a time like this, as soon as I walk in the door and he sees my necklace.

He squeezes his eyes shut, "I know, they're just thoughts that I can't shake. That he should be here to witness his songs at the final stage. He was there for the entire process. Some of them won awards that he doesn't know about."

I pull his head into my chest which causes his arms to clasp around my back, "He knows, Harry. He knows. Trust me. He knows about all of it. He knows how they're resonating with people. Babe, he is probably over the moon about his songs being performed at Coachella right now. And you're the one that's making it happen. You're the one that gets to put them out into the world for them to feel the emotions they inevitably stir.

"They're not just his songs. They're just as much yours as they are his. You put the same amount of blood sweat and tears into that album as he did."

I pull away from him before reaching my hands behind my neck. I keep my eyes on his as he watches my hands unclasp my necklace and slowly lower it from my neck. He wipes one of his eyes with the back of his hand. I wait until he pulls it away before reaching my hands to his neck, still holding the necklace. His eyes don't leave mine as I clasp the metal ends together, letting it fall into place on his chest above his cross chain.

"Tilly–"

I shake my head, placing my hand on his bare chest to stop him, "I'll be with you tonight, and so will he. He's proud of you, Harry – and so am I."

His eyes brim again with tears just as they were starting to dry as he looks at me, appreciation evident in his eyes. He sweeps me onto his lap, my legs on either side. Taking my face in his hands he presses a gentle kiss on my lips. I pull away when I feel his tears run to our conjoined lips and I pull him to me.

"Thank you," his voice is broken, but his appreciation is obvious as he speaks into my chest.

"I wish I could feel how you feel, and look at things like how you do." His words felt so out of context, that I was a little shocked by them.

I cock my head at him, "What do you mean?"

"It's so easy for you to compartmentalize anymore. I wish I could do that – store something away when it's a hindrance and bring it back out when I'm ready to deal with it. If I could put a price on emotions, I'd spend any amount to feel something other than how I am right now before one of the biggest performances of my life."

I frown a bit at his words, "Are you nervous? Or just upset that Oliver isn't here to witness it?"

"I was, but m'not anymore."

"Why? Because I'm here?" I tease, expecting it to be for a different reason. 

He nods his head matter of factly before wiping the wetness from his cheeks, "Obviously. I'm gonna like being able to look over and see you in the crowd whenever I want. You might have to come to every show after this one. Don't know if I'll be able to perform again without you being on the side of the stage."

He pulls back from my chest, but clasps his hands behind my back after wiping my cheeks. I roll my eyes jokingly, "You can and you will. It's unrealistic for me to come to every show if you tour."

"When I tour."

I raise an eyebrow at him, "After stories of the band, I would have thought you have relaxed on the idea of touring a little. Maybe combine a couple albums into the same tour?"

"As hard as it is to remember Ollie isn't here, being here – getting ready – is starting to cause me to miss it. The feeling, the places. Seeing the fans," he shrugs, "I don't know. Jeffrey was talking to me about it a little bit, getting it in my head and it got me thinking that maybe I should do a tour. I haven't toured for my debut yet."

I smile at him and tilt my head in awe, "Your loyalty and dedication to your fans is inspiring."

He shrugs it off as if it's no big deal, "I owe them everything. I wouldn't be here without them, especially if it wasn't for their dedication."

I smile. I love witnessing him like this. Humble, down to earth. He has the world at his fingertips, raw talent coursing through him that everyone in the world can see whether they want to admit it or not. Yet, he still says the reason for his success is because of someone else.

"You know you deserve every good thing that has happened to you, right?" 

Harry's eyes flick up to mine, seemingly glowing from the lighting in the room from the mirror, causing my breath to hitch, "I'm starting to, thanks to you."

He notices my bag on the floor next to the couch and he nods to it, "I told you to enjoy the weekend this weekend. Why did you bring your bag?"

I smile giving him a knowing look, "And I told you that photography isn't just work for me. It's an outlet and something I enjoy doing, even outside of work assignments. It's about capturing memories to me, not just collecting a paycheck."

He nods his head, running circles on the bare patch of my back that exposed from my outfit, "Okay, as long as you promise me to not let it burn you out. Working in the same profession as your hobby, I mean."

"Is that spoken from a place of experience?"

"Maybe... Maybe a place of almost experience," He says.

I take his hands in mine, "I don't think that could ever happen."

Harry and I joined Lily and Mitch at the front of the trailer for a couple hours before he eventually went to take a shower. I waited for him to be done in the back room, checking the batteries and the settings of my different cameras. Mitch and Lily wandered off to go get some food and to find Sarah. Harry surfaced from the bathroom right before his team got to the trailer. He surfaced in his Calvin Klein's, opening the door nonchalantly as if he wasn't traipsing around the trailer in his underwear for everyone to see.

He spoke to the team for a beat about what he was envisioning for his look for the night before sitting in the chair. All I could do was soak up the printed ink showing around his body given his lack of clothing, some of which I was seeing or noticing for the first time. He was beautiful, sitting in the chair as they got to work, effortlessly holding conversation with them, catching up since he saw them for his last interview that was weeks ago.

I loved watching him in his element. As unsure and insecure as he was in himself at the present moment, you would have never guessed when he was interacting with other people. It was a side of him that he has only let me into, something only I knew about, and he hid it well when it came time to. My heart swells. He's quiet, and he's guarded. A tough shell to crack, but he slowly breaks his shell for me, letting me in on little complex pieces of the puzzle that make up Harry Styles.

Harry sits on the chair as his hair gets styled, he throws a towel loosely over his lap with his arms crossed looking in the mirror. I bring my DSLR up to my face, centering him in the viewfinder and get his attention over the low hair dryer. Right when he looks at me I take a test photo. It was only supposed to be a test photo, but I knew by just a glance it was going to be one of my favorites.

We had an hour after he was finished getting ready before he had to go backstage. At that point it was almost seven, Lily and Mitch had come back to the trailer with Sarah. Both of them dressed and ready for the show. Harry got dressed quickly, taking a final look at himself in the mirror, adjusting the vest and his matching jacket so it was more comfortable.

I stepped next to him, wrapping my arms around him at his side, but my eyes trained on him through the mirror, smiling at what I see. He was radiant. I lean my head on him as his arm wraps around me in a side hug, looking back at me in the mirror.

"What?"

"I told you pink was your color."

He laughs, squeezing me to him so he could reach the top of my head, planting a kiss on it. He grabs his phone and my hand before leading us to the front of the trailer. We lead the way out, and to the backstage area hand in hand, Lily falling instep on the other side of me.

Lily and I stayed with Harry until his vocal coach came around to talk him through the setlist that he had been practicing. That's when he kissed me quickly and told me we should go get our spot in the crowd.

We were shown to the spot in the audience before being roped in and I got my camera out to test the settings with the lighting from the sun setting. The two acts before Harry were good. Lily gets us drinks and we were feeling ourselves by the time the stage went completely black and one of Harry's videos started playing on the screen. The music started, and the lights went up revealing him at the top of the staircases behind the band just like last weekend. 

My heart starts to race as I switch to my film camera. He runs down the stairs and as soon as he gets to the mark, he immediately goes into the lyrics of the song. It's unlike anything I have ever heard him sing. The rock feel it gave off made the crowd go electric. A drum solo sounds in the middle of the song before the bridge and he slowly starts taking off his jacket revealing the vest. He throws it up in the air and goes back to singing.

When the song is almost over, Lily lets me know the song was called Kiwi and I snickered to myself. Why name a song that sounds like it would be badass to ride a motorcycle to, after a fruit?

The next song was Woman, and I almost lost hearing from Lily screaming. It was another rock song that had an angst and longing feel behind it. It was slower than Kiwi. allowing Harry's vocals to shine through more than they did in Kiwi. You could hear him do runs with his voice and that's what I loved hearing the most.

The song ends, Harry walks back by the drum set, gets a drink of water and then returns to the mic, "Coachella how are we feeling?!"

The crowd erupts, Lily and I hollering for support, feeding off the crowds energy.

"We're going to keep it slow for one more song before playing a favorite. I just thought Coachella was the best place to play a brand new, never been-heard song. Is that alright with you?!" Lily loses her mind and looks at me to see if to ask if I knew about this or not, but I'm hanging onto the barricade wondering if it's one I've heard or if he wrote a brand new one just for this show.

"This one is called Falling." My breath hitches in my throat as Sarah and the rest of the vocalists make their way to center stage next to Harry before the music starts. The familiar piano chords from the studio after our first trip to Arizona begin to play.

"I'm in my bed, and you're not here..."

I put my camera down, overtaken my immediate emotion by hearing the song live for the first time. Hearing the emotion live for the first time from a stage rather than an almost empty studio. I heard him record it in the studio, but that was just the first run through. I figured he would need to tweak things before it was finished and ready to be performed.

I lean against the barricade for support, my eyes brimming with tears. The crowd is silent, as if they're hanging onto every lyric and every second of the new performance. Feeling the weight that the song carries. Lily sees me and rubs circles on my back before keeping her arm wrapped around my shoulders to provide comfort, never questioning the meaning it held for me, but I'm sure her head was asking a million questions. 

He sings it with such raw emotion, only glancing at me a few times, but I could tell he was singing it, not for me, but at me – like it was some kind of message he was trying to deliver to me – which only intensified my reaction. The last time he glances at me, I pick up my camera and take a picture. This was a moment that had to be documented. If not for social media, for me. For us.

He supposedly sang another unreleased song next. The stage was dark pink and videos on the screen were of him and the band live on stage, but there were flashes of pink and an effect that made the frames lag a bit to match the angsty rock vibe it was giving off again. When lily told me it was called Medicine I immediately recognized it. Only from the couple of times I had heard Harry and Mitch arguing about why it hadn't been included on the debut album. He had never played it for me, but I loved how suggestive it was with the lyrics.

When it was over, Harry moved to the side of the stage while all the lights were out for a moment. When they came back up, he was moving towards the catwalk with a pink feathery coat moving towards the guest singer who was dressed in all pink with a dark pink coat to match. Lizzo. 

     She starts singing on the catwalk as Harry is walking to her and Lily squeezes my arm so hard from shock, it felt like she was cutting off my circulation. They start dueting I will Survive and the crowd erupts into more drunken screams and cheers. Their stage presence and interactions were what made the whole show. Harry caught a pair of heart sunglasses while he was singing at one point and put them on his face, acting like a true diva. I could tell how free he felt being on stage, not caring what other people thought for once. 

They sang an old song from when Harry was in the band. As I'm sure you could guess, Lily screamed the lyrics and relived her girlhood all over again right next to me for the entirety of the song. Halfway through the last song, someone from the security team came and escorted us backstage which was crowded with stage crew trying to get a jump on tearing some stuff down, making it harder to weave in and out of the people.

Harry was already done performing and off the stage with the rest of the band as we neared their area. Hollering and cheers could be heard as we drew closer, people patting Harry on the back, exchanging hugs. His back was to us as we neared the group but Mitch caught sight of us and gave an overexaggerated wave causing Harry to turn around to see who he was waving to.

Harry looks at Lily, who's trying to get her last story to post with the severely bad cell signal that's around us as we walk, then his eyes flick to me, something igniting in them that I had never seen before. He wears the biggest smile on his face, showing all his teeth and he jogs the rest of the way to me, leaving the group.

I don't know if it was the sight of me, or the leftover adrenaline from performing but he seemed to have a random burst of energy. He picked me up, arms wrapped completely around my abdomen, spinning me around. The unexpected movement next to her causes Lily to stumble as she looks up from her phone to see what's happening. 

Harry puts me back down gently, both of us trying to get our bearings after his spinning. He looks in my eyes as if he's waiting for a reaction, or feedback but I still haven't found words to describe seeing him perform for the first time. To be honest, my mind still hadn't caught up from him singing Falling and Lizzo appearing on the catwalk. 

"You did so good, H." He smiles back at me, beaming from both the lights hitting the beads of sweat glittering his body, and the high that he had yet to come down from. He kisses my cheek, wrapping one of his arms around my waist. 

"Harry!" The sound of a new, unfamiliar voice ringing behind me makes me want to remove his touch from me for a split second. But I feel the force of which he holds me tighten a bit at the volume in which it rang through the space we were standing in, just to relax again when he looks past me and sees who it is. 

He lets go and moves past me, arms outstretched to hug Lizzo. She's wearing a proud smile, "Congratulations, honey. You did absolutely amazing."

They release and Harry brings his hands to his mouth and blows her a kiss, "I should be thanking you, you made that performance unforgettable. That was so much fun."

Lizzo's gaze meets mine and her face lights up looking between me and Harry for a moment before stretching out her arms to me. 

"Is this her?!" she asks Harry and he gives her a nod before turning back to me so he's facing the both of us, dawning a somewhat proud smile.

I give her an awkward hug back, "Matilda, Harry has told me so much about you, I feel like I've already met you."

I gave a suggestive look at Harry after pulling back from the hug, "Oh, has he?"

Lizzo laughs, "He hasn't shut up about you. I don't think there wasn't a single Coachella meeting, rehearsal, soundcheck or runthrough that he didn't mention you at least once."

Her words cause me to blush, and Harry lets out a somewhat awkward laugh, almost afraid that I'll get scared off by what she's saying. Lizzo sees my film camera hanging around my neck, "You do photography?"

I shrug, "I dabble a bit–"

"She does more than just dabble. Tilly does it professionally," Harry is standing next to me now, and he looks at me locking eyes with mine as he says it almost to try to get me to believe it, "You should see her work, she's phenomenal. She's behind all the behind the scenes pictures on my accounts as of late."

Lizzo's eyes light up, "Those are you?! Those are phenomenal! Everytime I see one I always think to myself how excited I was to see you do performances too. I knew you were going to crush them. Did you get any good ones tonight?"

I shrug my shoulders a bit, "It's a little too early to tell. Some I got on film and that'll take a couple weeks. The digital ones will have to be edited and everything too."

"Well, if they end up being good, I'd be willing to buy some off you so I can post about tonight. It was incredible. You'd get credit of course"

Harry's arm swings around to my waist again, after he watched my whole exchange with Lizzo, "When they're ready, I'll have Jeff send them over to your people and arrange everything, sound good?"

Did he just make a business deal for me?

Lizzo nodded, hugging Harry goodbye and giving me a wave before heading off to her trailer. By the time our encounter had ended, most of the band had filtered out, Lily was sitting with Mitch and Sarah on a pair of speakers. I walk over to them when Harry gets wrapped up in a conversation with someone.

"Tilly, are you almost ready to head out? I'm exhausted," Lily's face was wearing exhaustion from the long day we had. She looked like she could fall asleep on the speaker at any moment.

I turn over my shoulder at Harry before turning back to her, "Do you mind if I wait here for Harry instead of coming back with you?"

She sits up a little bit, raising an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. I shake my head denying anything that she thought was going to happen from me staying and she smiles deviously, "That's fine," she turns to Mitch and Sarah, "Do you guys care if I third wheel in your car to the house?"

They shook their heads and eventually headed out. When I turned around, Harry was deep in a conversation with someone different than before and I sigh, knowing we weren't going to get out of there in a timely manner. He still had to shower before we left, his performance left him a sweaty mess. 

I take a seat on the speaker Lily was just sitting on and curl up to lay down, pulling out my phone to check it. I hadn't checked it before we left and my notification list seemed to be a bottomless pit with no end in sight. Emails, texts from Brian. Two missed calls from an unknown number and then...

A missed text from the same number.

I unlock my phone and click the thread, the white screen blinding my eyes as it opens the message.

Unknown: You and Styles, huh? 2 hrs ago

I got a sickening feeling in my stomach after reading the message. An unknown number, that clearly knew who I was, messaging me about him and I? I closed out the messages and locked my phone as fast as I could before thinking, as if that was going to make the issue disappear. I tuck my hand under my cheek, trying not to completely spiral from one single text message. 

I had emails from Bryan that needed to be answered and text updates about Willow from the place she was boarded at until Lily got home, but I wasn't able to focus on anything except the unknown texter.

"There you are. Ready to go, sunshine?" Harry breaks me from my thoughts, his voice smooth and deep. He takes a look around and doesn't see anyone else from the band, "Did everyone leave?"

I sat up from my laying position and nodded my head, "They were tired. Lily rode back with Mitch and Sarah."

"What about you? You're laying down on a speaker because you aren't tired?" He teases, grabbing my hands and pulling me to my feet.

"I've never been more exhausted in my life, I just wanted more time with you," I say, trying to rub the tired burn from my eyes.

He smiles, exhaling a chuckle through his mouth as he does, brushing some of my loose hair behind my ears, "C'mon, love."

He takes my hand, spinning us around to walk us in the right direction towards the trailers. We were stopped a couple times on our way there, mostly crew members or other performers wanting to tell him know how great he was in passing.

Upon reaching the trailer, I dropped my belongings on one couch and kicked off my boots before collapsing on the other couch. Harry chuckles and sits across from me, using his hands to take off his silver boots with precisional movements. He stands from the couch before bending over my couch and planting a kiss on my forehead. He walks into the back room and then resurfaces again holding clothes. He holds them out to me and I take them.

"Thought you'd want to be more comfortable. I need to take a shower and then we can go back to the house." He gives me a soft smile and I nod back at him as a thank you.

He disappears into the bathroom, taking a quick shower. I change in between the couches, too tired to move back to the dressing room, and assuming no one else was around to walk in on me. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, he walks over to my couch and lowers himself on top of me, his head falling on my chest, his arms wrapping around me, and his weight and body heat swallowing me like a comforting blanket from the blasting air conditioning. He was looking at the other wall of the trailer, making only the top of his head visible to me and the view of his eyelashes fluttering every time he blinked. I ran a hand through his messy, towel dried hair, brushing the strands off his forehead, soft curls brushing between my fingers.

"You did really well tonight," I managed to get out past my racing thoughts.

He readjusts his head but doesn't look at me, his eyes stay trained on the opposite wall, "Thank you, baby."

Silence spills out into the air between us, but it's comfortable. Until he suddenly speaks first, catching me off guard. His voice is soft, delicate. Like he's trying to dance around a subject with me.

"I saw you crying in the crowd tonight."

Something falls to the depths of my stomach at his words. He was never supposed to see, although I wasn't necessarily trying to hide it. I'm sure some people must have seen me and took pictures. My heartbeat quickens when I realize some time has passed and I hadn't said anything in response yet. I ignore his statement.

"When we were on the beach behind your house... the night you recorded Falling in the studio, you told me what the meaning was behind it. Do you remember what you said?" I train my eyes to the ceiling waiting for his response.

"I do," he pauses, but doesn't move. Just waits before he continues, "I said it was about a couple different things, but it was mostly about you."

My heartbeat quickens, my eyes stay on the ceiling, my hand still raking through his hair, "What does it really mean to you?"

Harry sighs and lifts his head, reading his chin on my ribcage to look up at me. His movement catches me off guard so I look away from the ceiling. His eyes shine a pale green color from the dim light coming from the lamp Harry had turned on when we got in.

"You told me you were falling in love with me, what? Two weeks ago? But you recorded the song a month or so ago?" I asked, trying to clarify my question.

He nods, his arms are wrapped around me but his hands are under my back, palms pressed flat to my body up the back of my shoulders. "I did, I wrote the song before I told you I was falling in love with you. By the time I had finally told you, I was already in love with you. I realized I was when I wrote the song. It was written as a way to process my feelings. While I was falling in love with you, I was dealing with the thought of never getting to be near you again because of what happened on the trip and being in no contact. I was processing my fear. I felt like I was falling into this repeated cycle of getting sucked into you and everything I was starting to love about you only for reality to creep in and crush me."

"I've been in love with you a lot longer than two weeks, sunshine," He sighs the sentence out in one breath.

I shook my head, furrowing my eyebrows slightly while my hand ran in his hair on the side of his head, his eyes fluttering slightly closed as I do, "Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I wasn't ready to tell you then. You had all these complex things going on at the time, I was still getting to know you better. I didn't want to add to the complexity of it by including feelings that didn't need to be there yet. I was afraid it was only going to stress you out even more. It happened so soon I didn't want to scare you. Honestly, it scared me."

"That was really considerate of you," but it doesn't make the fact that he suffered and battled his feelings in silence when it concerned me better, "But... from now on please promise me that you'll talk to me if something is bothering you. Open communication. I don't want you sitting and stewing over something that could easily be fixed by talking."

He looks down, his eyes averting mine as if I was scolding him. I press my palm to his face to get him to look at me, "Especially nightmares."

Something similar to fear flashes behind his eyes, but it's gone before I can react. 

He brings one of his hands out from under my back and reaches for mine that's on the side of his head. He pulls my hand to his lips, "I promise."

Harry pushes his weight off me before giving me a quick kiss and then pulls me up by my hands. 

"I called the car when I got out of the shower. They should be waiting for us outside. You ready to go?" I smile and nod, the sound of getting into bed has never sounded better to me than this moment.

I fell asleep on the drive back to the house using Harry's lap as a pillow. He led me quietly through the house to the bedroom, everyone else in the house already asleep from the long and successful day they had.

Harry and I got up early the next morning for our next flight to London. Lily was up at the same time. She was riding with us to the airport to go back to Los Angeles. I hugged her tight outside the front of the airport, knowing it was going to be a while until I see her again.

"Send me pictures of Willow everyday please..."

"I will." She would reassure me.

"Please water the plants sometime this week, I don't want to come back home and they're all dead."

"They won't." She'd reassure me again. When she released our hug, she places her hands on my upper arms, holding me still in front of her and looking at me with sincerity, "You're about to travel the world for the first time, Tilly. Don't worry about things at home. Have the time of your life."

I smiled and nodded, Harry came up to us holding mine and his luggage in his hand ready to lead me away to our plane. I turn back to Lily, "I love you, text me when you get home."

She smiled and told me she would. Said she would send a picture of Willow as soon as she did.

Take off for our flight to London was smooth given the clear morning outside our window. As soon as we were able to get up, I pulled Harry from his seat and took him over to the couch so I could lay with him. He held me tight to his chest as I laid on him, tapping my fingers that were on his arm to the beat of his heart. He was absentmindedly scrolling through emails that he might have missed during the chaos of the weekend when his mom's contact picture flashes on his phone. 

He hits ignore.

My head shot up at him, giving him a questioning look. "What?"

"You just sent your mother to voicemail."

He nodded, looking back at his phone, scrolling again.

"Because I can call her when we land."

Her contact appears on the screen and he hits ignore, again.

His jaw tenses and I know he's hiding something from me. I give him a soft glare, cocking my head in his direction. "We said open communication, remember?"

He laughs and exhales a sigh. "Okay... She's probably calling because she wants to know about our plans while we're in Europe."

I raise an eyebrow waiting for him to go on, "She wants us to visit."

My eyes practically bulge out of my head, "Us?"

    "Harry... wake up," His eyes shoot open unexpectedly causing me to gasp in response. The fear in his green eyes send a shock and a chill down my spine enough to make me freeze. His eyes search mine, gathering his environment and realizing who I am. When he does, he puts his hand on my face.

    "Tilly..." His voice is weak, he's out of breath. Chest rising and falling with such force under my body that it caused me to move up and down with it. He closes his eyes as he breathes out a sigh of relief.

    I gently brush some more pieces of his hair off his forehead, "What's wrong? What's going on?"

    His eyes change the second I ask, almost like they've hardened to put a protective barrier. He screws his eyes shut a second then gets up, brushing me off of him and back onto the bed, "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

    He stumbles his way to the bathroom across the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and his pointer finger before shutting the door. I sit back against the headboard, pulling the comforter up to my chest, watching his shadow dance in the light shining under the bathroom door. He's pacing.

    He stays in the bathroom a while longer. He never actually used the bathroom. Just paced\s and mumbles some things to himself that I couldn't hear. I'm picking at my cuticles when he resurfaces from the bathroom, but instead of coming back to bed, he grabs something from his suitcase and steps out onto the balcony, looking out over the side yard of the house. He was fighting something again, and this time it wasn't sleep – which only concerned me more because I knew all too well that the worst battles we have to fight are after we've woken up.

    I fling the blankets off me, slowly moving towards the door. He doesn't look behind him when I slide it open. Nor does he turn to look at me when I lean against the balcony railing, my back to the view he's facing. He just brings the joint to his lips in a repeated, practiced fashion; the fingers of his free hand tapping on the metal. His eyes wide and staring at nothing off into the distance, not blinking for a second. He was disassociating, but I was scared to try to bring him out of it. Afraid it would scare him more than the images and scenes that he was seeing were. 

    I don't say a word. I stand there, crossing my arms and looking down at my feet, ready to intervene if things got bad. He continues to bring the joint to his mouth, but his gaze doesn't break from the horizon and his lack of awareness of his surroundings begin to scare me even more.

    "H..."

    Nothing.

    "Harry..." I put my hand on is forearm, and he tenses, almost jumping back before he realizes it's me.

    He breathes out a sigh of relief at the sight of me, "Tilly... I told you to go back to sleep."

    I slide my hand up his arm to his shoulder, "I can't go back to sleep when you're like this. What's going on?"

    Harry takes a hit of the joint, squeezing his eyes shut at the memory of what's causing his pain, but he shakes his head.

    "I'm fine. Go back to bed," He pulls his shoulder away from my touch, moving to the couch on the corner of the balcony. 

    I fight back the pit in my stomach that forms. He's never pulled away from my touch. If anything, he's only ever leaned into my touch upon feeling it. Like it was something he needed more of. Something was wrong, and I couldn't shake my gut instinct to staying with him.

    He was fighting demons that were unknown to me. This was unchartered territory to me, but I knew he could be alone right now. I cross my arms over my chest, walking back into the bedroom to rip the duvet off the bed before returning to the balcony and sitting next to him on the couch.

    "Baby... please."

    "No. You don't get to 'baby' me. Not right now; especially not like that. Because if you do, it's going to get me to listen and right now, I know the last thing you need to be alone. You were insufferable to me in my moments like this, but they're the moments that I'm most thankful for. The moments you refused to leave me alone. I'm not going to ask questions, but I'm staying here next to you as long as you need," I fluff up the blanket and cover both of our laps with it before I prop my feet up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them to pull them closer. 

    I don't look at him, but I can feel his gaze burn a hole into my side profile. He eventually looks away, back at the horizon I found him starting at before. It wasn't until he finished the joint that he put his arm around me, allowing his fingers to touch me gently.

    When he notices I don't deny his touch, he presses his hand around my shoulder and pulls me to his chest, burying his face into my messy hair, inhaling slightly. I wrap my arms around him, speaking reassuring words I think he needs to hear into my physical gestures without uttering a word. 

    We stayed outside until the sun came up, and the first sounds of the house waking up rang through the building. He was quiet the entire time we were getting ready, but he stayed close to me. Brushed his teeth with me in the bathroom, sat on the closed toilet checking emails and messages while I did my makeup. I messed around with my hair in a few different hairstyles with a single rubber band but ultimately decided to just leave it down. I threw the hair tie back on the counter top and washed my hands. 

    Harry gets up and grabs the hair tie, looking into the mirror and gathering the small bit of longer hair on the top of his head into the smallest bun known to man. He looks back at me but doesn't say anything. It takes everything in me not to smirk or laugh, knowing the fragile mood he's in.

    He breaks his exterior the slightest bit, a corner of his mouth pulling up, revealing where a single dimple was hiding, "It was starting to piss me off."

He even sat on the bed as he watched me pick out clothes to wear. He watched my every move with precision, but it didn't feel weird. His face looked softer now – almost broken – and he seemed to be trying to soak up the image of me as much as he could.

I wasn't sure why, though. We were spending the entire day together. He had things he needed to do at the stage area, and he wanted me to see behind the scenes of Coachella and live shows in general. He didn't leave the bedroom until I had all of my things and was ready to go out into the common area of the house with him.

He took a glance over at me before we left, "Why are you bringing your camera gear?"

I look down at the film camera around my neck and my camera bag straps over my shoulder, studying what he saw as if I had forgotten they were with me, "To get pictures of you working?"

For a moment, it seems like he's about to laugh, or chuckle, but he doesn't. It was just a fleeting, softer look behind his eyes, but it was faster than it appeared, "You're not working this weekend, Tils. I just want you to have fun."

I smile softly at him, tilting my head slightly, "Photography is fun for me, babe. I'm in a new place this weekend, experiencing something for the first time. Taking pictures is second nature. It's not work, but it just so happens that with you – I can get content while I do something I love."

He looks over my features as if he's struggling to say something, but he stays silent and opens the door for me to walk out of before following me. As we reach the end of the hallway that leads to the living room and kitchen, I hear him take a deep breath and let it out, almost preparing himself for something. I look over my shoulder at him, but his eyes are trained on his feet as he steps behind me. 

Mitch is in the kitchen scavenging for food when we round the corner. He gives me a confused look, not paying any attention to Harry's presence behind me. "You're up early?"

He wasn't expecting me to be up with Harry since the festival didn't start until the next day. I nod my head over my shoulder at Harry that still had his head in his phone, "Going to work with H today. Wants to spend a lot of time with me I guess," I put my hand up to the side of my mouth and loudly whispered, "It's like he's in love with me or something."

Mitch laughs loudly, breaking Harry from his screen. Harry cinches his eyebrows together, "What's so funny?"

"Your girlfriend," Mitch answers quickly before I could.

Harry looks between the two of us but doesn't ask us what we said. Doesn't come up with something witty, or even confirm what Mitch said or correct the title he gave us.

"We're headed to the stage area. We're going to be there until the setlist runthrough so we'll see you and everyone else when you get there," He spins on his heel and walks towards the front door without waiting for me or grabbing my hand like he usually does. I look down at the ground a second and back up at Mitch to say bye but he beats me at speaking first, again.

"Let me guess, he woke up not wanting to talk? Kinda grumpy?"

I purse my lips together and nod my head.

Mitch takes eggs out of the fridge and pulls a pan out of the cabinet, setting it on the stove, "Don't take it too personally. He gets in moods like this from time to time. It lasts a couple days and then he'll be back to his usual self."

A couple days? He's been progressively getting more and more distant since the morning after we got back to LA.

"He doesn't ever tell you what's going on when he gets this way?"

Mitch shakes his head while cracking an egg into the pan, "He never wants to talk about it. Only ever gets into a pissier mood when you do ask him. But it never turns into anything more. In a couple days he'll be back to normal."

I give him a tight lipped smile, debating if I should say anything else on the subject. I decide not to, "Will you ask Sarah to check on Lily later this morning if she's not up in a couple hours? Just to make sure she's not too hungover from last night? And make sure she makes it into the car so she can be at the setlist practice tonight?"

Mitch gives me a reassuring smile accompanied with a nod. I say goodbye to him before exiting the house the same way Harry did a minute ago. As I reach the front door of the house, my phone vibrates in my hand, causing me to look down. Another call from the unsaved number. For a split second, I think about answering it as a reason to stall inevitably sitting in the car with Harry with the air being undeniably stiff and heavy between us, but I lock my phone to silence it instead.

He's already in the backseat of the car when I get outside. Head buried in his phone once again as I load my bags into the trunk of the SUV before sliding into the back next to him. 

He doesn't say anything, doesn't acknowledge me when I get in the car. Doesn't even put his phone down. I ring my hands together in my lap as I look out the window while the driver takes us to our destination.

'Don't take it too seriously.'

'He gets in moods like this from time to time.'

Mitch's words repeat over and over in my head. I cling to them, trying to calm my nerves and self conscious thoughts that won't stop appearing in my head. I feel a touch wrap around one of my hands just as they were tarting to burn from the friction I was creating. I look over and Harry is still looking at his phone, but he's grabbed my hand and started interlocking our fingers together before rubbing circles along my knuckles.

He doesn't look at me. He doesn't say anything. His eyes stay trained on his phone, but his comfort is there. As if he knows what I'm thinking, and he knows what his mood is doing to me, but it'll take too much of him to break away from it for a second to comfort me more. He knows –he wasn't ready to talk about it – but it was still going to be okay.

The air in the car was still, but it was comfortable. I eventually leaned my head back against the headrest and rested my eyes until Harry tapped my knee when we were parked. I groggily get out of the car, making my way to the trunk where Harry had already beat me in getting my backpack, putting it on his shoulders and adjusting the straps to better fit his frame. He shuts the trunk before nodding to follow him. I fall instep beside him as he leads us where he needs to go.

The SUV had parked in an open, empty field a few paces away from the stage. We were walking towards the back of the area, behind us a huge ferris wheel and a white tower could be seen in the distance. Harry grabbed my hand, enveloping my fingers with his and my gaze darts to him, then around us as I tried to pull my hand out of his grasp.

His fingers tighten around mine, trapping my hand, "No one's around, Tilly. The festival doesn't start until tomorrow night."

"What about the crew members working? They can't all be sworn to secrecy." He stops, and his eyes search mine before looking at the stage behind him and the crew members working on cords and lights. He sighs and gently lets go of my hand before letting his fingers linger on my wrist. He shoves his hands in his pockets after, giving me a half-assed smile before turning in the same direction we were just walking toward.

I follow him without saying a word. I wanted to kick myself for turning him down, but we had talked about this before. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to hold his hand, I just didn't want people talking. I wanted a low profile. As low of a profile one could have when being with him.

Behind the stage, there were rows and rows of trailers. He leads us through the sea for a minute before getting to one that looked the exact same as all the others. He steps onto the first step, opens the door, but steps down while holding it open for me. I step in, taking a look around.

There's two sets of couches on either side of the trailer, the walkway running right down the middle. A mini fridge filled with drinks. A door that could only assume led to the bathroom and a back room that was closed off. 

"You can put your stuff down here for the time being. I want to show you the stage from my point of view."

I drop my bag on the couch, but keep my film camera around my neck and turn around to face him. He's got the door open, only standing on the steps that are outside the trailer waiting for me to walk near the door. He swings it open for me to step down. He holds his hand out to help me down – but after thinking and looking around – takes it away. His eyes flicker to me a moment before going to the ground as he falls in step with me. I hate the awkwardness and uncomfortable tension that's been created. What's even worse is I don't even know what started it to figure out how to fix it. 

Harry leads us to the stage from the very back. Taking me through the backstage area where even more crew members were working behind the scenes. We step out closest to the screen in the back. The stage is baron, not a single chord, prop or instrument.

"Where's all the equipment?"

"They set that up tomorrow. Each show is different – tailored specifically to the performer for the night. We each come with our own stage set up."

"Is yours the same as last weekend?"

He nods, stepping forward out onto the catwalk that's closest to us as he looks at the baron field. I notice the barricades squared off surrounding the stage, and I'm shocked at how small they are.

"Are these the only places for the audience?"

Harry shakes his head, amusement in his voice, "Those are for the people that camp out all week to get first entry. They'll likely stay in those barricades all day and night so they can get the best seats for all the performances. Other people will fill around them in the back. This entire field is going to be packed tomorrow. Just you wait."

"Harry!" Jeff's  voice rings out from behind us backstage. I turn on my heel and see him round a curtain, walking straight for us.

"Tilly!" His face lights up when he sees me standing next to Harry, "I didn't know you were coming."

He looks at Harry when he says it as if it were a dig towards him. I'm sensing some hostility between the two of them that I haven't detected before. 

"Was a last minute thing. Last I checked, you were only managing me, not the entire team," Harry has his arms crossed as him and Jeff share an intense look for a beat before Jeff nods his head in acknowledgement and backs down.

"Just wanted to catch you real quick and let you know I'm needed back in LA. I won't be able to stay for this Saturday, but I wish you luck and I'll be watching the live stream," There's an awkward silence looming over the three of us before Harry speaks.

"Thanks, safe travels."

Jeff turns to me and offers a hand, to which I accept, and he shakes them " Tilly. It's a pleasure, always. It's been far too long. Watch him for me, will ya?"

I give him a small smile and a nod before he lets go and walks back towards where he came from.

I look at Harry about to raise an eyebrow at him, but he's turned away from me already, looking out of the field, "Seems so much bigger in the daytime when it's empty. At night, when you're performing, you see the figures of people watching but you can't see how far back it expands because of the light. The light is so bright sometimes."

I step next to him, but I don't say anything. I don't touch him. I let him sit in his thoughts for a moment, understanding where his mind is at for the first time all morning.

"It is, but you handle it so well," his hand twitches and it brushes the back of mine because of the proximity we're standing at.

"You know I can't try to understand or try to help you if you don't talk to me about it, right?"

Harry looks down at his feet and just nods. We fall silent, watching the distant ferris wheel spin and stop during it's testing for the festival this weekend.

"I can't tell you because I myself don't understand it either. It's like my mind is running a million miles a minute about eighty thousand different things and I don't know how to shut it off. My mind will be here," he outstretches his arm to his right and points to the ground, "And then all of a sudden, my mind will be over here," his left hand stretches out and points to the floor, mimicking his right.

I bring my camera to my face and smile as I center him in my viewfinder and take a picture of him. Stupid, miniature unicorn bun and all.

We stayed in silence for a while. I eventually stepped next to him, close enough for our arms to touch as we stood on the stage with the crews working around us. Trying to give him any semblance of comfort that I could in the moment given the circumstances.

Harry eventually got swept up in work duties. His graphic videos for the screens were played in their entirety for him to see them again before Saturday night. They adjusted lights for him, to ensure the colors and brightness settings were saved correctly.

In the evening, before the runthrough, Harry took me around the empty festival to see everything before the event was packed with people. We saw the tower out in the middle of the field, and the ferris wheel up close. I stood at it's base where the line would be overcrowded in just twenty four hours, gawking at how tall it reached.

Harry disappeared for a minute, but I didn't notice until I looked away from the wheel and saw him walking back towards me. He took my hand and nodded to the wheel with a smirk on his face. The closest thing to a smile I had seen from him all day.

An employee opens the gondola for us , Harry gives him a nod as he stands to the side to let me in before shuffling in behind me, "You did not ask them for a private ferris wheel ride."

Harry squeezed my knee, "Being me has some perks, Tilly. It's not all bad."

The operator moved the ferris wheel and we took a few laps around before it stopped with us at the very top.The sunset could be seen on the horizon, bright oranges, pinks and reds. It was stunning. I leaned my elbow on one of my knees, resting my chin in my hand, looking at the masterpiece in awe.

Harry tapped my knee with his fingers to get my attention, "C'mere."

I look at him for a moment, wondering if I should. Why he has barely spoken to me or barely touched me even when it's just been the two of us in private, and now all of a sudden he wants to be affectionate. I hesitantly obliged and curl into his side, feeling like it was made for me all along because I fit so well.

"Not only did I ask for a private ferris wheel ride, I asked them to stop us up here, so we could be alone for a while," he presses a kiss to the side of head on my hair, letting it linger, "I'm sorry about today."

"Why?"

"Because I've been an ass..." His words trail in thought before he continues, "I'm not apologizing because I've figured out what's wrong and I can explain it to you. I still don't know or understand it, but I know it's affecting you and that was never my intention. It's not fair to you, but I'll be alright. I just get like this sometimes."

I frown slightly and look down at my lap to hide it, but he's too quick and he catches it. He hooks his finger under my chin to get me to look at him, "Tilly, this wasn't caused by something you did, and this isn't something you can fix. I'm hopeless."

My eyes flick up to his, "And I'm broken, so what's your point? I wasn't something that could be fixed either, and now look at me."

He looks intensely into my eyes, "I wasn't the one who fixed you. That was all you. I just gave you the proper space you needed to do it."

I take his hand off my chin and hold it in my hand, looking down at it, "Then how do I give you the space you need? How do I be what you were for me?"

Harry smiles the slightest bit at my words, "It's not really a science, or a cut and dry answer. But, what you did this morning, refusing to leave me when I was outside – that felt good, no matter how much I pushed away, I grew to appreciate that. So do more of that."

"I thought that made you mad at me; thought that was the reason you had barely said a word to me all day."

"No baby, I wasn't mad at you. I've just been stuck in my head all day about something I've been seeing. It's not because of you, it's because of me and my head playing tricks on me."

I turned my body in the gondola to face him better, one leg curled up on the bench, my left arm pressed against the back, "You were up early the morning we got back from Arizona and you were quiet most of that morning before you took me to my shoot. You've been quiet all day today and were up early this morning after tossing and turning... Did you dream about something?"

Something flashes across his eyes, and whether he meant to show it or not, it was there and it gave him away without knowing, "No,  no. It wasn't a dream."

"Harry..." I warned him.

He sighs an exasperated breath as his answer, knowing he was caught, "I don't want to talk about what it was. I don't want to relive it if I don't have to."

I nod my head, squeezing his hand and placing my other one on his face, "You don't have to. Just know that I'm here if you do want to talk about it."

He gives me a tight-lipped smile and holds out his arm, "C'mere."

I feel myself melt at the phrase. Something so simple that makes me feel so wanted and needed when he says it. He follows it up with his arms welcoming me to him, allowing his warmth to swallow me as his arms wrap around me. He runs his hands through my hair before tightly holding my head to his chest. His heart is running a million miles an hour, like it's about to run off into the desert.

He plants a kiss onto the top of my head and I look off at the sunset. The vibrant colors have mixed with pastel colors now as the sun sinks farther behind the horizon. Different shades of pinks while the blue in the sky tries to hold on in the sky.

His arm that's around my back is stroking small lines up and down my spine. He presses his mouth to my hair, not in a kiss, but more of a way to get closer as he holds me.

"You're blue." He states.

I move my head from his chest which in turn causes him to release his hand from it.

"If anyone's blue today, it's been you," I say, referencing the mood he's been in.

He shakes his head, looking back and forth between my eyes, "Not sadness. The color. When I see you, I see light blue."

I furrow my eyebrows together, "You said I was golden? You can't change the color that I am?"

"Sure I can. My point of view on you will change as you change. You'll always be golden – you'll always shine bright to me. But right now, you're light blue."

"Why blue?"

"Light blue," he corrects me.

"Okay, why light blue?"

"Because gold and light blue compliment each other. Light blue is refreshing. You walk outside on a sunny day, looking up at the light blue sky after a while of only seeing grey clouds, it's a breath of fresh air. You're warm like gold and refreshing like light blue when I need it the most," He explains.

I prop myself up on him slightly so our faces are level with each other, "You know I'll always be here, right? I'll be anything you need me to be."

Harry combs his fingers through my hair, stopping his hand when it makes contact with my cheek and keeps it there. He nods, and something behind his eyes softens for the first time today, giving me a glimmer of hope, "I only need you to be yourself."

"What did you feel today, Harry?" Just as his eyes soften, they harden again at my question. The green in his eyes growing darker. 

He looks down at our hands interlocked together and makes circles on my knuckles, not to comfort me, almost as if the motion was a comforting gesture for himself. 

"Fear mostly – and dread."

"My face falls at his words and I frowned again. He see and pulls my head to his chest again like he wanted to protect me from his feelings.

"What did you feel today, baby?"

I shake my head against his chest, tears starting to tell up in my eyes, "You don't need to know that. Not today."

He doesn't say anything, he doesn't move and doesn't fight my words. Truth be told, I had felt sad, insecure, and anxious all day. As if I was walking on eggshells around him the entire day. As if he was a ticking time bomb and one wrong move or word would make him implode. I'd be lying if it wasn't bringing back fleeting memories of my childhood with my dad, but I suppressed them for him; for Harry – because me being there for him was more important than whatever bad memories my mind was trying to get me to remember. 

I walked Lily around the festival grounds as the band did their practice for Saturday. I showed her the spot in the audience sectioned off for us that Harry had pointed out to me before their practice started. It was a small area only made for a few people off to the side of the stage in the grass. 

Lily and I spent most of the practice in Harry's trailer. I was exhausted and had fallen asleep at one point, only to be woken up by Harry hovering over me. He helped me up from the couch, grabbing my things for me and helped me to a car where Lily was already waiting. Apparently at some point, Lily went and found Harry, telling him how I was passed out in the trailer asleep, so he called a car for us so we could go back to the house.

The next morning he was up early again, jittery and anxious, but this time he didn't go outside to smoke. He stayed in bed and clung to me instead. We hung out around the house most of the day. He wanted to take me to the festival so I could see the livelihood of everything but I convinced him to stay at the house. I knew he had another rough night and he needed some form of rest with the performance being tomorrow.

He eventually talked me into going to see the main act Friday night. We didn't get dressed for it or anything, we just showed up. Lily had gone with Mitch and Sarah earlier in the day, we had made a plan to meet up before Billie Eilish took the stage. We found them closer to the front, in the middle of a large, packed crowd that left barely any room to stand comfortably without touching strangers. 

Harry took the spot behind me, wrapping a secure hand around my hip, low enough so people in the crowd couldn't see or pay attention to. He rocked us slightly to the music the entire performance, sometimes singing along to the words, sometimes throwing his free hand up in the air. The one thing that remained constant was the security of his touch on my hip.

I leaned my head back against his chest as Billie started to sing When The Party's Over. One of my favorites of hers. I feel Harry stoop his head low to my ear, "People are going to see, love."

I shake head, stepping back slightly so that my back was completely against his front, "I don't care right now. I need to be close to you."

His arms immediately wrapped around my chest and pulled me into his, ducking his head so it's level with my ear, "There's going to be articles about this tomorrow, you know. People are going to talk."

I close my eyes, "So let them talk. We don't have to explain ourselves to the world. They can wait."

He was more on edge than I have ever seen him the week leading up to the event, and I knew it had to have mostly been nerves. Part of me still couldn't shake the feeling that something else was happening under the surface. He was restless at night after I should have been asleep as if he was fighting something away – like sleep itself – and he didn't want me to know about it. I didn't know the best way to bring it up to him without sounding pushy. I also knew he would just blame it on Coachella and the stress he's been under, it was too easy of a cover not to use.

The meeting about the outfits had to happen the day after Mitch's because they needed as much time as possible to get it made before Friday night. I left his house in the morning to go back home to get ready for shooting. As soon as I was done, I went over to his house but his meeting with the designers was running long. 

There were sketches thrown all over the kitchen table, and Harry was leaning over the table, his hair disheveled and falling into his face. He was lost in thought staring at the plethora of sketches before him. He was so deep in thought he didn't hear me walk through the front door. 

He didn't notice until he felt my hand on his back bring him out of his thoughts. The way he carried himself seemed to relax at the sight of me. His eyes grew softer, his brows that were cinched together, drew apart. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he went in to hug me hello without saying a word. 

"How are you?" I had asked him into his shoulder.

He let go of the hug, keeping it brief, but planted a soft kiss to my temple, "Better now."

That was his new thing to say recently. Never actually giving me an answer but saying he felt better after I had finally reunited with him. I never asked him why he started saying it. By the time I had realized he was, it felt like too much time had passed. That didn't dismiss the pit it left in my stomach and the ache it left in me at the thought that he was never 'good' without me. 

"What decisions are you muling over today?"

Keeping one arm wrapped around my waist, he leans his other on the back of the chair, looking down at the options of sketches laid before us, "Outfit choices for both weekends."

"What's got you so pressed about them?"

"Everything I seem to like would take too long to make and wouldn't be done in time for this weekend. Everything they have time to make feels like it's not enough for an event like Coachella. I don't want to go on the main stage wearing just another festival outfit," He runs his hand through his hair, not breaking eye contact with the sketches.

I take a step forward, causing him to let go of his hold on my waist. Drawings scattered the wood table. Sprawled out in a messy fashion asking to be chosen for the event. Harry and the team of designers standing on the other side of the table get lost in conversation about fabric options as I get lost in the sketches. 

He nudges my side gently with his elbow to break me from my focus and holds up a sketch that could be used for either weekend, asking me my opinion. It was an all denim number with glittery western boots. I shook my head and his face fell a bit which causes me regret being truthful for only half a second.

"What were we just talking about in the studio last night? You're trying to find who you are after years of being told who you're supposed to be. Take risks. Show people you're not afraid of who you are, and they'll follow," I give him a soft smile as he searches my face, but he doesn't give me one back. He looks serious, almost as if my words hit him harder than he had expected.

I turn to the table and glance over the sketches, coming across two that I really liked. They were thrown in a pile at the end of the table as if they were being discarded. I hold them up to him, "Why are these down here?"

"We decided those weren't 'Coachella' enough."

I turn to the designers and hold up the black and white pictures, "What color material were these planned to be made with?"

One of them points to the one in my right hand, a jumpsuit with a deep-v neckline, "The jumpsuit was going to be made with black fabric and big silver sequins," He points to the one in my left hand, an open vest and matching pants, "And that one was going to be black leather, with the same silver boots that would go with the all denim outfit Harry just held up."

I look back at Harry, "You liked the all denim piece, but these weren't enough?"

Harry shrugged and shook his head, "Black and silver just seemed too safe. Plus, black leather seemed too BDSM for a music festival."

I look over the table again, finding a pile that contains what looks like accessories. Jackets, glasses, shoes, jewelry, etc. I moved some off the top to reveal a picture that had been slightly sticking out. I pick it up, but point the two outfits I had in my hand to the designers, "Are the colors of these able to be changed? Colored sequins and colored leather instead of black and silver?"

They both nod their head, "We have extra colored sequins we could use for the jump suit, but we have limited colored leather that we can use for the second piece."

I hold up the picture of the accessory I had just found. The biggest black, fur trench coat I had ever seen, "Do you happen to have time to make this in another color other than black to match the second outfit?" They nod their heads again.

I lay the three sketches out on the table in front of Harry and wrap my arm around his lower back, "I know you said it all seems like it's not enough, but what if you added stuff together to make something like this?"

Harry skims over the two options with the fur coat I had found, but doesn't say a word so I chime in, "You're the main performer for Coachella this year, you need to look the part too. You'll be in front of thousands of people and you'll be able to make a statement with them. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing old pictures of your suits from your last tour, but these are going to make more of a statement."

Harry wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in until my temple meets his lips gently. "I love it," he mumbles against my hair. 

He picks up the sketches from the table and hands them to the design team, "Are these able to be made into something for the guest performers so we'll match both weekends?"

The design team said they would have to go over logistics but they didn't see why it wouldn't work. 

The shooting schedule for the magazine spread lasted three days, but it worked out because it was happening at the same time that Harry was getting busy and getting stuck in meetings all day. Each day of shooting lasted fourteen hours, so every night after I got to Harry's, I was exhausted. I happened to have the evening off on Wednesday. We had finished shooting early and the magazine didn't think we needed anymore shots done, I just had to edit what I had and get it to them in a timely manner. Harry was set to leave for the desert the next day.

We spent Wednesday evening relaxing on the beach, trying to cool off from the abnormally hot weather. Prior to me getting there, Harry had made a spread of snacks for us to have on the beach to keep us cool. The majority of our time was spent laying in the sand with each other until Harry decided he was getting too hot and needed to take a dip to cool off. 

I took that as my chance to find refuge under the pergola on the chairs, feeling like my shoulders were burning under the evening sun. I ate some of the fruit that was laying out and scrolled through my email. 

After a while, Harry comes up from the ocean, dripping wet from the cool ocean water and annoyingly lays on my chair causing me to squeal at the sudden coolness when his body makes contact with mine. Goosebumps form over my skin at the immediate change. He doesn't say anything, just lays his head on my stomach as he wraps his arms around my torso. My hands absentmindedly run through his soaked hair.

"You're going to be amazing this weekend, and you're going to look amazing while doing it," I say softly.

He hums in appreciation, planting a soft kiss on my side to show how much my words mean to him, "You're sweet... like sugar."

I reach into a fruit bowl and offer him a piece, but instead of grabbing the piece of watermelon, he just opens his mouth like a baby bird. He bites it instead of taking the whole thing into his mouth, and the juice runs down his chin and sprays my stomach.

"Harry! That's going to be sticky!" I say through my laughs.

With a devious chuckle, he swallows his bite before moving his head down to my skin and gently lapping up the juices. His eyes flick up to meet mine, a playful expression written over his face. He repositions so his head is lower, planting kisses along my hip bone just above my bikini line. 

One of his hands moves to the strings of my swim bottoms, tugging, making the bow unravel slightly. He looks up at me, "Has anyone ever gone down on you?"

I shake my head, breathless. Confused, knowing that I wanted it but conflicted because we were in such a public setting. His hand pulls the string of the bow all the way, undoing it with ease. My hand flies to the strings and hold them, "Harry, we're on a beach."

"Yeah... a private... beach," he says in between planting kisses along my now exposed hipbone. 

He took me to a place of ecstasy that night that I had never felt before. It wasn't even all to do with his movements and the actions he did, it was the way he treated me through all of it. The thing about being intimate with him that I had been noticing was that it wasn't about a means to an end. It couldn't have been because I had been the only one receiving so far. He wasn't doing it to receive something back, he was doing it almost because he needed to. He worshipped me in every way that he could.

The day he had to leave for the desert, I got up early in the morning with him. He told me the night before I could sleep in and he would wake me up before he left the house, but I wanted to ride to the airport with him. Spend as much time with him as I could before he left. I didn't want to be in his house without him.

He hired a car service to take him to the airport and then to take me back to my house the next morning after he had left. Pulling up to the side of the airport left a heavy feeling in my chest that I had recognized, but it had been a while since I had felt the feeling. Pain.

He told his security to give him a minute before they opened the doors to get his luggage out of the back, giving us a moment before he exited the car. 

"Are you sure I can't convince you to come with me? You could do your editing in my trailer while I work."

I leaned my head back against the headrest, squeezing his hand, feeling the pain grow at having to turn him down again, "I need to stay here and finish editing. If I'm there with you, I'll just want to stay backstage and watch you."

He copies my action and leans his head against his headrest, his face still turned to me, "I'll have Jeff sit in the trailer and make sure you get it done?"

He flashes a cheesy grin at me, trying his best to convince me, but I give him a look, "It's four days, baby. You're going to do great and you're going to be fine without me."

He gives me a close lipped smile, clearly upset that I wasn't coming with him, but it came from a place of understanding. He knows I can't stop everything at the drop of a hat to join him – as much as I found myself wanting to – I had my own commitments and schedule to abide by.

Harry reaches over the seat enveloping me in an awkward hug given the close quarters of the SUV we were in. I melted into him, nestling my face into the curve of his neck, memorizing his smell as much as I could.

Stop being dramatic, Tilly. It's only four days.

Security knocks on Harry's window, pulling us out of our own world that we had drawn into. He releases me from his arms, but when I look up at him, his face wears a look of concern and his eyes desperately search mine for something before crashing his lips into mine, his hand entangling into my hair in desperation.

Add that to the list of things to ask about him later.

I break the kiss first, but Harry speaks before I can make a comment about his behavior, "I love you, know that?"

I nod, still breathless from his interaction, but I manage to repeat it back. Only it comes out more broken and less sentimental sounding as I had meant it to.

He turns to pick up his backpack that's sitting on the floor at his feet and reaches for the door. He turns around and plants a kiss to my forehead before officially opening the door and stepping out of the car and shutting the door.

Time without him went agonizingly slow, and at warped speed all at the same time. He called everyday, if not multiple times a day to either check on me or to see what I was doing. Most of the time I was editing.

Meetings and shifts at the bar helped me pass the time as much as it could, but it was done working, or texting him when I was off so he could meet me at my apartment for the night. Something we had just fallen so accustomed to doing. Saturday rolled around pretty quickly. Lily and I both finally had the same night off from responsibilities besides the editing I had to complete. I had taken a shower and walked out into the living room with my laptop to Lily already sitting on the couch with the livestream turned on, eating snacks and waiting for the main act. 

I take a seat next to her, taking some food that she had offered, opening up my laptop.

"I still can't believe you turned down his offer to go out to coachella with him," she shakes her head as she shoves popcorn in her mouth, "Stupid, stupid girl."

I smack her in the arm playfully, "It's called being financially responsible. I have bills I need to pay and a future mechanic's bill looming over my head whenever that gets done."

She nods her head in the direction of my laptop as I start editing the images I had already filtered through earlier in the day, "With the rate you're booking these jobs, I don't think you're going to need the bar for much longer, babes. And I think a part of you knows that."

I shake my head, about to say something just as the countdown on the screen turns off and shows the electrifying audience in the field with the stage lit up, the band already in their spots.

My eyes were immediately trained on the screen, anticipating when he'll be shown on the tv. I look over at Lily and she's sat up straighter, leaning in closer to the tv in just as much anticipation and I find it hard not to judge myself. I'm becoming her. I'm becoming Lily; a fan, but in the best ways I possibly could be. I know him deeper than she does. I'm a fan of his mind, his creativity, and the depths of him that he's shown me.

Lilly grabs my arm and squeezes it, her eyes still locked on the screen. I turn my attention back and he pops up from the center of the white stairs positioned behind the band, dressed in his first outfit I helped him pick out, dawning the black fur coat that I could only imagine how hot it was to wear in the heat of the desert.

He stops and looks around at the crowd with a serious look, once the beat hits and the music starts, he storms down the stairs and the concert begins. In between the first and second songs, he greets the crowd and introduces himself to the crowd as if all the concert goers don't already know who he is. He is still so humble.

"For the next eighteen or so minutes, our job is to entertain you, and I promise you, we'll do our absolutely very best. You also have a job, to have the most fun you possibly can. I want you to be whoever it is you've always wanted to be!" I smile at his words, knowing the meaning they carry to him as he's on his own journey of figuring out who he wants to be. 

More songs play that I don't recognize but are from the first album, but Lily is sitting next to me swaying back and forth as she sings every word, living her best life. A song ends, the lights go out, only to start flashing pink and purple as the first few notes of Shania Twain's Man! I Feel Like A Woman! rings out through our living room. The crowd erupts into cheers and Lily grabs my arm again in anticipation of what was going to happen next.

Harry never told me who the guests were going to be for either weekend, so I wasn't able to ruin the surprise for Lily either; I was just as shocked as she was. The power duo the two of them made on stage. I fangirled a little bit, and not for Harry this time. 

Lily and I sing along with the entire performance. The song ends and Lily looks at me, "He sang a song with Shania Twain about female empowerment?! I'm sorry, but I think I just fell in love with him all over again."

I shake my head, taking no offense to it, "I think I did too."

Lily's head shoots in my direction, her mouth practically on the floor. It's at this moment that I realize I haven't been able to catch her up on the entire trip and the week after the trip.

"I'm sorry... you're finally admitting that you're in love with him now?" 

I nod before adding, "And to him too."

Just as I thought it wasn't possible, she opens her mouth even more and gives me a blank stare out of pure shock. I explain once I realize she can't find the words to say, "I told him the night before we came back from Arizona."

"So... what? You're his girlfriend now?"

I shake my head, "He hasn't technically asked me, but we've both acknowledged that there's something between us, whatever it is," I sit back on the couch, training my eyes back on Harry performing another song with Shania Twain on the TV, "He'll ask me when he's ready."

Lily gives me a look that confuses me, "What?"

"Okay, Miss Confident Queen, unbothered about labels."

I roll my eyes, "It's always been there, it just takes certain people to bring it out of me."

She stays silent, and I turn my head back to the television, but the screens of the stage are yellow and blue and the stage is dark now.

I frown, realizing the performance was over, "You made us miss the last song of the show."

"Well, next time you want to watch your boyfriend perform, maybe you should go in person, or don't drop the bomb on me that you told him you loved him right before."

I roll my eyes again at her comment, "He's not my boyfriend."

"Not yet."

I get up from the couch, deciding to be done with her friendly harassment before going to my room to complete the editing that I didn't actually do during the performance. An hour after the live stream ended, I'm laying in bed scrolling through my phone when Harry video calls me. I answer immediately, going straight into compliments instead of greeting him first. 

"You did fucking incredible! If I hadn't already known I wouldn't have been able to tell it was thrown together in four days," I say wearing the biggest smile I could while sitting up to lean against my headboard. 

Harry's face lights up, "You watched tonight?"

I nod my head, confused by his surprise, "I told you I would since I didn't have to work."

"Thank you, that means a lot to me that you stayed up late to watch it when you could have been sleeping or editing," he says, the sincerity in this thanks shining through.

"Editing can always wait, it's not everyday I'd get to watch you perform at Coachella on my television."

He puts the phone down on a table and there's some rustling in the background before he picks up the phone again. His damp hair is drying from the obvious shower he took a while ago, leaving it a frizzy curly mess, his cross necklace shining in the overhead light of his trailer, falling on his chest.

"What did you feel today, Tils?" His voice is low and husky from his show. It startles me a second having not heard it before.

I twist my face into thoughts, "Today wasn't really anything special, I worked a shift earlier. Got some editing done, but I did feel excitement when seeing you perform. I was in awe."

He chuckles and thanks me softly. I bite my cheek trying to fight back all the things I've been wanting to ask him about since he left, but haven't wanted to do it while we were in separate cities. Why has he been so nervous and stressed? Why was he fighting sleep? What was with him kissing me at the airport? Part of me wanted to wait until Europe to see if Coachella really was the culprit before I brought attention to it, but then the other side of me thought maybe waiting until after we were completely done traveling would be better. Maybe the upcoming busy schedule was the source since he had been keeping a low profile all these months.

"What did you feel today, H?"

"Erm," he opens a bottle of water and takes a swig of it, "Euphoria. Adrenaline. From being on stage again after a few months – but I also felt misplaced."

My face twists into curiosity, "Misplaced?"

He nods, "It feels wrong being somewhere you're not. I don't feel like I'm one hundred percent myself when you're missing. I miss you. I wish you could have come with me, you would love the energy here."

"Trust me, I wish I could have come too. Anything would beat wiping down tables and serving middle aged men beer all night." Harry seems to frown for a split second at the mention of the bar but he fixes his face and leaves it alone.

What are you doing next weekend? Do you work?"

I shake my head, "No, I took it off so I could get everything together for Europe, since we're leaving when you're done with Coachella."

"Perfect, then it's settled."

"Then what's settled?"

He gives me a smirk, "You're coming to Coachella next weekend before Europe. I got two tickets, you can bring Lily if she's available. Since everyone you know will be either getting ready for the show or be on stage with me, I didn't think you'd want to be alone all night while I was working."

I open my mouth to say something, but I fall short, unable to continue. We didn't talk about this beforehand. I thought not coming this weekend was my answer to both weekends, but in classic stubborn Harry fashion, he doesn't like taking no for an answer. 

"You'll have access to the trailers so you can come see me before the show whenever you want. You can fly out on Thursday if you're free and spend the whole day with me while I finish the final touches, or you can come later when the shows start. There's a spot in the audience where Jeff has been standing this weekend that you can safely hang out in if you want so you can see the whole show; but I wouldn't be mad if you'd rather stay and watch it in the trailer. I just want you here. Jeff won't be there so you won't have to worry about other people wondering who you are in relation to him. Whatever it takes to get you here. I just want you here."

I bite my cheek, trying to fight a smile but I lose the battle. Excitement overtakes control over his thoughtfulness and the idea of getting to experience my first festival.

"Lily is going to lose her shit."

Harry's cheesy smile that he was using to try to innocently convince me turns into a wide sincere one, "So you'll come?"

I nod my head eagerly, "I wouldn't miss it after seeing tonight's live stream."

Harry stayed at Coachella until Monday morning so he could see the other acts perform. He flew home to LA for a couple days before we had to leave again, but this time, he stayed at my apartment. Mitch, Sarah and the rest of the band stayed at the Coachella house they were renting for the rest of the week relaxing before the weekend festivities picked up again.

The majority of the time he was at my place, Lily and I spent packing and outfit planning, while I was also trying to pack for a trip to Europe and Jamaica right after. Just call me a world class traveler at this point.

Harry was a good sport every time we'd get some peace and quiet alone before Lily would barge into my room asking for thoughts on an outfit idea she had ordered. I had one outfit picked out that Lily practically didn't give me a choice about. She ordered it without me knowing and is now forcing me to wear it on Saturday night when Harry performs.

She's ordered other outfits and said anything she doesn't choose I can wear for the other nights, but I wasn't planning on going out Friday or Sunday. We left Sunday morning and I had a feeling Europe was going to be nonstop busy. I wanted some moments of peace before I had to fly across the ocean to countries I didn't know.

We left on Wednesday for the desert with Harry. He really wanted me to see the behind the scenes stuff of how everything worked with setting up a show for some reason before people hit the stage the next night. We stayed at the Coachella house for the weekend so Lily got to meet everyone in the band and she was starstruck all over again. She kept it hidden pretty well at the moment, but I knew she was dying to let it out once she had a moment alone.

We spent Wednesday night hanging around a fire in the backyard of the house. Sarah had gone to bed early, but I wasn't ready to call it a night yet and neither was Lily. Mitch rolled up a joint around the fire and lit it before passing it to Harry. They passed it back and forth a couple times. When Harry got the blunt again, he took a slow drag before lowering it from his lips. I held out my hand, giving him an inquisitive look.

He raised an eyebrow at me, looking between Mitch and I, shocked that I would even be interested, "So she takes photos, dabbles in fashion, and smokes on occasion?"

He hands it over to me, and I shake my head, "Correction: I make you look good, dabble in fashion and smoke on occasion."

I wrap my lips around the joint, dragging in a breath and exhaling it as slow as I could, letting the burning sensation linger.

Lily – who was in the middle of taking a drink of her beer – took her cup away from her mouth and snorted from trying to hold back her laughter, almost spitting out the contents from my comment. Mitch let out a tsk with a laugh and looked at Harry with a look that almost say 'you're in trouble.'

Harry nodded his head, putting his arm around my shoulder and pressing a kiss to my temple, "You do make me look good," He brings his tone down to one that only I could hear, bringing his lips closer to my ear, "In more ways than what you're thinking."

He lifts his head away from my ear and gives me a smirk before taking a drink of his own beer from his cup holder. Mitch starts shaking his head, "No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to be roasted by the person you're dating and then make a comment back that we can't hear."

I look over at Lily and she's looking between the three of us as if she's watching a reality tv show, getting the inside scoop of the juiciest gossip. She was completely in her element and I knew after this interaction, she wouldn't have a problem fitting in with everyone.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, tapping his fingers on my shoulder as if it would help the right thing to say to Mitch come to his head, "I do, because you're not the person I'm dating."

Harry hands the joint back to Mitch. He takes it aggressively trying to fake his anger. Harry's line makes me snicker but I bite it back because I feel the familiar flutter in my stomach at his words. I look up at him and it catches his attention, "We're dating now?"

A playful smirk plays across my lips, thinking I was calling him out about something he didn't mean to let slip out. He mimics my smirk, "Baby, we've been dating since I kissed you on your couch."

My heart skips and a blush creeps to my cheeks. Our eyes don't leave each other like we're the only ones around the fire. His seems like they're challenging me to say something witty back, but his words make me fail to think of anything. I don't know how long we sat in the silence staring at each other but eventually, Lily excuses herself to go to bed and Mitch follows suit.

"Now that you two have made the air mushy and gross with your love, I'm going to bed," Mitch slaps Harry on the back of the head like he did in the car in Arizona, warranting the same reaction from Harry as it did a month ago, making me giggle at the deja vu. Mitch hands him what's left of the joint for us to share, "See you tomorrow, H. G'night Tilly."

"G'night asshole," Harry mutters under his breath after he's already reached the backdoor of the house.

Mitch leaving the backyard left a certain awkwardness in the air that I hadn't felt between Harry and I in a while. I didn't know what to say, or how to come back from our playful moment being interrupted. I had nothing witty to say back, in fact, I had lost my entire train of thought.

Harry takes a slow inhale before passing it over to me and I mimic his actions, allowing the burn to fill my lungs, before relinquishing it into the night air. 

"Did you turn in your final photos for your magazine job?" Harry breaking the silence with a normal question made me snicker to myself, confirming my suspicions that he felt it too.

I nodded, "I did. They were very happy with the finished products. The last line of the email said that they 'looked forward to working with me again in the future.'"

Harry kisses my temple gently as I take another hit of the blunt, the paper dwindling with every drag that we take, "M'so proud of you, love."

I smile, closing my eyes, my hand instinctively reaching for his that's around my shoulder and he works to interlock our fingers. He gives me a look – not one of curiosity – but one of understanding. Knowing just how much his words hit me and meant to me coming from him.

Since Harry, I hadn't heard those words in six months. Sure Lily was proud of me, but she said it other ways. She said it in her actions, taking me out to dinner to celebrate something, or taking me out for drinks when I didn't get chosen for something. This was now the second time Harry has said it to me about two completely different topics, but both times he's said it has been with such sincerity, I'd be stupid not to believe him.

Harry hands me the blunt to take the last hit before I throw it in the fire while he speaks, "I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Why did you pick the colors you did for the clothes for Coachella?"

I bite my cheek. I could understand him asking about last weekend's outfit. There wasn't a real rhyme or reason besides the fact that I felt like he should stand out from the rest of the band and from the colorful stage that was going to be dancing with videos and lights behind him. But I thought the color for this weekend was obvious.

"The color sequins I knew would catch the lights of the stage, and just look all around better with the colors of the lights shining on you. This weekend's outfit..." I look up at him, locking my eyes with his so he heard me, "You're the color pink, Harry. You're light, gentle, bold, and free. You're free to be whoever you want to be."

For a moment I think I see tears well up in his eyes, but he blinks and looks down at his hand as he spins the lone ring on his finger. He leans his head back to look up at the cloudy sky. "You should throw a party when we get back from Jamaica."

"A party for what/ my birthday isn't for another... like three months."

Harry laughs and shakes his head, "Not your birthday. To celebrate the magazine. We can invite all your friends and have it at my place. I can get catering and–"

I stop him from rambling by shoving the joint between his lips, "Harry. All of my friends consist of you, Lily, Mitch and Sarah. It would be more of a friend game night than it would be a party."

Harry pulls my shoulders tighter into his side almost instinctively, "Then we'll invite our closest friends over and have a game night to celebrate and order food. You need to be celebrated, Tilly."

"You deserve to be celebrated."

I mumble a hello into the phone, trying to hide my annoyance. "H! How's it going? You said you would ask Tilly when you got back, and... you're back. How'd the conversation go?"

"I talked to her last night," I pull out a bottle of orange juice from the fridge, not having anything edible from being gone for so long, "but I gave her until tonight to choose what she wants to do."

"Well, your first problem was you gave her a choice. Rule number one of being in charge of a team, you never give them the choice. You're the boss, you need to act like it, Harry. Or else I'm going to be stuck putting out all of your fires for you."

I ignore his comment with an eye roll that he can't see. I have to keep reminding myself that he doesn't know about her and I. I don't think he would particularly approve of me being with someone that's working for me. I don't need his approval, but it's not an argument that I'm ready to have with him. I stay silent as Jeff practically scolds me over the phone for the decisions I've been making.

My head hasn't fully been in it lately... I'm acting differently... I don't seem to have my priorities straight anymore... Work should come first, blah, blah, blah.

"Jeff, for Godsakes, you were hired to be my manager to manage me and my career. Not my entire life. You are not Tilly's manager. You're not the manager of the team. So, from here on out, when it comes to the team, I'll make the decisions unless I specifically come to you and say, 'Jeffrey I need you to do x, y, z.' Until that moment comes, I need you to back the fuck off. You're suffocating and it's only making me want to step back from writing again, and put a hold on everything. You suffocate me too much, I'll inevitably shut down. So please, fuck off for a while," despite my best efforts, my voice raised quite a few octaves through my rant with out me realizing.

Jeffrey is silent on the phone, only a slight static coming through the phone a moment. For a second the silence makes me want to take my words back, but then Jeffrey says: "Okay. I'll only contact you when there's offers or things that need done. Speaking of, you got offered the headlining position for Coachella next weekend. The headliner bailed and they need to fill it with someone local. They need a decision tonight on whether you want it. It's Friday, Saturday and Sunday for the next two weekends before Europe. They're wanting to keep the special guests the same for the sake of planning. Your special guests are Shania Twain and Lizzo."

Before I can respond, Jeff hangs up the phone without a word, leaving me in silence again. I throw my phone on the counter in front of me before running my hands through my hair, pulling at the root a bit.

I thought my shower didn't help my mood, that conversation with Jeffrey was worse. I wasn't due to be at Mitch's for six hours and I was probably due for a couple hours of sleep from being up most of the night last night, but I couldn't sit still. I felt like the walls of the house were caving in on me and I had to escape. I grab my keys and my wallet from my nightstand and race to my car, ignoring the fact that I still needed food. I drive to the only place I can think of going.

I had to knock on the door a few times before he finally answered groggily. I push past him into the living room. Mitch is rubbing his eyes, following me, seemingly unphased by my intrusion. He doesn't ask me anything as I flop down on a couch. He sits himself on the other one and looks at me as I stare at the ceiling, letting the silence stretch between us.

"I've about had it with Jeff."

Mitch doesn't say anything and I look at him, expecting him to be asleep but he's not. He's mimicking me by looking at the ceiling, "He's trying to tell Tilly what to do, forcing her to do things that's against her wishes that were in her contract. I finally told him off and then he dropped the bomb that we were offered the headlining slot for Coachella. He said I have until tonight to make a decision, but the way he sounded almost seemed like I didn't have a choice. I don't even get to choose my special guests. There's so much prep that goes into an event like that. Songs, setlists, clothes for not just me, but the whole band and the other performer to match, stage set up, not to mention practices to make sure everything went well."

Mitch sits up on the couch, "Hold on, hold on. Let's back the fuck up. You went off on Jeff?"

I nod my head.

"You went off on Jeffrey because he's trying to tell Tilly she has to go against her contract or because he's been suffocating you about the album and the timeline?"

His words cause me to contemplate. It was mostly because of Tilly. I didn't give a damn about myself. I was used to the ways of the industry and has learned how to maneuver around them. But Tilly was a fresh face, and the industry was like vultures, waiting for their next take down, and I was protective when it came to her.

"Both."

"He backed off?"

I nod again.

"Wow, H. I didn't think you had it in you. Guess all it took was him attacking someone you cared about, huh?" Mitch leans back on the couch, stretching an arm around the back of it.

I sit up while shrugging, looking down at my feet as it makes contact with the rug, "Guess so."

Mitch's head shoots in my direction, "So you admit it?"

"I admit what?"

"That you care for her?" He asks it as a question as if it's obvious. It was. It couldn't be more obvious that I cared for her and he knew it, even when I denied it to his face up until a few weeks ago.

I chuckle at him, "How long has it been since you and I got to talk by ourselves?"

"Apparently a while."

"Well, let me catch you up. I took her out. To that Japanese steakhouse you and I go to work a lot in Malibu. I told her I was in love with her, and then we jetted off to Phoenix for a long weekend."

Mitch makes a surprised face at me, "I wasn't expecting that from you. I knew you cared for you, but not to that extent."

"The moment just felt right," I shrug, "I don't know how else to explain it. The weekend couldn't have been more perfect. It was heavy for me, more than I thought it would be because it was over Oliver's birthday, but it was also very light. Tilly said she loved me, and–without going into detail–said she was vulnerable with me. Like truly vulnerable for the first time and I felt like it brought me closer to her in ways that I can't really put into words. I got to see where she grew up, she let me into parts of her life and her past that I didn't know about."

"Sounds like you've had a couple successful weeks lately. So why did you come through my front door huffing and puffing like you were going to turn green?"

"Because I'm at my wits end with everything going on. This schedule that Jeff seems to think needs to be followed to a T, mixed with trying to have time to myself and with Tilly has me feeling like I'm going crazy."

Mitch leans forward on his elbows, "Well, if you went off on him, he'll back off for now. It'll probably come with some repercussions for you later, but you can always ask for forgiveness and apologize later."

Mitch gets off the couch and moves to the kitchen and asks me if I'm hungry. He throws together some bowls of fruit for breakfast. I move from the couch and sit in the kitchen with him.

"So, you're here, pissed off at the world after spending four days with Tilly after you both said you loved each other... Where is she?"

"Working. She had a photography gig."

"Oh good, I'm glad she's getting back into it," Mitch takes a bite of his fruit, "This song you have that you need finished... You wrote it while you were gone?"

"Partly. I came up with some of it a week before we left in her room. She helped me with some of it over the weekend in Phoenix. She kind of understands where the lyrics are coming from. I invited Tilly over tonight because I want her to help, and get you as a second opinion before we start to possibly record things."

"Well, H. I never thought I'd live to see the day."

"What day?"

"The day you found your muse."

We hang out the rest of the morning. I had asked Mitch if anything had happened between him and Sarah since I last saw them, and in classic Mitch fashion, nothing happened. He was enjoying taking things slow and savoring everything. I challenged him at one point, asking him if that's also what Sarah's feeling but Mitch didn't know. I encouraged him to have a conversation with her tonight to ask her about it but he wasn't sure if he wanted to do that.

I decided to stay the rest of the time at Mitch's, not wanting to go home alone. I still needed a distraction. Being home alone was only going to make things worse and it would affect my writing later. Throughout the day, I continuously checked my phone incase Tilly tried to reach me, if something happened or if something was wrong. I couldn't shake my anxiety from my nightmare the night before. I had no idea what the meaning was, but the feeling it was giving me of dread was lingering over my head.

Sarah eventually made her way to Mitch's house. I greeted her with a hug, as did Mitch. They awkwardly sat around in the living room in silence with me watching them. I eventually couldn't take it anymore and I shoot a look at Mitch before excusing myself to the studio to get everything together before Tilly got to the house.

Not too long after, Tilly texted me that she was out front. She had knocked but no one was answering the door. I got up from my chair at the computer and jogged to the front door. I gave her a second to walk into the foyer, but once her bag hit the floor next to her shoes, my arms were wrapped around her, lifting her off the ground slightly. I hugged her as tight as I could without hurting her, scared of letting her go.

Tilly is the first one to break the hug taken aback by my actions, "Everything ok?"

I brush hair out of her face, giving her a small smile, "It is now. How was your day?"

Tilly threw her head back, "Amazing. You would not believe the shots I got and how kind and supportive the people were. It was incredible."

I smile at her joy, unable to contain my smile as she rambles about how the set was set up and the outfits the model wore. All I could think about was how happy I was that she was back in my space again after being separated all day.

"Will you stay in the studio this time for the writing? I'd like it if you were in there helping me write this one. You know what the song's about and you know the feelings that can be drawn from it."

She gives me a smile and a nod, beaming at my question, "Well, duh."

Mitch and Sarah suddenly come into the foyer having heard the door open and close from wherever they disappeared to with each other. Mitch is loud and excited to see Tilly for the first time in a while and gives her a bear hug that causes her to giggle. We move to the studio and Tilly collapses dramatically on the couch, feigning exhaustion, causing me to chuckle.

"So, this song..." Mitch says to get the work rolling.

"...Is amazing. You're going to love it when you hear it." Tilly grins at Mitch and Sarah before proudly pointing it at me causing me to blush slightly. I turn around in my chair, trying to bury my face into the computer screen as I pull up software for Mitch.

"What's it about?" Sarah asks.

"Finding yourself after you've been lost for a while," Mitch looks at me and then looks at Tilly who confirms it with a nod.

Once the software is set, I move to Tilly's couch sitting on her as she was taking up the entire piece of furniture. She fake gasps for hair and grunts, "Oh God, you're going to kill me."

I laugh as I lift my weight off of her so she can move. She sits up and I take the seat next to her as I pull out my phone with my notes app open to the song's lyrics we had written together. I pass the phone to Mitch to let him read the lyrics and we started shooting off ideas, the girls staying quiet, letting us find a groove for a second. Sarah tries to chime in here and there when she can, but otherwise, she's lost when it came to this part of the process.

At one point, Tilly's head is leaning on my shoulder, her eyes looking heavy from the long day she's had, and Mitch and I have moved to bantering instead of writing. Sarah moves from her couch that's sitting under the floating shelf. She moves to look around the room, looking at all the pictures and decorations as if she hadn't seen them before. She soaked them in since most of the writing sessions, her and Tilly have ran off somewhere.

Her hand grazes over a black and white picture frame of me, Mitch and Oliver. "I haven't seen this picture before. Who took it?"

I can feel Tilly's head lift off my shoulder and turn to Sarah's direction. She tenses next to me when she notices the picture Sarah's holding up. My eyes meet Tilly's and we exchange a look after I piece together that she was the one who took it, being his sister.

Mitch unfortunately notices, "What's that look for between you two?"

"What look? There was no look," I try to play dumb but I fail miserably.

"Yes there was. You both locked eyes like you were hiding something; like you had a secret. Is it about the picture?"

"N-No, it just reminded me of... something from Phoenix that Tilly and I saw... I was looking at her to see if she–" Tilly puts her hand on mine to stop me, saving me from further embarrassment.

"It's okay, H. Umm, I was actually the one that took that picture..." Her voice is soft, and trailing, with a certain shyness behind her tone as she comes clean to Mitch and Sarah.

Mitch's eyes scan the room as if he's thinking and he starts processing outloud, "I told you a while ago that it was his sister that took the photo."

Tilly nods and Mitch takes the picture from Sarah to get a better look. He looks between her and the photo for a while.

"Oliver was my brother," Tilly speaks up, confirming what I can only imagine were Mitch's suspicions that he was too scared to voice out loud. I grab Tilly's hand that's sitting in her lap and squeeze it, knowing it must be hard to come clean about that. I look at Mitch and Sarah for their reactions.

Sarah and Mitch's eyes go wide and they look at each other a beat, realizing and finally connecting the dots.

"How did I not realize this on my own? The signs were all there. You were in the studio for one of the songs on the last album, and you and him look so much alike. I'm sorry I never realized Tilly. The Phoenix trip over his birthday weekend... It wasn't a coincidence that it was over his birthday and H canceled his plans with me to jet off with you, was it?"

I shake my head, "We celebrated his birthday together in phoenix at the spot we'd always write with him at. We spent the weekend doing his favorite things and going to his favorite places."

Mitch, overcome with emotion, moves from his chair, arms outstretched to Tilly for a hug. She stands, letting go of my hand and meets him over the coffee table.

    Watching them share an embrace together makes me realize something. Tilly's new family she's building starts with me, but it won't end with me. She's got so many people in her corner already whether she realizes it or not. People that would drop everything to help her.

Just to confirm my thought, Sarah moves and mimics Mitch's actions. Sarah whispers something in her ear that makes Tilly laugh, but was too low for me to hear. Tilly hugs her tighter because of it.

Time passes as we get started on the song, Mitch and I throw out more ideas. Tilly started out sitting back and listening to all of them first. After explaining the song a little more in depth, we got on the subject of being in the spotlight.

"You could write a part of it from the perspective of how it would feel to put the new you out into the world that's been so unforgiving once you've found him. Figuratively stepping into the spotlight. Or, maybe how the world will perceive it when you inevitably step back onstage into a spotlight more improved. Shine, step into the light, Shine, so bright sometimes."

She seems timid about throwing out ideas in a group setting, scared she's going to be shot down as soon as she speaks. Just a different persona she's carrying than when it was just her and I at the piano in Phoenix writing at the house.

I chime in to back her up, "I'm not ever going back."

Tilly gives me a close lipped smile, grabbing my hand, "This is going to be a really good song for other people to hear too. People who struggle with hiding certain aspects of their lives and themselves. I think this is going to help them be more true to themselves when they feel seen."

"I think so too," I look between the group, "I want to put something in there that says something like I wasn't broken down or made to conform. In the end it could almost be like a test of self reflection. Do you know who you really are after the journey you've been on? All the lights couldn't put out the dark, running through my heart... Lights up and they know who you are... Do you know who you are?"

Sarah nods her head, "I like those lyrics a lot."

Mitch agrees with her and I find myself questioning if he actually likes it or if he's agreeing just to agree with Sarah. After a while of trying to figure out the inbetweens of the verses, Sarah seemed bored so Tilly takes her into the living room while Mitch and I talk about production and background sounds for the new track.

I asked him how the conversation went with Sarah and he said it went well. They're Both on the same page, Sarah was just too scared to ask him. They're technically dating, but taking it extremely slow, not being too out there too soon because of the band.

I tell him that they don't have to hide it in front of Tilly and I, and we don't plan to hide in front of them either. It would become too exhausting having to pull back my affection for her in front of everyone and only allow myself to show her how I love her when we're alone. I would probably combust.

While we're talking, I get an idea for how I want the track to sound and we mess around with a few tunes before we stop for the night. I go to find Tilly, Mitch right behind me. They're sitting on the couches in the living room giggling about something.

"And what are you ladies doing?" I ask, strolling behind the couch Tilly is sitting on.

"Talking about you two," Tilly replies back, a smile being heard in her voice. I crouch behind the couch, wrapping my arms around her chest.

"Yeah?" I ask, nudging her to go on.

"Yeah, about your terrible jokes you make me listen to."

I nestled my head into the curve of her neck mumbling into her so only she could hear, "You know you couldn't live without them," It causes her to giggle. I lift my head back up, turning my neck to her side profile, "Ready to go?"

Tilly hums and stands from the couch. She hugs Sarah and Mitch goodbye before grabbing her bag and walking hand and hand with me to the front door. Mitch follows us to the door to send us off, "Bye you love birds."

I can feel Tilly's glance switch between me and Mitch as a smirk grows on my face that I can't fight back.

When we're in the car, Tilly fully turns to me before putting on her seatbelt, "You told him?

"Mitch? About what?"

"Don't play dumb, you know what I'm talking about. You told him about us?"

I nod my head, "'Course I did, babe. He's my best friend. I don't plan on being secretive around him when it comes to you. Do you plan on being secretive around Lily?"

She thinks on it before shaking her head, "No, I don't. I'm just surprised."

She finally sits back and puts her seat belt across her before buckling it in. I grab her hand and plant a kiss on the back of it, "You're not something I'm ashamed of, Tilly. I don't want to hide you away. Unless you want to be hidden."

"What do you mean 'unless I want to be hidden?"

"You can pick and choose who knows we're... a thing. It can be just Mitch, Sarah and Lily. It can include the whole band, or we can scream it to the entire world. You're entirely in control of it." I rub reassuring circles on her hand with my thumb.

I don't know what to call us. I've not officially asked her to be my girlfriend, but I kind of went out of order by saying I loved her and her confessing it back, so it's been confusing on how to navigate things.

"I don't mind the band knowing either. It'll make sessions easier for us I feel since they're long days. I don't think I want the entire world to know though." She confesses and I nod my head.

"That's perfectly understandable. You should know though, the media already has theories of who you are and what you are to me," I explain, recalling the pictures from our date night around LA before our trip.

"Theories?"

"We were seen going out to a restaurant together by a crowd of cameras, Tils. And there may or may not be pictures of us on the streets of Phoenix from the weekend."

"We weren't doing anything affectionate on the streets though that I remember?" She's trying to rack her brain, trying to will her memory to remember her every move from the trip while we were out in public.

"That doesn't matter, " I explain, "They see me with the same woman more than once, they immediately try to make it a story."

Tilly falls silent and doesn't speak the rest of the short drive back to my house. She still doesn't speak when I park in the garage or while I'm following her into the house. She sets her bag on the counter. I grab her hips before she can walk away, spinning her around to face me, brushing a stray hair behind her ear.

"What's the matter, sunshine? You've been quiet."

"Tilly shakes her head not wanting to talk about it, but I already know what's bothering her, "If it's the attention you're worried about, don't be. It doesn't matter what everyone else thinks but us."

"It's not just that. It's how everything will inevitably change when something like that blows up. I don't want this to change," she points between her and I. I rub my hands up and down her arms that are crossed over her chest.

"It won't baby, I'll make sure of it," I kiss the top of her head, "It's our world Tilly. Not theirs, all that matters is us, alright?"

She nods, leaning into my chest more as if I were her crutch.

"Can I make an observation?" She nods again, still staying silent.

"You look exhausted from today and from this weekend. Let's go to bed, alright?"

She hums in agreement, pulling back from my grasp slightly before outstretching her arms, overexaggerating her exhaustion, "I'm too tired to make it up the stairs, leave me down here."

"Yes you can, you've made it this far," I encourage her with a laugh, trying to pull her waist toward the stairs.

Tilly fakes her legs giving out and it causes me to catch her, "I can't, my legs aren't working properly."

I roll my eyes but scoop her up bridal style, "Are you always this insufferable this late at night?"

"Only when it comes to you," she boops my nose with her finger which and I peck her lips out of retaliation before taking her up to my room.

I set her down on the plush carpet and we do our thing getting ready for bed, before meeting again at my bed like clockwork.

I sit up partially leaning against the headboard of the bed, and Tilly climbs in next to my side, leaning her back against my body, my arm draped down her front over her shoulder, "I got another job offer after my work today..."

Her voice trails off but her words catch my attention and I perk up at the sound of them, "They offered you another job without seeing the finished photos?"

She nods her head before leaning it back on me, "They liked the raw, unedited photos that much that they offered me my own cover of their magazine. I would start shooting this week."

I sit up now, causing her to turn her body to me in confusion about what I was doing, "Tilly, that's incredible."

She shrugs, brushing off my excitement, "I'm not sure if I'm going to take it. I think doing an entire cover plus a spread in the issue would be too much with what I have going on right now."

"You could always quit the bar..." My voice trails off, becoming almost non existent at the end of my sentence by the time I finish it.

She doesn't say anything to me, she just leans back against me again, laying her head on my shoulder, "What'd you do today?"

I shrugged, not wanting to get into the specifics of hating being away from her and letting my anxiety get the best of me, "Little bit of this, little bit of that. Nothing worth noting... Except I did talk to Jeff this morning after I dropped you off..."

What did he want?

"Wanted to know if you had made a decision about Europe yet." Her demeanor changes as soon as I bring it up, clearly something she hadn't stopped thinking about all day.

"I don't know yet."

"Will you talk me through it? Your reservations about going, I mean. Why did you say no to overseas jobs?"

"I've got too much going on right now. I didn't want to burn myself out too fast from the start of everything. I've never been out of the country either and I didn't really want my first time to be work related," She explains, her hand fidgeting with the one ring I didn't take off while I got ready for bed.

We're quiet a while, taking in her words before I chime in, "Well, in the spirit of not knowing what to do, I was offered to be the headliner for Coachella."

She looks at me with wide eyes, excitement already spewing until she sees my reaction, "Harry, that's huge! Why don't you seem excited about it?"

"I don't know if it's something I want to do. It would leave four days to prepare and I would have to start immediately, which probably means if you want to see me, it'd have to be you sleeping here and I know that's not always feasible with your bar schedule."

She laughs slightly, "Well, no. But we also don't always have to be attached to the hip every minute of the day. If I get a day off, I'll just come spend it with you while you work. We can figure it out."

"I'm also still technically on a break from music and performing," I remind her.

"It's only been... what? Two months since you stopped touring? I think this is too big of an opportunity to pass up. Some of the biggest names in music have headlined Coachella. You could sing some covers, or sing an unreleased song to keep the people wanting more."

I get quiet, getting lost in my own head about how scared I was it wouldn't work out seamlessly. Combing over every little thing that could go wrong, until she brushes her fingers across my cheekbone and my eyes flick to her soft brown ones.

"How about I make you a deal," She suggests.

"I'm listening..." My heart flutters at her words.

"We both don't want to do something because we're scared... but the best way to face your fears is with other people. If I agree to go to Europe and Jamaica, will you agree to do Coachella? I'll even consider taking the magazine cover job."

A smirk grows across my face, until I know my left dimple becomes faintly noticeable because I can see her eyes look down at it for a beat before returning to my eyes, "Were you a lawyer in a past life?"

Tilly laughs, smirking back at me, "No, I just know your weakness and how to use it against you."

I scoff sarcastically, knowing damn well what I say is a lie, "I don't have weaknesses."

She cocks her head at me slightly, "Maybe not... until it comes to me."

I shake my head and chuckle to myself while pulling her closer to me. I don't try to argue with her, I don't try to cover it up, because she's right. She is my weakness, and that might be my biggest flaw and greatest downfall.

I wanted to extend our time together as much as possible before we had to go back to reality. Before I had to share her with responsibilities and with Lily. Before we were forced to hold back our feelings once again when we found ourselves around the band in a professional setting.

We were intimate last night. We were intimate with each other and not just in a physical sense. She revealed something to me that I don't think she's ever revealed to anyone else.The night at the canyon was raw. She said she loved and then claimed she was starting a new family and it started with me. She added me to her hypothetical family portrait by adding a tower of rocks next to ones that signified her and her brother. It was her way of officially letting me in.

She was raw and vulnerable with me all weekend, come to think of it. We went to Oliver's grave together, she showed me her childhood home. She let me see a bit of her history; sharing stories of her and Oliver from happier times as children in the backyard. I loved her even more for it.

The way last night ended was better than I could have ever imagined. I wanted to give her all of me, but there's something holding me back. Like a voice telling me that I'll only fuck things up. All I've ever done in past relationships is either fuck up situations or allowed society and the media to get in my head with their opinions with things that don't pertain to them. I didn't want that to happen. Tilly was special, and she deserved something special. She deserved the world.

I know it's inevitable that she's going to get big. Her skills are too good to be wasted on just my work, and I see that more and more everyday. That's why I couldn't bare myself to her. It was to protect her. At least that's what I've been telling myself since last night. Maybe eventually I'll be able to give myself to her in the way she deserves, but right now it was in her best interest.

She stirs as I absentmindedly brush the hair off her neck and I tense. I hadn't meant to wake her up, I just always have this need and want to be close to her; to be touching her every chance I can. Her eyes flutter open, blinking a few times trying to focus her vision. We were up late last night. By the time we had actually fallen asleep it was almost three in the morning, and the time this morning hadn't even hit eight AM yet.

A soft close lipped smile appears on her face as her eyes fall on me. She looks around the room and sees the glow of the light shining through the door and she starts to panic. Already knowing it's because she thinks we overslept for the plane, I place a hand on her waist, dragging her into me.

"I changed our flight time last night," I bury my face into her hair, "I wasn't ready to leave this place behind yet," she relaxes at my words and my touch before seeming to melt her body into me.

"We're going to have to leave here eventually," she giggles under her breath.

"Well, I'm not ready to face that reality yet, so lay with me until the absolute last minute."

She nestles her body deeper into mine, planting a gentle kiss on my nose, "Deal."

That's exactly what we did. We laid in each other's embrace until we were forced to get out of bed, needing to be on our plane within an hour and still having a rental car to return. I had never packed my things in more of a hurry before rushing around the house checking the locks on all the doors and windows.

Tilly appeared in the foyer of the house minutes after me and we rushed out the door to the rental car. She was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, something I had only ever seen her wear around her apartment or my house, and I found myself loving how confident she was to wearing even lounge clothes out in public. She never had to be perfectly put together to be seen with me. She was comfortable in her own skin and that's what made.

The entire time we taxied and waited to be at cruising altitude, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Sitting next to me by the window, looking out as we passed up through the clouds, her headphones dangling from her ears, playing a song I had never heard before. She always does that, recommends or suggests songs I don't know, but end up loving because they're from her.

I maneuver my phone out of my pockets as subtly as I can and open my camera. She looks at peace staring out the window lost in her music. A sliver of light from the setting sun being casted across the side of her face.

Once the plane is up and we're cruising in the air, we move to the long couch, Tilly resting her head in my lap curling up with a blanket she had brought from home. She scrolls through her emails while I comb my fingers through her long hair that's splayed out across my lap. She puts her phone down after a minute and looks up at me, causing my hand to stop it's movements a second before continuing.

"Have you worked on anymore of that song we worked on yesterday morning?"

I smile and shake my head lightly, "No, I've been a little busy..."

My comment makes a blush run across her cheeks and she looks away from me for a moment. "I'm sorry you feel like you lost yourself somewhere along the way. I'm sorry you have to go through refinding who you are. The industry and the media never should have taken that away from you."

"Taken what from me?"

"Your identity."

I shake my head, "S'not your fault, Tilly–"

"I know it's not my fault, but I am. I'm sorry that they stripped something from you that never belonged to them."

I run my fingers through her hair again, settling on her words, looking at her with adoration, "Thank you."

We're quiet for a while, the drone of the plane being the only sound filling our ears before I speak and break the silence, my hand never ceasing it's movements, "I feel like I've been put in a box that I'm expected to fit in. Not necessarily by the fan base, but society too, and I feel this immense pressure to conform when I'm not comfortable with it."

"What makes you feel like you're in a box?"

"It's not really a new feeling, I guess I've always felt like this, it's just easier to get past it sometimes than others. I started really young, a teenage boy that didn't know who he was. Becoming this huge band seemingly overnight, and was told by multiple adults how I should dress and how I should look and act."

"You felt trapped because you didn't have a say in things?" I nod.

"As we, and I got older and the fans got older, management listened to what they were saying about our physical looks online; what seemed to be the most popular among them as we grew older. It was never really about how I wanted to look, it was about what would sell. I was so young and naive then. I believed them when they said it would help the band or it would help my image become what I wanted it to be. When in reality it was about what they wanted it to be.

"Now, I'm battling with that same feeling. Constantly thinking that I have to look a certain way to appease people so that I'm more likeable. I'm in my twenties for God's sake, and I care about what other people think and say of me. That's one of the reasons why you're such an inspiration to me. You don't care what people think, you don't care what articles say. You're happy just being yourself. I want to redefine what it means to be a male and be confident in my own skin again; to feel secure." I say

Tilly sits up, positioning herself to face me. Her hand meets the side of my face, "I know you'll find who you want to be with time, and I'll love you just the same when you do. Until you do, I'll be here, reminding you of your worth until you can see it for yourself."

I don't know what I ever did to deserve this woman. I don't know what I ever did right in a past life that caused me to be rewarded with her stumbling into my life, but I would do it a thousand times more if it meant I would find her in other lives to come. She makes me so overcome with love and infatuation whenever she speaks, and I've never felt a love like this.

"I love you, so much," I plant a kiss on her nose.

She hums through a smile, "I love you too."

She moves from her spot on the couch and nestling into my side, making herself as small as she can, curling under her blanket, "What are your plans tonight and tomorrow?"

I smile, thinking I know where she's going with her question. I wasn't ready to have to be away from her yet, and I think she was feeling the same, "Depends... what do you have planned?"

She smiled, pointing her head up from my shoulder, "Well, I was just thinking, we're going to get in pretty late since you changed our flight. We'll have to drive to my place to drop me off and then you'll have to drive all the way to your house before you can even think about settling down for the night. If you stayed at my place... you'd be able to go to bed sooner."

"Done." I say immediately without having to think. It was cute how she was still nervous to ask me to spend the night at her house, "Y'know, you don't have to ask me to stay over. And you don't have to ask to stay at my mine. You're always welcome. Whenever you need me, I'll be there."

The rest of the plane ride we sat and enjoyed each other's company. I was partly dreading being back in LA; sharing Tilly with Lily while we're at her apartment. I wanted her all to myself, like the last four days together weren't enough. I craved more.

By the time we stepped into Tilly's apartment, it was already almost nine and Tilly said Lily would be at the bar late since she was closing. I silently breathed a sigh of relief. Willow was ecstatic at seeing Tilly. She ran around the entire apartment from not being able to contain her excitement, and it took her close to thirty minutes before she completely calmed down.

We were sitting on the couch, Willow sitting in between us, my arm trying to reach around Tilly with the added space from Willow, who was sleeping but seemed to be shaking, "Does she always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Shake? I've noticed she does it whenever I'm here, sometimes more violently than others."

Tilly looks down at her dog as she strokes her back, "It'll sometimes happen randomly but it's mostly when there's company over."

"But... she's sleeping."

Tilly looks at me and nods, "It's her trauma response. I haven't had her since she was a puppy. I found her broken and gained her trust. She's been through a lot. We've been through a lot. After my parents got divorced, my mom wanted a dog for protection... you saw the neighborhood I grew up in. It doesn't exactly scream homeowner's association. I fell in love with WIllow the first time I saw her but my mom immediately wanted me to take her back. My brother, being the angel he was, convinced my mom to let me keep her. She wasn't much protection when it came to the events that happened in the neighborhood, but she protected me without even knowing or trying."

"She reminds me of myself in a way. She's scared of her own shadow, broken, and didn't know where to start. But she adapted, bettered herself, and moved on from the things in her life that she thought defined her."

I instinctively grab Tilly's hand that's still petting Willow's back. Not because she needed my comfort, but because her words hit me. Her saying things like this showed she had started to finally see the progress she had been making on herself. I couldn't have been more proud.

"You amaze me, Matilda Florence."

She gives me a soft smile before turning her head back to the show playing on the television. I didn't pay attention. I hadn't been for the last hour. I spent my time memorizing her side profile and all the features of her I've fallen in love with.

Her beauty was so effortless. Her way of life and way of thinking were too. Whether she was in a state of peace or deep thought. She's lived through shit that's made her wiser than anyone I've ever met. She's slowly teaching me how to love myself again without realizing.

"What did Jeff want yesterday morning over the phone?"

Her voice breaks my train of thought and my eyes dart up to meet hers. I wasn't ready to break the news to her, but I had told Jeff when we got back at the earliest, and we were back.

I took a deep breath, letting the right words come to me, "I have to go to Europe."

She smiles at me with a slight laugh in her voice, not fully understanding because I've kept some details still, "Okay.. and?"

"And it's a small press tour. Jeff wants me to start doing interviews again to get my foot in the spotlight so I'm 'relevant' when it comes time to drop an album. We'll be gone two weeks tops."

"We will?" She reaches for the remote and turns down the volume almost as if she was thinking that it was causing her to hear me wrong.

I purse my lips together, "Jeff needs you to come so we can get our own pictures for the interviews and we won't have to wait for stills to be posted to promote them on social media."

Her eyes grow wide, she blinks at me a couple times. "I'm sorry, what?"

I stay silent, not knowing what to say based on her reaction that I was not expecting. I know it's going to put her out of her comfort zone, but I thought part of her would be excited to go see Europe and travel around.

"I was told Helene would handle everything over there, and I would handle things when you're in LA. I'm not in a position where I can just travel freely right now. I have responsibilities and commitments. Jeff knew about these when he offered me the job," her breathing starts to pick up it's pace and my hand rubs circles across the back of hers.

"I know, baby. I know. He wanted me to be the one to tell you because he knew about those things but he really needs you. Helene is stuck on a project in Australia and she won't make it back in time. There's also another thing..."

Her eyes look up at me and I can see a glint of dread, "Oh God, what?"

"The team is going to Jamaica after the press tour to relax and write. Jeff has thrown around the idea of filming another mini documentary like I did with my first album, but at the very least, we need pictures from the trip that we could potentially use in the vinyl when it's released," I give her hand a gentle squeeze, sensing her tension and worrying about how she's going to react.

Potentially three weeks of being away from home that she didn't sign up for; that she was upfront about not wanting from the start, but my management is saying they need because of some damn exposure for promotions in the future.

I receive a blank stare from her that feels like it could last forever, "Harry, I don't even have a passport. I've never been out of the country before. I was upfront with Jeff about not being available for out of country things. If he's not listening to me about this, is he going to listen to my wishes about not going on tours?"

There's a hint of pain that radiates inside my chest. I forgot that was written into her contract before she signed it. Jeff gave me a copy later that day after she left the office so I could read over the terms and conditions she signed as well. She specifically voiced that tours of any kind were out of the question and she wrote it into her terms in her own handwriting before she signed the piece of paper. That doesn't mean that there still wasn't a part of me that was holding out hope for her to change her mind, especially with everything that's happened between us in the last month. I'd love for her to come on a tour if we have one. Especially because right now, the thought of being away from her brings me physical pain.

I take her hands into mine, "Baby, you can say no. This is just me giving you the information that Jeff has given me. About a month ago, I asked him to go through me if there were any events that you needed to be at. I wanted to be the one to break them to you, because I knew I would have the best idea of how you mental state was doing. I didn't want him to drop something like this on you if you were having one of the hardest weeks of your life gripping the fact that Oliver was gone. We've known about this tour for a few weeks, and I've put it off long enough. Until now, now that I can see you're handling things in a much healthier way."

"It doesn't feel like I have a choice."

"You do have a choice, Tils. You always have a choice. I'm not going to look or think of you any differently if you decide not to go through with the tour. We'll find something else to do, or Jeff can swallow his pride and deal with us waiting on screen grabs from recordings of the interviews for promotions," I give her a kind, reassuring smile. She tries to mirror it, but it doesn't come across just right, still riddled with uncertainty.

"You don't have to give me an answer right now. You can think about it and give me an answer tomorrow night, yeah?" She thinks for a moment and then nods her head softly.

I lean in and kiss her forehead gently. "Thank you," her words come out as a whisper, but they're sincere. She was truly grateful for my understanding.

"Why don't we go to bed? Sleep off the decision, maybe you'll feel like your head is clearer in the morning?"

She hums in appreciation and nods her head, pushing herself off the couch. I turn off the tv and follow her to her bedroom, Willow in tow behind us. We slide into bed, facing each other in the dark room. The only light illuminating the space was the light of a street lamp shining through her blinds.

I tuck some hair behind her neck, my fingers grazing the line of her jaw before grabbing her hand in mine that was tucked under her chin, "You know I love you, right?"

She nods her head, a smile growing across her face.

"And you know I would never ask you to do something for me that you didn't want to do right?"

She nods her head again.

"Good," I plant a gentle kiss on her nose as Willow finds a spot to lay in between the two of us.

–

"All of this for just a silly little date night?" Her eyes were gleaming back at me with excitement after turning from the helicopter.

I smile back at her, unable to remain untouched by the joy she was radiating into the space around her and on to me. "Tilly Florence. My feelings for you are not small, nor silly."

She giggles as I continue, "You deserve much bigger, but this is all I could pull together on such short notice. Next time, someone should give me more of a heads up when they want a date night."

She shakes her head at me, her smile growing bigger than I thought it could, "Oh, you act like an elderly man. Sprinkle some spontaneity into your life, Styles."

I laugh at her sass, a laugh that makes the corners of my eyes crinkle, and an audible sound filter through the air between us. I step next to her, offering my arm for her to grab, leading us toward the helicopter after she links us together.

We're buckled, given the safety speech and then the doors are shut on us. I grab a bottle of champagne sitting next to me and pour us each a glass before handing her one. She nods her head as a thank you. I lift my glass up slightly, "To us."

She raises an eyebrow, but lifts her glass up as I do, "To us?"

"I know a good thing when I see one, Matilda. And good things deserve to be celebrated," I plaster the widest grin I can onto my face and she does the same, a small giggle escaping from her lips.

We clink our glasses together and take a sip as the helicopter pulls us into the air away from the helipad. It wasn't long before we were met with the most beautiful views of the grand canyon I had ever seen. The sun hitting the faces of the cliff sides, accentuating the colors of the rocks and clay that were layered together; causing them to be more radiant than usual.

I look across at Tilly, her eyes are trained on the view, sipping her drink occasionally but seemingly unable to bring her eyes away from the window. The helicopter turns, causing the light to shine through one of the windows and in turn, making her tanned skin glow from the golden hour sun. She's the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She doesn't even have to try.

This was thrown together in such a hurry, we were sitting on the couch in our lounge clothes when she said she wanted a date night. This company doing helicopter tours said they had a slot available but the time slot was in an hour from when I called and it was about a forty five minute drive from where we were. She didn't have time to get ready, just to change into warmer clothes. Her face bare, her hair tied in a loose, messy bun on the top of her head. But she looked effortlessly flawless. One of the many things I loved about her.

She didn't care what other people thought of her. She didn't need their approval. Hell, she didn't need my approval, or my compliments, but I made sure to give them to her anyway whenever I got the chance. She deserved to know, even though I had a hunch that she already did based on how confidence emitted from her like radiation from an old war zone. Such a stark contrast from when I met her. The Tilly then was sheltered, reserved, shy, and bleeding from years of hurt, confusion and mistreatment that no one walked her through.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" My vision focuses back to her, not realizing I was stuck in a daydream.

"Just lost in thought," I say with a smile.

"Good thoughts, I hope?"

"The best thoughts," I wear a close-lipped smile and nod my head to her, "I love you, know that?"

She nods her head at me, "I know. I love you, too."

The cabin of the helicopter sways a bit, causing our loving gaze to break from each other as we try to steady our glasses in an attempt to not spill champagne all over us. The pilot comes voice rings through our headsets apologizing.

"We'll be experiencing some slight turbulence for the next few minutes as we enter a patch of fog from the rain. It's only a patch, and shouldn't last too long. We'll come back on and let you know when we're through it," the headset clicks signifying he left our channel.

Tilly and I meet each other's eyes again, except her gaze is showing a different look. A look of concern and worry. Rightfully so, turbulence in a helicopter is never what you want to experience. I lean forward as far as my harness will allow me to, only able to intertwine my fingers tips with hers.

I squeezed as best as I could and sent her a reassuring smile, "It's no different than plane turbulence, love. It's normal and it'll be over soon."

She sends a fake smile back at me, trying to swallow her worries before training her eyes on the views outside in an attempt to distract herself. I keep leaning forward, keeping our fingers together to ground her in any way that I can in case turbulence picks up again.

It does, not too long after the first bout and Tilly leans her head back in her seat, her hand in mine letting go and gripping the seat next to her leg. I move to rub circles on her leg just above her knee, that being the only part of her I could reach now.

The turbulence doesn't let up this time. It starts slow, but gets more aggressive rapidly. I look up to the pilot's cabin, and they're frantically pressing buttons and flipping switches. "What's going on up there?!"

I don't get an answer, they're unable to hear me in their frantic state and from their headphones being on a different channel. "Hey!"

The helicopter starts dipping up and down and I hear an alarm go off from the cockpit.

"Harry..."

Her voice snaps my attention away from the emergency. There's tears spilling over her cheeks and brimming her eyes. She's trying to keep her lips closed to hold back her scared sobs, but it failing miserably. She was petrified.

I squeeze her knees, "Shh, it's okay. They're going to fix it, babe."

Except they don't.

Almost immediately I can hear more alarms going off, and the helicopter starts spinning. I look out the window. It's plummeting to the ground.

And then... black.

–

My eyes shoot open, my subconscious bringing me to awareness. My chest is heaves up and down as if I've ran the fastest race of my life. Beads of sweat pool at my hairline leaving my skin feeling clammy. I look to my left, my hand patting the bed gently, until I find it.

Her hand.

I grab it more frantically than I mean to and she stirs in her sleep, rolling over to face the opposite direction. I let go immediately, not wanting to startle her awake. She's safe.

I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the root a bit trying to center myself. Willow's laying against my leg and I feel her lift her head from the bed and look at me as if to check in, or judge me for disturbing her peaceful slumber.

I gently shift my weight in the bed, sliding off the mattress, careful to not wake up Tilly. Willow gets up when she feels me move and settles against Tilly instead as I make my way out of the bedroom door.

The hardwood in the living room is cold on my feet when I make my way into the kitchen. Leaning against the island for a moment, I try to gather myself before moving to the cupboards. Searching for anything that could be calming. A drink. A snack.

And then my eyes settle on a box of tea sitting at the front of a shelf. The same tea I've made for her so many times at my house when she's had a rough night. She loved it so much she got it for her own home, and the thought of that made me smile.

I grab a packet and start prepping water. By the time I've finished the tea, my breathing has slowed and my heart isn't racing as fast as it was, but my adrenaline was still trying to course through my system. I unlock the sliding glass door in the living room that leads to their small yard space and sit on one of the chairs. The air was sharp and cold, but I didn't make an effort to grab something to warm me up.

I stayed outside lost in my thoughts longer than I had thought. Before I knew it, the door was opening, bringing me out of my mind and I realize the sun had risen in the sky as Tilly steps outside.

"What are you doing out here?" Her voice is soft. She gently touches my shoulder, letting it graze along my back as she steps around the back of me to face me. She has a blanket in her hands.

I rack my brain for an explanation, not wanting to give my current state away. I don't ever have dreams when I sleep. It's not something I'm used to, and it's not something she used to watching me experience. She's always been the one with the nightmares and the flashbacks.

"Just thinking," I say simply, sending her a small smile. She takes the empty cup from my hand, setting it on the table in front of me before moving to sit on one of my legs. She spreads the blanket out over the two of us and I'm engulfed by the warmth of her body being trapped against me from the fabric as she leans back against my chest, resting her head on my shoulder.

"You don't always come outside on cold mornings to think before eight in the morning," She says. My arm moves around her back, pulling her close to me. The contact of her against me grounding me and bringing me some semblance of security from my racing mind.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice is quiet, almost unsure if that was the right thing to ask me, but she doesn't look at me.

I shake my head against her hair, "Not right now."

I know how she gets when I lose sleep. She hates when I stay up all night; granted it's typically because of her, but I think she would react the same if I told her it was my own mind keeping me up this time instead of hers.

She doesn't say anything further. She melts further into me as if knowing that's what I needed to feel in that moment. We stayed outside a while before she finally willed herself to get up, taking the blanket and her warmth with her.

She got ready for her photography job as I laid on the bed with Willow and watched her every step of the way. I'd steal glances of her in the mirror of her makeup table every now and then as she applied soft makeup to her face. She moved with ease, as if she was performing a routine she had been rehearsing for months. As she's pulling her shoes on, I get up from the bed, pulling my shirt on from yesterday on, not bothering to change because I knew I would just shower when I got back to my house. I grab my luggage and walk with Tilly to the door.

I drive her to the location of the job, parking in a parking spot and watching her gather all of her things. She looks over at me, "Thank you for driving me here. I know you're probably itching to get home."

I wasn't. I was dreading her stepping out of my car. She's my home.

"I'll drive you anywhere you need, love." I say softly. She finishes gathering her belongings in her hands and goes to reach for the door. Before her hand can make contact with the handle, my hand reaches over to her chin, turning her face to look at me while leaning over the center console.

I press my lips to hers with more force than I had meant to, causing her to falter back a bit before my hand reaches around her back to support us. Her hands let go of her things as they move to my face, her smile forming from the spontaneity of the kiss. I feel more grounded with her lips molded to mine. I feel like for a split second, things are okay and I haven't been on the brink of crashing all morning.

She forces me to release before I wanted to, worried she was going to be late for her gig, "What was that for?"

"Just because I love you," I say looking between her eyes and her lips again, "And to tell you I'm writing at Mitch's tonight if you want to come. Sarah will be there too."

She hums, nodding her head slightly, "I'll be there. I'll come over when I'm done here."

She looks at me a beat as her hand grazes the car door handle, but she leans in quickly again, planting one last quick kiss on my lips before finally opening the car door and stepping out.

She shuts the car door, walking towards the entrance of the building, but the moment that takes my breath away is when she looks back at me over her shoulder, sending me a small wave. I roll the window down and raise my voice, "I love you, know that?"

She giggles, turning around to face me with a smile as she walks backwards, "Without a doubt!"

She turns back around, opening the studio door only to disappear behind it, leaving me with my thoughts and the impending weight in my mind that I'm forced to face.

I hang up the phone, discarding it absentmindedly on the lounge chair before closing the space between us. I wrap my arms around her causing her to breathe in my scent like it was a cup of coffee that brewed specifically to wake her up.

"What did Jeffrey want?"

Her using his full name causes me to chuckle, "Oh, you know Jeff. Checking in about writing and where I'm at on the album."

Tilly opens her mouth to say something but she swallows it, letting the ambient noises from outside fill the air between us.

We spent the morning lounging around the house together and I couldn't get enough of being lazy with her. Having no schedule or agenda. She spent some time lounging by the pool, while I eventually found myself at the piano in the front foyer of the house, replaying the same few lines I came up with in Tilly's bedroom. 

I play it over and over until her soft voice breaks me from my concentration, "Wherr have I heard that one?" Tilly's leaning over the baby grand piano, her head resting in her hand on top of it.

"Uh... your bedroom actually. I wrote it while you were showering."

"Is there more to it?" Her face wears an inquisitive expression.

I shake my head, "It's all I got at the moment."

Suddenly her voice and facial expression grows softer, as if she's able to sense that it's about something sensitive, 'What's it about?"

"So far? Rediscovering yourself."

She nods her head in thought while looking around for something to say, "Finding who you are after hypothetically splitting from all you've ever known?"

All I can do is giggle in amazement at how she was able to piece it together so quickly. I nod my head, "You could say that."

She moves around the piano and sits next to me on the bench, "Play it again?"

I happily fulfill her request, placing my hands on the keys finding the notes from memory before playing.

What do you mean? I'm sorry by the way I'm never coming around It'd be so sweet if things just stayed the same

All the lights couldn't put out the dark Running through my heart Lights up and they know who you are Do you know who you are?

My hands stop abruptly at the end of what I had, "I don't know what to make the chorus or how to transition."

She furrows her brows somewhat, "The chorus? That wasn't it?" I shake my head.

"Well, it's chorus material," she pauses, "How do you think you'd feel after you found yourself after being told how you're supposed to be you for so long?"

I sit on her words for a moment before shrugging, "I don't know... On cloud nine? I guess like a light was on me? As if everything is suddenly brighter and clearer."

Tilly nods her head, thinking, then instructs me to play the same notes as before. When she finds her place in the music she speaks out lyrics:

What do you mean? I'm sorry by the way I'm never coming back down

Tilly blushes and slouches in her chair slightly, clearly uncomfortable and afraid I'm not going to like it. She looks up at me a moment, "If you had a choice of staying in the situation you were in, would you have if the decision wasn't made for you? Just because it was familiar?"

My posture slouches, her question hitting me like a ton of bricks, "I don't think so. As much as I loved the experience, I don't think I could have stayed in that environment forever, or else I wouldn't be able to continue doing music in general. It's important to make music that's me and not someone else. There were a lot of opinions thrown at us when we wrote as younger artists together, and we were never writing by ourselves."

Tilly takes a moment to type out what she had sang before, then motions for me to play the chords again.

Can't you see? I could but wouldn't stay Wouldn't put it like that

She stops, and I find myself mentally wanting to encourage her to keep going; already missing watching her mind and creativity work.

"The last part was just an idea, you had mentioned a couple members were burnt out, I just assumed one of them was you."

I smile softly at her, giving a reassuring nod and her posture straightens a bit, "No, I like it. I need a guitar to finish it though. I think it'll sound better with what I had in your room with drums in the background," I look at the time on my phone, "And we need to eat something and head to the canyon so we can get there before the sun sets."

The four hour car ride was filled with conversation and a lot of laughter. She has this easy way of making me laugh from the simplest things, and it came so naturally to her. I was in awe about the growth she's exhibited this trip from the last one, and I don't think she even realizes the strides she's made or that she was even making them when she was in the moment. We're going to Ollie's favorite spot, a place she spent a lot of important moments at with him, for his birthday; and yet, she's spent the moment relaxing with me around the house without a care in the world, and she's sitting in the passenger seat giving me a jokingly hard time about liking to spend some of my birthdays alone.

"What's your favorite birthday memory?"

I can tell my question takes her by surprise. She slumps back in her seat, a bit tense. She doesn't look at me when she talks next, "There's too many good ones to pick from."

She starts fidgeting, nervously picking the lint off her leggings, and biting her cheek; I can tell she's hiding something. It's written all over her face and her body language, that's now more withdrawn into herself than before. I choose to let it go again. She was carefree all morning, I didn't want to bring her to a place of darkness after she was feeling better compared to yesterday.

She eventually turns the question on me, asking me what my favorite has been. I pause for a moment and think, "I like spending time to myself on my birthdays sometimes, but I think my favorite ones have been the ones that I've spent on tour. There are a select number of things that could top the feeling of spending your birthday with thousands of other people, enjoying the same music that you do."

She falls quiet again, not knowing what to say, probably because it's a rare feeling to be able to experience. "When's your birthday, Tilly?"

"August sixth."

It's dark when we get to the canyon. I get started on making the fire while Tilly starts setting out our chairs, but I stop her. I explained I had something else planned but I needed a moment to get it set up. She gives me a confused look but saunters over to the cairns, lost in thought. 

I finish the fire and move to setting up our spot. Filling a place next to the fire pit with blankets, pillows, wine from the restaurant last week, wine glasses, and a small cake with a single candle. I turn to Tilly, she's studying every cairn with great detail and care, her eyes showing she's still lost in thought about something as she studies them while biting her cheek. 

I hold up the cake with the unlit candle, "Tils..."

She looks up at me startled, not expecting me to speak. Her eyes graze over my face and the cake in my hands. I hold up a small lighter and a soft smile showers her face as she comes up to me, reading the scripted print I had put on the cake.

Happy Birthday Ollie

We take a seat on the blankets I had piled together to make a little pad, taking a glass of wine in each of our hands. I take the lighter in my hand, looking to Tilly as if asking for permission and as a silent check in. She nods for me to continue. The candle ignites with a single spark from the lighter casting a light over the white frosting of the cake.

"He hated being sung to..." She looks up at me.

I smile and nod, "I know. Mitch and I always did it anyway just to piss him off. He especially hated it when we were loud."

She lets out a giggle, covering her mouth with the wine glass in her hand, "Then, by all means. Let's piss him off."

I smile back at her, loving her joyful persona she has in this moment, wishing I could see it all the time. I have seen it more this trip than I think I ever have, but I find myself wanting more and more of it. 

I start singing the classic song, Tilly following my lead and joining in. We started out low, gradually increasing our volume until we were yelling the last couple line with our arms outstretched dramatically. We lower them at the end of the song and a rush of a cold breeze blows past us, causing goosebumps to form over my arms under my sweatshirt. Tilly crosses her arms trying to find warmth from the sudden temperature change. The candle goes out.

Our gazes catch each other's, a soft smile crosses her face and I give her a knowing smile back at what I already know she's thinking. Oliver. 

    I grab the utensils I had brought with me and we cut into the cake, serving ourselves before falling into a comfortable silence as we slowly ate.

"Mitch and I's favorite thing to do on his birthday was make his life a living hell," I blurt out into the silence with a subtle laugh. She looks over at me, confused why we would do that to her brother.

"There was nothing more the man hated more, than having attention on him. So we put the attention on him whenever we could. Had restaurant staff sing to him if we were out to eat, shouted it in public where ever we were so random strangers would wish him a happy birthday. Anything we could to torment him," I start laughing at a memory that came to mind, "Last year, Mitch and I split a music gram to go to his house at seven in the morning to wake him up. They were loud about it, and all his neighbors peeked out of their door to see what was happening."

She starts laughing uncontrollably, suddenly picturing her brother's reaction in her head. Her genuine laughter was enough to make me start laughing; feeling joy from her joy. I look at her in amazement. The woman who couldn't stand the thought of her brother without a panic attack laughing at a story about her brother and his friends two months later.

Our laughter subsides, and I find myself getting lost in Tilly's features. The way her brown eyes glisten under the firelight, shadows from the fire dancing across her face in the flickers of the wood burning, her blond hair falling over her shoulders, framing her face. The way the corners of her lips curl up naturally, making it seem as though she was in a constant state of peace.

"You're so beautiful, Tilly."

She smiles, "Thank you."

"I remember when I saw you for the first time with your brother in the studio. You were sitting on a stool with a guitar and headphones on. You looked like you belonged in the studio. I haven't, to this day, been able to get the image out of my head. 

She chuckles and shakes her head at me, "Are you always this soft?"

I think more a moment trying to think of something witty to say, but I fall short. "Only for you, love. Only for you."

Tilly laughs again, moving the contents of the blankets away so she has room to lay down. She lowers herself to the pillows, head facing the sky. I can audibly hear her breath hitch in her throat as I'm following suit, moving her head so my arm was under her, cradling her side.

"Canyon Moon."

"What'd you say, babe?" My arm instinctively tightens around her.

"Before Oliver started bringing me here, he always talked about canyon moons and how beautiful they were. Said that what made them so beautiful was it's confidence. It's bigger and shines brighter than the moons in the city," She explains, "I remember being so mesmerized by them when I finally got to see one; I still am. He used to call me a canyon moon. Especially when I was particularly hard on myself or how I looked."

I train my eyes to the sky above us and am met with the prettiest sight in nature I had ever seen. The moon, seemingly three times the size it usually was, glowing over us, stars trying to outshine it's light around it, but failing miserably. 

My eyes move to Tilly's side profile, exhaling a breath I didn't know I had waiting in my chest, "He was right. You are a canyon moon. I used to compare you to the sun and the moon, but you're a canyon moon. Larger than life, radiating confidence, glowing three times brighter in any darkness you're put in."

Tilly turns her head to look at me, and I can't help but melt my lips in hers, soaking up her smell and taste before I pull away. When I do, I turn my attention back to the sky.

She has a smile on her face from my sudden action that laces through her words as she speaks, "You're like the canyon moon too. You're bright and guiding. You've guided me out of a darkness that I thought would be impossible to escape from. This trip would have been a disaster two months ago, but you... You were patient for two months, letting me process and heal the way I needed to without judgement. You're the reason I'm able to sit here at this fire pit and not lose control at the mere mention of my brother."

I turn over on my side to face her, pulling my arm out from under Tilly. She mimics my movements and faces me on her side, giving me a soft smile that sends shivers down my spine at the very sight of it. I move my hands to her face, grasping the sides firmly so she's looking straight in my eyes, "I would do it again and again; a thousand times over for you. You are worth every moment of that journey. Seeing who you have become is worth the journey."

My hands linger on the sides of her face for longer than they probably should have. I remove them and let the quiet air engulf us. I get lost in thought thinking about how Oliver would use a canyon moon image to help her see her worth and potential when she needed reminders.

"You said Oliver used canyon moon as a reminder to not be so hard on yourself?"

She nods, her hands tucked under her head that's laying on a plush pillow, looking at me with her big brown eyes.

"Do you still struggle with being hard on yourself?"

She nods again.

"I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you. How beautiful and inspiring you are." Tilly stays quiet at my statement, probably unsure of what to say, but I don't think there was anything for her to say. Me speaking that between us wasn't going to magically cause her to see her own beauty, strength and worth. It was going to have to be something that I teach and prove to her through my words and my actions over time.

We laid quietly for a while before I had to get up to add more wood to the fire. After I was done, I faced Tilly who was laying on the blankets watching me. I outstretch my hands to her; she takes them, and I pull her up to her feet. I step us around the fire pit into a space between the fire and the cairns. I slowly pull her closer to me, swaying our bodies back and forth once they make contact. 

I feel Tilly pull her face back from my chest a second to look at me as I intertwine our fingers together, "No music this time?"

I rest my chin on her head as she moves her head back to my chest, "Not this time. I just want to be here in this moment with you."

Tilly doesn't say anything, but I can feel a slow smile creep across her lips against my chest. We let the silence creep over us, the crackling of the fire being our playlist as we swayed in the dancing shadows of the fire.

After a while of being in my own thoughts, lost in her presence, I move my chin from her head, replacing it with my cheek on top of her head, "Tilly?"

Tilly hums a response. "You're not close with your parents, are you?"

I can feel her body tense up in response to my question and I start rubbing my hands along her lower back to try to soothe the immediate reaction it brought to her. It wasn't my intention to make her on edge or take her by surprise.

Her voice comes out broken; shocked by my question, "How'd you–"

"The way you've talked about your father treated you, I wouldn't blame you for cutting contact with him. And you said your mum moved across town... We've been here two days and you haven't made plans to see her."

She doesn't move to look at me, she doesn't move at all, as if my words have frozen her in time, "No, not anymore."

Her confirmation leaves a heaviness in the air that neither of us meant to invite in or saw coming. I don't press on the subject further, knowing it could only do more harm than good in this moment. Instead, I wrap my arms around her tighter, wanting to shield her from the world and all the hurt she's had to endure in her lifetime.

Time passes faster than I expected. The fire gets dimmer and dimmer before I finally have to break myself away from her hold to bring it back from hot embers because I was putting off having to leave her touch. Tilly turns her attention to the cairns again, studying the two together that were closest to the fire pit. It gets me to thinking that maybe she's wondering what they are but doesn't want to inquire.

"Oliver said those were used to mark trails," I explain.

She nods, "Yeah, they can be. These four are something different though."

*play Because Of You - Kelly Clarkson*

She points to the four of them. My eyes dart to the two in front of us, then to the two a little ways away before returning before taking steps towards her, "Something between you and Ollie?"

She nods again, a slow smile forming on her lips. "These two represent Oliver and I," she points to the two that are separated from the ones we're looking at, "and then the far two are our parents."

"Why are they separated?"

She looks at them, biting her cheek, obviously remembering a distant memory, getting lost in her head again, or maybe both. When she speaks, her voice is softer, "Because it was only ever Oliver and I growing up... and now..."

I look over at her, her broken voice catching my attention, "You're not alone, Tilly. The farthest from it. Family doesn't just mean who you're related to or who you live with. You can choose your family. You can start a new one if your current one is shit."

I turn on my heel to finish the fire, leaving her to stew in the words I left to hover over us. When I've gotten the fire to the level I want it, I look up and Tilly is charging to a cairn away from the fire pit. "Tilly?"

Tilly knocks the tallest cairn down, then begins to move the rocks into a pile. She struggles with the weight of the stones and I move to help her, moving them into a pile closer to the fire pit. When they're all moved, she silently takes my hand, and positions me in a particular spot before she starts stacking the rocks. Once it's too tall, she hands me three of the stones to stack, lining up perfectly with the height of my head. 

She pulls out her phone to take a picture. At first I stand in front of the cairns awkwardly, unsure of what to do; but then I embrace it. Putting as big of a smile on my face as I could while I stood between the two cairns, giving the camera two cheesy thumbs up. After, we take a step back and look at the cairn she just made.

I look over at her, her eyes gleaming, "What is this?"

All she does is admire her creation in front of her for a moment; the three cairns lined up side by side next to each other. When she finally turns to me, I can tell her eyes are glossy from tears welling up at her waterline. 

"I'm making my own family."

I can't help the smile that's forming on my lips as I pull her to my side, looking at the cairns together, "I'm proud of you, know that?"

Tilly hums a yes to me but says nothing further.

I move my hand to her hip and spin her to face me, both of my hands firmly pressing to her waist. Her hands find the bottom of the fabric of my sweatshirt, raising it a little as she gently places her hands to my torso to center herself; her fingers grazing my skin underneath. I press my forehead to Tilly's, "I love your resilience, Tilly; what you've overcome... It's inspiring."

Tilly smiles, her forehead still pressed to mine, but suddenly moves her head back to look at me. The look in her eyes tells me she has something weighing on her, something that she doesn't know how to form into words, or that she doesn't know if she's ready to do so yet. Something from the depths of her soul but she's trying to find the way to say it so that I'll hear it. She places a hand on my face with the most gentle touch I've ever felt from someone. 

    "I love you, Harry."

Her words reach into my chest and take the breath I had been storing there. I forget how to breathe; I forget how to think; I forget how to speak.

"I told you to wait... until you knew what you felt–"

She stops me, places both of her hands flat on my chest, "I did wait, and I do know how I feel. I think I've loved you for a little while. It just took me until now to know what real, healthy love looks like, and it's you."

My hands gradually move to the side of her face, my eyes never leaving hers until my face is closing the space between hers, planting a soft, slow kiss onto her lips. Lacing it with the meaning of the words I said to her the week prior. I press her lips into mine, her hands snaking around to my back trying to make use closer than we already were. Our kiss continues, unhurried, gentle; everything that we've been with and to each other the last two months.

She's everything I didn't know I needed. She's kind, she's understanding, she's empathetic. She's safe. She's home. Everything that I've never been able to find in one woman, until now. Her touch is intoxicating, her smell mesmerizing, and her view on life is refreshing. It's so easy to get lost in her, and in her way of thinking. I could write an entire dissertation and teach an entire course about her qualities and the pull that she has on me this early into knowing her. 

Thunder off in the distance claps low, making it's appearance known and it startles Tilly away from my mouth, her heart skipping a beat at the sudden sound. She tenses, and then relaxes when she realizes what it was, melting into my arms while putting her head to my chest.

My arms wrap around her instinctively, one around her back and one around her head, shielding her, "I love you too, Tils."

Tilly's POV

I was exhausted by the time we packed the car and left Oliver's spot and we still had a four hour ride back to the house; but I forced myself to stay awake. Wanting to live in the moment and the euphoria I was living off of after tonight. I felt happy. I felt liberated. I was on cloud nine and I never wanted to come back down.

More importantly, it was our last night together before we had to go back home, and I wasn't ready to go back to reality. Back to schedules and agendas and photography projects and editing pictures that weren't of him. I wanted to stay in the bubble we created within the rental house and shut out our outside responsibilities. How was I supposed to continue on normally after part of my heart has been mended, and another part of my heart gained another piece this weekend?

Harry drove the entire way back to the house holding my hand across the center console in my lap. My head resting on his shoulder, my other arm wrapped around his. I thumbed his cross tattoo for longer than I probably should have, but I couldn't help it. I had an incessant need to be as close to him as possible and I wasn't ashamed of it. I craved him. I craved him in ways I've never craved anyone before. It was scary and exhilarating all at the same time. 

I tried helping him bring things in from the car from the night but he insisted I get ready for bed and relax. That he would be up soon. He even waited until I was almost in the house before he opened the trunk so I couldn't protest. He didn't surface in the master bedroom for another hour, in which time I was able to take a shower and towel dry my hair.

Stepping out of the bathroom into the dimly lit bedroom, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only shorts, his bareback to me, thumbing through his phone. He doesn't hear me pad across the room to the bed. Doesn't even shift, when the bed moves after I climb my way on top of it. He doesn't react until my arms are wrapped around his chest, clasping in front of him, my face sinking against the curve of his neck.

"Baby..." I let my breath linger across his sensitive skin as I breathed out a sigh, finally feeling calmer now that I was in his presence again. 

His phone is immediately placed on the nightstand and leans his back into my chest, his head falling back on my shoulder. He doesn't say anything, just seems to be completely taken over by my touch. I can't get over how beautiful he, and all the things about him truly are. It's something I don't think I'll ever be able to formulate into words cohesive enough to get him to understand. I kind of liked the idea of that though. Like his beauty was for me, and only me to see and truly understand.

"I love when you call me that, Tilly," he groans out and I smile against his neck planting a soft kiss before pulling back slightly.

"I love you, baby," I say breathlessly.

He pulls away from my grasp and faces me, breaking the hold I had around his chest. He senses I'm up to something. One of his hands cradles my cheek, searching in my eyes for something, "What are you doing..."

I smile softly, placing one of my hands on his knee moving up his thigh a little, "I need to be close to you."

He gives me a slight nod before trying to move me to lay down on the bed next to him. My hand flies to his resting on my waist, pulling it away. He thought I meant lying with each other in bed. His eyes dart to mine in confusion. I look him straight in the eye as I explain, "I want to get lost in you tonight."

His eyes darken for a moment but return in the blink of an eye, "Are you sure?"

     The thing about him that I'm founding out more and more as everyday goes on, is I've never been more sure about anything or anyone in my life than I am with him. He's secure and safe. I'd be an idiot to not trust him in this moment. 

I thumb light brushstrokes across his cheek with my thumb, giving him a close lipped smile and nodding my answer to him; the butterflies taking over and making it near impossible for me to speak. Without breaking our gaze, his hand slips to my bare knee moving upwards at an agonizingly slow pace. His eyes searched mine, as if searching for permission. I leaned forward, planting a kiss on his plump lips as my answer.

He inhales when we make contact, drinking in the touch of our lips as his hand on my leg finds it's way to my hip; pausing at the hem of his t-shirt that was hugging my frame. He was being slow; taking his time with controlled movements and it was euphoric, but driving me crazy all at the same time. 

I grab his wrist that belongs to the hand on my upper thigh, pushing it up to my waist under the shirt granting myself a chuckle from him against my lips. He keeps the tempo of our kiss as his hand traces the lace of my underwear before he finally does pull back looking at me with a smirk.

"Lace?" his left dimple shows more prominently with his smirk engraved on his face, "Y'been thinking about this? Been planning it?"

My face flushes, then flushes even more when I recognize what it's doing as a response to his words. My hand flies to the back of his neck, pulling his face closer to mine, "Shut up."

He chuckles as I meet my lips to his again, this time more frenzied and rushed than before. My tongue asks for entrance along his bottom lip. He's hesitant for a beat before he grants me access, allowing our tongues to dance together a moment. His hand slides from my waist the the band of my underwear, hooking one finger between the fabric and my skin. I swear the feeling alone of his finger by my pelvis would have been enough to send me over the edge.

He pulls away from the kiss, a soft demeanor in his eyes staring back at me, "Has anyone?"

His finger inches closer to my core. I swallow hard, blushing at the truth that was stirring in my head waiting to be let out, "I've been with two other people. Sex never ended well for me with them; just a means to an end of drunken nights out. Felt more like a chore than anything."

He furrows his eyebrows together, his soft, nonjudgmental exterior never leaving his face, "You've never finished."

I shake my head at his statement. He pulls his finger out of my waistband, his other hand flying up to grip my neck, thumb resting on my cheek bone. He looks me in the eyes while he subtly and gently moves me to lay down on my back. He entangles our legs, straddling one of mine as he lowers himself on me, his hand still caressing my cheek. He plants a soft kiss on my lips, letting them linger together before taking them away and bringing them back again. His movements are tender.

My hands grip his biceps as he takes his time caressing my lips with his. He's ver controlled and loving all at the same time. A free hand of his travels back down to my hip, gripping it kindly, his fingertips digging into my back as they wrap around my frame ever so slightly. He forces his hand to wedge between my back and the mattress, lifting me up slightly into his chest as if he couldn't be closer to me.

My hands find the band of his shorts, tracing the lining around his front before his hands stop me. Our eyes flick to each other and he shakes his head, his voice low but filled with something else I've never heard from him before. Consideration. "I have to be careful with you."

"Y'have to be careful with me?" My voice matches his tone, almost coming out as a breathless whisper. 

"Tonight's not about me, it's not about us. S'about you, Tilly. I'm going to show you how it should've happened," metaphorical light shines through his eyes as he speaks his words, causing heat to rise in my abdomen. 

Our eyes search each other's a moment more before he looks over my body, his fingertips finding the hem of the shirt and lifting slightly before looking back at me, "This okay?"

I fervently nod my head in response. He drags the garment over my body, lifting me a little so it wouldn't get stuck between me and the mattress. His eyes don't look down, they're still locked on my face. He's taking his time, while also showing me respect. He doesn't have to rush this, because this isn't for him. This isn't about him, this is about me learning how I should have been treated and I should have been loved. Coming to this realization causes me to fall in love with him all over again. 

He plants a kiss on my lips before trailing them down to my shoulder, his hand on my hip absentmindedly tracing soft lines up my torso, "You're so beautiful, Tilly. Mean that with everything I have. Everything I am."

His kisses trail down my arm softly stopping above my elbow before he lets them meet my ribcage, just under the line of my breast. My fingers comb through his windblown hair from the night as if it's trying to tell a story. I watch as he leaves damp kisses across my stomach, saying thank you over and over on the body I had been apologizing for my entire life. 

He stops when he hits the line of my underwear, but he doesn't move them. He shifts down my body, holding his weight up so he's hovering over my pelvis, both of his elbows on either side of my thighs. His hands run up to my hips, tracing the stretch marks that have come to call them their home, leaving faint, sloppy kisses over them.

His eyes look up at me as he hooks his pointer fingers into the band of my underwear, "This okay, love?"

I exhale a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, nodding my head, watching his every move in such detail. He plants a kiss below my belly button before gently sliding the lace completely off my legs. He discards them on the floor before moving back up so his face meets mine again. He grips my face in his hand, kissing me deeper than he ever has before. As if trying to get me to feel the love that he was feeling for me in this moment. The crazy part about everything is that I do. 

His kiss trails to my neck, stopping behind my ear until he finds my sweet spot. He sucks gently and I involuntarily let out a sighed moan. He groans into my neck just from hearing my reaction to the hold he has on me. A hand trails to my thigh again, gently moving upwards to my pelvis, stopping on the inside of my thigh. He traces gentle circles a moment, the feeling it caused about to make me combust.

"H... you're teasing," he chuckles into my neck. The new nickname for him had just slipped out, but I was too overcome by his hand and mouth to care.

He slips one finger between where I was throbbing for him. He works his digit, adding and subtracting them when it counted, sending me into a blind fit of euphoria. He slipped two of his fingers in, pumping gently before curving his fingers and hitting something that I've never felt before.

My hips buck reflexively and it takes me by surprise. Harry laughs before placing a kiss on my hip bone, "There it is."

His simple sentence comes out in a singsong voice as he pulls his fingers back, only to repeat his motion again, the pleasure soaring through me at the speed of light all the way to my limbs. He looks up at me, his eyes a dark green again, "Your g-spot."

Harry works it a couple more times, dragging out his movements knowing I enjoyed the feeling, but wanted to savor the moment as much as he possibly could. His thumb moves to my bud, moving circles around it before moving his fingers back to my spot. His movements are faster now, adding more pressure.

My head falls back causing the hand that's interlocked in his hair to come with it a bit, tugging at his hair. He groans, planting a kiss on my inner thigh as he watches my reaction, "You're so pretty, baby."

His maneuvers take my breath away; have me speechless. All I can do is collapse back on the bed, my arms that were once holding me giving out as my back arches. Harry's free hand presses flatly on my stomach, "Stay still for me, baby."

I try my best, but my hips want to move without my consent. My thighs start to shake, and it causes me to worry. I involuntarily clench around his fingers. My head shoots up, a look of concern mixed with ecstasy written on my face as I look at Harry who's drinking up my reaction, "It's okay, Tilly. You can let go with me."

My head swings back as his thumb applies more pressure. He starts to leave sloppy kisses on my thigh again, soft and slow as my shaking gets worse. My mind is incoherent, I can't process my thoughts, too wrapped up in the feeling of him. Pressure builds in my abdomen almost as soon as Harry's hand presses down on my stomach slightly.

I feel the pressure continue to rise until I can't hold on any longer. My head and back arch into the pillows of the bed, my body convulsing, my eyesight white and clouded as I completely come undone. Harry's hand lingers, letting me ride out the high he just gave me until it became too sensitive. He kisses my body over and over again until he sees I've come to. He kisses me delicately before moving to the bathroom. Resurfacing a moment later with a glass of water, grabbing another pair of underwear from the top of my suitcase and grabbing the t-shirt from the floor of the bedroom, he stands at the foot of the bed.

"C'mere."

I shimmy my way to him before he places the shirt over my head, waiting for me to put my arms through the slots. He pushes me back slightly so I'm lying down again and places the new pair of underwear around my ankles before sliding it up to my hips.

"Dressing me?" My voice comes out broken from my shortness of breath, still not recovered from our activities. 

He hands me the water with a gentle smile, "Have to take care of my girl, don't I?"

The biggest smile spreads across my face at his words. I don't try to hide it. Why would I? After he's made me feel the most loved and seen than anyone in my life ever has.

I quietly exit the bedroom, making my way downstairs. The house felt weird with only two people occupying it. Last time, Mitch filled it with life and it just felt livelier. I opened the windows and doors in the living room to let the fresh air in, the sound of the birds filling the space along with the faint rippling sound of the fountain running at the back of the property. It was tranquil.

I take the time to order breakfast to be delivered to the house from a local cafe, it was set to be delivered in an hour. I collapsed onto a couch in the living room facing the open back door with a clear view of the sunrise. I pulled the collar of Harry's hoodie up to my face, breathing in his scent.

I love him.

I actually came to that realization last night. I love him.

I run through the ways I could tell him in my head. None of them seeming right. It didn't have to be some grand gesture, but I wanted the timing to be right. Was a trip planned around my dead brother even the right place to do it?

My phone vibrates on the couch pulling me out of my thoughts. It's lily sending me a picture of Willow while they're out walking.

Lily: Next time you go out of  town, please tell your dog when  you're coming home so she's not  up at an ungodly hour wanting  to walk around the neighborhood  looking for you.

Tilly: Sorry, Lil. I'll try my  best next time xo

I threw it back on the couch, only for Lily to call me a minute later, "Hello?"

"Why are you up so early? Did something happen yesterday? Last night? Did you spiral? Are you actively spiraling?"

"No, not yet. I honestly don't know why I'm awake." I say.

"Y'got something on your mind, don't you?" Lily always knew how to read me. Even when she couldn't see my face, she picked up on little changes in my voice and how I spoke to her. There really was no hiding or tiptoeing around subjects with her.

"Yeah actually," I pause, formulating my next sentence carefully, then ultimately deciding to just blurt it out to her, "I love him, Lil. I love him and I don't know what to do about it."

"Holy shit," is all she says and for a second I think she might have passed out from shock from her lack of response. 

"I know... I've never told someone that–romantically. I don't know how. Do I have to wait for the right moment? Is this trip the right time and place?"

"Tilly, Tils. Relax. You're overthinking it. It doesn't have to be a big thought out gesture like a proposal. When you feel the moment is right, you just tell him how you feel," her voice is soothing through the phone, but it doesn't stop my mind from coming up with 'what ifs.'

"What if the moment never feels right?"

"It will. If you really love him and this isn't just lust manifesting in other ways, you'll feel it, babe. And don't stress about him not saying it back, he pretty much already has."

"Well, I wasn't until you just brought it up," my heart quickens with the thought of him shooting me down, denying me when I decide to wear my heart out on my sleeve for the first time in my life. 

"Tilly, him admitting to being in love with you is the first step. If I had to guess, I think he's loved you for a long time, and he's just been too scared to say anything. Even if I didn't know that detail, it's obvious he's head over heels for you," Lily takes a deep breath in the middle of her lecture, "He looks at you with more admiration than I've ever seen. He looks at you like you hung the stars for him. I can't tell you how to say it. Your mind will kind of make the decision for you as if you don't have control over it."

I roll my eyes and say with sarcasm, "Thanks for your help."

"I'm sorry. It'll be fine, babe. You'll be fine. I'm going back to bed before I have to get up for class. I love you. Keep me updated."

I hang up, throwing my phone back down on the couch and sitting in the tranquil sounds of the morning for a while. Replaying the night in front of the museum and what Harry said. He seemed like he had the utmost control over his thoughts in that moment. It didn't seem like he blurted it out in the heat of the moment. 

Before I knew it, there was a knock at the door. I collected the food from the front steps, shutting the door behind me. There had been no sounds upstairs coming from the room hinting he was awake. I take the food out of the bag and plate it up before carefully balancing everything on my way upstairs.

I set the plates of food on the nightstand before lowering myself on the bed. Harry's back is to me, facing the open door. I lean on him, wrapping an arm around him and resting my head on the ball of his bare shoulder. He stirs a minute at my added weight, eyes fluttering open before wincing from the light in his eyes.

"Good morning," I smile at his facial expression as he starts to wake up.

He rolls over to his back, looking up at me with a half-asleep smile, and the tone of sleep that came from his lips mixed with what he said could have been enough to cause me to make out with him if I didn't have self control, "Good morning, baby."

He pulls me on top of him, clasping his hands together on my lower back.

"You're up early," he looks at me, his head propped up on a pillow, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

"And you're not. I got impatient and ordered breakfast," I pressed a kiss to his lips before pushing off his chest. He sits up, the duvet falling down his torso, exposing the branch tattoos on his pelvis peeking out of the waistband of his shorts.

I hand him his plate and his coffee to which he thanks me before he recognizes the garment I'm wearing. A small smile plays on his lips, "You're stealing from my suitcase now?"

"I was cold getting out of bed, and it was available."

He moves over in bed for me to sit. I scoot myself close to him, almost leaning on him. We were quiet as we ate, but we stole glances as we did when we thought the other wasn't looking. When he was done, he reached across me to put his plate on the nightstand, kissing me on the cheek as he passed before he stands and moves to the bathroom to shower.

The morning sun was higher in the sky now, casting a brighter light and warmer air. I take my coffee to the balcony, lying back on one of the lounge chairs. I welcome the comfortably warm feeling of it on my skin. Harry comes out and finds me, his hair damp, his bare chest littered with water droplets from not drying off completely. 

He lowers himself onto the layback chair next to me, hugging my torso like he did all night, burying his face in my side. He was being more physical; more physically affectionate. Not in a sexual way, though.

Not in a way that he expected something in return. More like he needed me there to ground him. He was clinging to me like he needed something and I was the only one who could provide it to him.

"Y'alright, H?"

He doesn't answer right away. It almost feels like he buries his head deeper into my side at first, as if he's trying to hide from the world, or shield himself from something. Eventually, he moves his head to lay on my stomach he's holding.

"Yeah, I will be."

My hand finds it's way into his hair, combing through his damp strands. The feeling like satin in my fingers, "You can tell me. You can always tell me when something's wrong."

I let the offer hang in the air above us. Offering him a safe place to just be like he's done for me so many times before. He repositions his head on my torso again, resting it back in the same spot, but lighter than before.

"I just woke up feeling heavy this morning," his voice is quiet. A different quiet than how I'm used to hearing it. It's reserved; cautious, instead of the calming, welcoming voice I'm so used to hearing from him.

"Because of Oliver?" My tone matches his cautiousness. Tiptoeing around the subject, not wanting to make him upset. His hold tightens on me out of reflex and that tells me everything I need to know. He's shielding himself from his feelings, trying to shield himself from feeling his grief that's coming back slightly. 

My hand starts rubbing his head before moving to his shoulder and rubbing there instead. He doesn't have to nod, he doesn't have to verbally confirm. He doesn't have to explain. I know how he's feeling.

"I never got to go to the burial... because of the crowd that had grown outside," his unexpected sentence slices through me like a freshly sharpened knife. But that didn't hurt the most, what hurt the most was the sound of his voice cracking as he spoke it. 

I squeeze his shoulder in reassurance. "I was at the wake, I got to say goodbye to him, but I didn't get to see him off at the burial." 

I set my coffee down on the side table next to me and clasped my hands and arms around him, feeling like he needed the feeling of being protected in this moment as much as I did sometimes. This was new for me, this was new for him. He has never been this vulnerable with me before, but he clearly was bottling some emotions up inside over the loss of one of his best friends and he needed closure, probably as much as I did.

"He's buried here... in Phoenix. We can visit him, if you want," I offer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He tilts his head to look up at me, sniffling back some tears, "Are you sure?"

I lean my head against his, nodding, "He was your best friend, Harry. You deserve to be able to say goodbye to him, and visit him when you want to. We'll go today."

–

We laid out on the balcony for a while until the sun got too bright and too hot in the dark-colored oversized sweatshirt I was wearing. I eventually willed us to get off the chair so I could get ready, but Harry stayed outside for a while. I got ready for the day quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting long, and not wanting him to have to sit alone for longer than he had to.

I slipped on a white flowy tank top and some denim shorts. I didn't do anything with my hair, keeping the messy wavy look it had from being wet from the rain the night before. Harry had moved to laying on the bed again when I had finished. He saw me emerge and sat up a little straighter before getting up and deciding he should probably put on a shirt. 

The car ride was longer than I had expected it to take, some morning traffic being a little heavier than we had predicted for the time of the day that we finally got out of the house. I gave him directions from muscle memory once we got to the other side of the city where the cemetery was. We had stopped at a farmer's market on our way and got some flowers to put on the grave. 

The cemetery was quite large, and of course the only available option when I had to come pick the spot for Oliver was near the very back of the plot. Before we stepped inside the boundary of the cemetery, Harry grabbed my hand abruptly and I gave his squeezes periodically on our walk to the back of the property. 

His gravestone looked exactly as it did the first day I saw it. Not a single sign of weathering or wear and tear yet. His gravestone read:

'Oliver Brady Florence 1992-2017 "The world needs more kindness.'

I study Harry closely as he takes a step toward the headstone, crouching down so he's level with it, running his finger tips over the words I chose months ago for the occasion. He looks back at me over his shoulder, "The world needs more kindness?"

I immediately recognize that he remembers the line from our car ride to the studio from the carpool karaoke recording. I purse my lips together into a line and nod my head, "It was sort of his mantra the last couple years."

He turns his attention back to the headstone and I move a little behind him, taking a seat on the lush grass. He places his hand on the gravestone and leans into, propping himself up as if it's hard for him to exist right now. He eventually stands just to sit down in the grass next to me, placing the flowers we picked up on our way beside him in the grass. 

He sits, bending his knees, wrapping his arms around them slightly so his hands clasp in front of him, hanging his head and looking toward the ground. My hand instinctively meets his back and I rub comforting circles around as I watch him process what's before him. The last time I had been here was the day before I moved to LA. I got drive thru food for dinner on my way home from my old job, and brought it here to have dinner with Oliver one last time before moving to a completely different city. 

*play Bigger Than The Whole Sky - Taylor Swift*

I can't imagine how he's feeling now, having only seen the casket the day of the funeral. Only to see his burial spot six months after the fact, because he feared that his presence at the burial site would cause a crowd much like the one that was outside of the funeral home. 

The world didn't deserve someone like Harry. Someone who's always thinking about others and their well being. Constantly checking in on them, making sure they're alright. Sometimes even before he helps himself. 

I rested my head on Harry's shoulder in my best attempt at bringing him comfort and trying to show him that I was here. I may not always have the right things to say, or the best ways of comforting and consoling, but at the very least, I was here. Minutes go by where we just sit in silence. I stole glances of him periodically, trying to secretly check in on him. Most of the time his head was still hung between his knees, head facing the ground and his eyes closed. Not a single emotion was worn across his face. Just a blank expression of being lost in his own thoughts. 

I eventually placed my free hand on his arm, my other continuing to rub his back. My hand met the skin of his exposed upper arm, magnifying the feeling of my touch. His head raised slightly and he looked at me, his head still stooped low. He sniffles, before raising his head to look at the headstone in front of us again.

"How did you get the news?" His voice is low, quiet and broken, a tone that I've never heard from him.

I lean my head against his shoulder, suddenly not able to hold it up on my own, "Uhm, rangers... came to my house. It was the night after the accident. They only had dental records to go off of for identification so it took longer..."

I choke back some sobs I didn't realize were threatening to make themselves known. Harry senses it and moves his arm over my head to my back, pulling me closer to his side. I look up at him at this moment. His jaw is strikingly tense, sharpening his jawline to the point he looks like he could slice through something with ease.

"How did you?" I keep my voice low, matching his tone from his question.

"Jeff. He'd actually been in the area and heard the next morning on the news about a crash in the canyon so he did some digging. He flew back to Los Angeles straight away to tell Mitch and I. He knew Oliver was flying out here, but he didn't know what he was flying out here for by himself." 

The air between us is thick. A mixture between the dry heat of the day and the sad tension that had been created between us. I lean more of my weight into him at his last sentence, knowing full well why Oliver was coming out here, "Me."

I move my head slightly so I could see Harry's face, "He was coming to surprise me for my birthday. I-I had been complaining to him for months that he hadn't been home in forever and I knew the album had been done so I didn't understand why he couldn't come home for a couple days. I told him all I wanted to do was go to his spot in the canyon and spend time with him for my birthday."

The gentle grip his hand has on my arm tightens, pulling me closer than I thought possible into his side. "Did they... Did they ever figure out why?"

I nodded, "Low visibility. It was unusually foggy that night because it had just rained for more than thirty minutes and there was no wind to blow the clouds out of the area. The pilot wasn't paying attention to his altitude, trying to concentrate more on being able to see through the clouds. They flew into a cliff."

I can feel him wince, and I immediately want to take it back, never meaning to hurt him.

I lost track of how long we sat like that, our arms physically touching each other, but both knowing it wasn't coming close to what we both needed. While also not having a single clue of what we did need. By the time Harry suggested we go back to the car, we both had beads of sweat showing on our skin from the Arizona heat. Harry grabbed the bouquets of flowers and hands me one, his pained eyes lingering into mine a little longer than he probably meant them to.

We both knelt and placed the flowers on either side of the ledge of the headstone. I stood, but Harry stayed kneeling on one knee in front of the grave for a beat. My hand found his shoulder, understanding how hard this must be for him. I was a train wreck during my first visit. He was keeping it together better than I ever could. 

He stands eventually, wrapping his arm around my back causing me to do the same. He pulls me to him, planting a kiss on my temple before grabbing my hand, walking us back to the car quietly. He walked us slowly through the paths of the cemetery to the front, dragging his feet as if he was unsure whether he was ready to leave or not. 

I slow to a stop when we've reached the middle of the cemetery, causing Harry to turn and look at me, still holding our hands together. He gives me a sorrowful questioning look.

I grab his free hand with mine, entangling the fingers of both our hands together before looking up at him. The sight of the sadness and grief in his eyes were enough to break my heart into a million pieces. I know both of us were expecting this trip to be hard, but I think we were expecting me to be the one with the reaction, not him.

"You know he loved you, right? He thought so highly of you and the time he spent with you."

Something lightened in his eyes for a brief moment, and it was enough for me to continue just for the chance of seeing it happen again, "He had the best stories about the three of you when he came to visit. It was my favorite parts of his trips home; the stories of how you, him and Mitch working together, getting into trouble, and all of the adventures you went on together. He loved his job, and he loved his friendship with you. You and Mitch were one of his most valued relationships judging by how he spoke of you."

Harry smiled a beat and looked at the ground before looking back up and rubbing circles on my hands, "He spoke so highly of you too. He never shut up about you after he got back from Arizona. He raved about your accomplishments, your photography. He'd show us the pictures you took and posted on Instagram. He was so, so proud of you, Tils."

Tears start brimming my eyes without my knowledge, a couple spilling out over my cheeks. I don't move to wipe them, and neither does he; tears start to brim his own eyes. I smile up at him through my blurred vision and I can see his demeanor soften. We've just spoken exactly what each other needed to hear, confirming our fears that he passed without knowing how much we cared for him making sure we felt less alone in our feelings.

His hand meets my cheek, and my hand finds his wrist, pulling his touch closer to my skin, "He loved both of us. He would have done anything for us. He'd walk to the edges of the Earth for you, H."

He smiles, looking between both of my eyes. I can tell he's having a mental argument with himself on what to say to me next, "I'd do anything for you too, Tilly. I'd walk to the ends of the Earth to give you what you needed."

He smiled at me, his face shining perfectly in the midday sun. I plant a kiss on his lips, molding our mouths together so perfectly. His hand finds the back of my head, pulling our mouths closer before letting go. He places his forehead against mine, pressing them lightly together.

"Will you show me where the two of you grew up?"

I move my head away from him, thinking I had to have misheard him. He sees my worried expression and quickly tries to cover, "If it's too personal, it's okay. I don't have to, I just–I wanted to see where the two of you shared most of your memories. I want to see that side of you. I want to know everything I can about you. I want to see where you were raised, the street you lived on, where you rode your bike, and played with your school friends. I want to know you."

I purse my lips together, trying to find an excuse. 

It got burned down in a fire. It was demolished years ago for shops to be built. Anything.

All I do is nod back at him with a close-lipped smile. 

We got lunch down the street first. The place had no significance, other than it had quick service and it was close, between the cemetery and my childhood home. We ate at a booth in the back of the restaurant, sitting on the same side, me closest to the inside wall. We ate in silence, my head leaning on Harry's shoulder the majority of the time, dreading the moment I would see my old house again for the first time in months. Harry was on edge the whole time in the restaurant. his glasses over his eyes, constantly looking around at the other customers as we ate, but he never once asked me to stop touching him in public. 

Back in the car, I ran my hands up and down my thighs, trying to wipe the sweat from them. Harry took one of my hands to bring me out of my own head. 

"We don't have to do this," he gives me an out.

I shake my head, "It's okay. I have to do it eventually, right?"

He takes his eyes off of me for a split second before returning back to the road, "You haven't been back?"

I shake my head once more, "I haven't had a reason to."

I see his jaw tighten out of my peripheral vision. He's fighting himself on what to say again, but he doesn't talk. He just squeezes my hand in return, continuing his inner battle. A few minutes after leaving the restaurant we arrive in front of my old beat up house. The run down neighborhood in the middle of the bad part of town looking exactly how I remembered. He throws the car in park, keeping the engine running, not turning it off until I start to get out of the car and he realizes we're staying.

I walk across the street, stepping onto the grass. I look down the street, the one I would walk home on countless times late at night from my job. The grass is so overgrown, almost up to my knees with weeds. The siding of the house was falling off in some spots, the paint chipping in others.

The paint on the front door was chipping, the dark blue color showing the bold yellow it used to be once upon a time. The paint broken, representing the broken home and family it used to represent. I painted it yellow shortly after my dad left us, with my brother's help. No longer wanting to see the yellow that represented a time when we used to be happy, when we used to be a family that loved and supported each other.

I step up to the stairs, my hand reaching out to trace the chipping paint with my fingertips. I hear Harry's footsteps step onto the concrete stairs behind me, but he doesn't say anything. He watches as I take it all in.

There were curtains in the windows, blocking any sort of view inside the house. The concrete of the walkway and the driveway cracking and crumbling from lack of upkeep. The metal fence to the backyard was still there and standing, protecting the yard like a false sense of security. The yard that was filled with times of playing with Oliver, playing with my mom and later playing with Willow when all I needed was an escape from the harsh reality of what my life had turned into as I got older. 

"Tilly... We're trespassing," Harry's voice breaks me from the flood of memories.

I turn and see Harry's worried expression. I had hopped the fence of the backyard without realizing, Harry's worried the owners of the house were going to catch us. "My mom still owns it, no one lives here anymore."

He relaxes a little bit, but not completely. I move to the small, skinny metal swing set positioned in the back corner of the yard. I take a seat on a swing, kicking off the ground a bit to get a small motion going. Harry moves from the middle of the yard to sit on the swing next to me.

"Where did she move to?"

I pause, a split second not knowing what to say, not ready to reveal that part of myself to him yet, "She... moved across town... Wanted to fix this up for me or Oliver, but never got around to it after he died."

He stays quiet, unsure of what to say. He keeps his eyes trained on his feet that were moving around in the dirt, keeping his swing swaying back and forth.

I look around at the swing set before saying, "Oliver broke one of his arms on this swing set."

A smile slightly appears, "Yeah?"

I nodded, "We were having a contest to see how high we could get and jump off without chickening out. I was too afraid of getting hurt, but he had to do it one more time after I gave up just to prove a point. He was stubborn like that. His swing slipped out from under him and he hit the ground, landing on his arm. Broke it in three places and almost needed surgery."

He laughs to himself, shaking his head and looking down at the ground, "Classic Ollie. Always too stubborn for his own good."

My mind wanders to the memories, this house holds for me. The bad out-weighing the good. The nights my father would come home in a blind, drunken fit of rage over something small. Some douche at the bar after work trying to start something with him, or someone cutting him off on his drive home. The fights he picked with my mother when she didn't do anything wrong, emotional and physical. Making her feel like she could never do anything right. 

The hateful words he would breathe at me like fire coming from a dragon about anything he could get his hands on to hurt me. My photography, grades, sports, appearance. Always turning it around to praise Oliver whether or not he was living at the house at the time.

The first night I saw my mom passed out on the kitchen floor from too much to drink, in the middle of cutting up an apple, the sharp knife she was using lying on the floor centimeters away from her. My first hint that she had a problem. The time I found her in the bathroom, a used needle lying on the floor beside the tub. Paramedics having to bring her back, then her adrenaline kicking in causing her to fight them with everything she had to only be sedated so they could get her stable for the ride to the hospital. 

That was the last night I had seen her. She stayed in the hospital from complications for a few weeks and I packed up my things, not being able to escape Phoenix fast enough.

"Does it still hurt? Missing him, I mean?" He asks me.

"A part of it is always going to hurt. A part of me will always miss him, always long to have a conversation with him again. To be in the Grand Canyon around a fire with him again," I fall silent, feeling the longing rise in my chest, allowing myself to feel it before continuing, "But, as much as it hurts, I hope that feeling never leaves me."

His head ticks over to me at my words in confusion, "Why would you want to feel that forever?"

"Because I was lucky enough to love someone so much that I will endure missing them for the rest of my life. If that's a small price to pay in order to be able to relive the love and happy memories I hold with my brother, I will gladly remember the pain and heartbreak that comes with it." I give him a small smile.

His eyes soften from confusion as he looks at me, "Your mind truly never ceases to amaze me."

We sat on the swings for a while, the sun beating down on us until we couldn't stand the heat anymore. He helped me over the fence, despite me jumping it subconsciously by myself an hour before. There were more places Harry had wanted to go to today, but he sensed the heaviness exuding from me and drove us back to the house. The car ride was silent, not even the radio was on, and neither of us felt the need to fill the air with sound. 

I felt like I could collapse the moment we walked into the door of the house. I stumbled myself into the kitchen, leaning on the wall for support. Harry met up with me after locking the door, his arms around my torso adding the physical support that I needed. 

He pressed his face into my hair on the side of my neck, "Let me run you a bath, love. Soak off the weight from today."

I hummed at the thought and he immediately took that as a yes. He moved upstairs to the master bathroom, shortly after the sound of the running water ringing out through the house. He comes down shortly after to retrieve me, finding me in the same place he left me. I follow him upstairs. He walks me to the bathroom door before stopping in his tracks.

"Call for me if you need anything and I'll get it for you, I'll just be in here in the bedroom," He presses a kiss to my cheek before turning me around to walk into the bathroom and shutting the door. He laid out towels on the edge of the tub for me when I'm done. On the sink, there's a pair of clean underwear and one of his t-shirts folded in a pile for me to change into after. His consideration stole my breath away everyday. 

I felt lighter after sitting in the tub for a while. I stayed until the water started to cool to the point where I needed to get out and warm up. Harry was laying on the bed on top of the blankets when I surfaced from the bathroom. He put his phone down immediately upon seeing me in the doorway.

I move over to the bed and he sits up a little straighter asking, "Are you hungry?"

I gave a head shake as my answer, quietly crawling into the space between the side of his body and his arm, placing my head on his shoulder. "What do you want to do?"

I tighten the grip I have on him, tangling my legs with his, "I don't want to do anything. I just want to exist here, with you."

His arms tighten around me, pulling me to him tighter than I thought was possible, almost as if he believed if he let go I would disappear. We held each other the rest of the day, and all night, just existing. Wrapped up in each other's embrace without a care in the world of what was happening outside the walls of the house. All that mattered was the presence of each other, two people who felt heavy for the same reason, finding comfort in finally feeling understood and seen.

    Harry also told me that while they do like each other, neither one of them had admitted it to the other. Over the last month since I had last seen everyone, they had grown into this cycle of spending so much time together but the relationship didn't progress anywhere. My mind had flashed briefly to the conversation I had with Sarah in the studio with the rest of the band.

    'New flames are fragile, you don't want to blow them out from the pressure of trying to make it bigger before it's ready.'

    It had stuck with me all week, how it sounded like she was speaking from experience, but I couldn't pinpoint how. It also wasn't my place to pinpoint how or why she was speaking that piece of advice from experience, but now I understand. Her relationship with Mitch being so new, one or both of them have probably agreed to take it slow, or put a pause on it; to make sure there wasn't any unnecessary pressure.

    My mind then wandered to Harry. While, yes, he made a big step early on, he wasn't putting any added pressure onto me to explore my feelings, or to figure out where I stand before we move forward. Things hadn't been awkward between us since our conversation early that morning in the studio. Harry made sure of it, and I was thankful, otherwise I would have made it awkward and got in my head about it. The whole week leading up to our planned trip, we kept things the same. The only thing that had changed was the amount of time he spent together which didn't feel all that different, considering we had already been spending quite a bit of time together before.

    We spent the night together every night of the week after the studio, either at his place or mine. If he had meetings or I had work that needed done, we would go our separate ways during the day but come back together in the evening. We went on one other date during that week, but it was more of a celebration. I had admitted to Harry that I was going to accept a small photography job from Bryan to get my feet wet again. It would start the following week after we got back from Arizona.

    Harry's excitement was beyond anything I had ever seen. He was speechless at first–just picked me up and spun me around, relentlessly kissing me in celebration. The following night it was my turn to go to his house. He had surprised me with dinner–that he made himself–on the beach at sunset. We spent hours out on the sand, even after the sun had set, wrapped in each other's arms. The only thing said after dinner between us were Harry's comments about how proud he was of me that I was getting back into the field besides the work I was doing for him.

    One of the last nights before we left, we hung out with Lily again in our living room after she got off of a shift from the bar. We made a few drinks and played some games together. After we were about to go to bed, Harry lingered in the living room a little to talk to Lily while I got myself ready for bed. When he finally came in and lied down with me, he told me he wanted to add another day to our trip to Arizona, which would mean we would leave for the canyon on Thursday instead of Friday.

    "But I work tomorrow night?"

    To which he responded that he had somehow convinced Lily to take my shift for me so we could get there a day early. I don't know how he did it, I don't know what he said to Lily to make her agree to it after having to cover so many of my shifts to begin with, but I was thankful for it. Three uninterrupted days with Harry. No work obligations, no cramming in last minute editing so I could spend as much time with him as possible during the night. Just him, me, and Oliver's favorite places.

    Oliver's birthday had been something I had dreaded for months. I had a mental countdown in my head after the funeral, always aware of the date in relation to his birthday on the calendar and how many days until it would inevitably come. Now, riding with him in the back of the car to the airport, I had a strong sense of calm. I was determined for this trip to go well. I knew it wasn't a vacation. This was technically a work trip–to work on ourselves–but I get to do it with someone that I was growing to care for at an alarmingly quick rate.

    We slept at my apartment the night before our flight, with it being closer to the airport. Harry was up all night worried about me having a negative reaction to the trip during the night despite knowing how I felt about when he did that. He slept the entire flight to Phoenix while I did some editing. We rented a car for the weekend this time–Harry didn't want to rely on a car service again. I think he was mostly concerned I would leave him in the desert for the second time. He also explained to me how much he loved going on road trips. He said the four hour drive to the canyon would be perfect for him to get the itch out of his system.

    Harry surprised me and canceled our hotel downtown and booked the writing house instead. He told me it wouldn't be a weekend of Oliver's favorite things if we stayed in a hotel, considering how much he loved the house. Harry refused to let me drive from the airport to the house, despite his aggressive yawning he did the entire way here. I partially expected myself to have some sort of reaction from the drive through the city, especially since I grew up so close to the airport, everything on the drive was familiar. Surprisingly, with Harry's fingers intertwined with mine, or his hand gripping the inside of my thigh and his thumb tracing circles, I felt totally at peace.

    I was fully prepared to have to entertain myself while he took another nap, but as soon as we got to the house, he told me it was time to get ready to go back out again. I asked him where we were going but he refused to answer me. The only thing he would tell me was that we were spending the weekend 'visiting all of Oliver's favorite places.'

    The weather was hotter in Arizona, causing me to change out of my airport clothes into a simple sundress. Something that would allow me to breathe in the rugged, dry heat of the desert around us. I clipped up my hair to get it off my back before meeting Harry downstairs when I was done. The only layer he had shed was his sweatshirt he wore on the plane. He was seated at the dining room table, sunglasses pushing back his hair, scrolling on his phone.

    He peered up from his hands at the sound of my sandals hitting the tile floor. He continued to give me a blank stare for a long moment before finally standing from the table and closing the space between us. His expression was serious, almost as if he had seen something on his phone he didn't like, but I liked how it softened slightly when he looked at me. Like the way he looked at me was different from how he looked at everyone else. 

    "You look beautiful, Tilly." I smiled and looked down at our hands that he was now interlocking together in muscle memory.

    "Thank you."

    He led me out to the car and started us toward our first destination, still refusing to tell me where we were going, "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

    I gave him a confident nod, the first one I think I've ever given him since we met, "I'm weirdly excited to see this city again. It's brought me bad memories for the longest time, but I think seeing it this way, through Oliver's eyes, will give me a better perspective."

He eventually parked the car somewhere near downtown Phoenix and walked us across the street to a small mom and pop ice cream shop. We stop on the sidewalk outside of the front door, looking up at the sign. Our mom used to bring us here when we were kids.

I can see Harry look over at me out of my peripheral vision and he gives my hand a couple gentle squeezes. I look at him and he gives me a reassuring smile and a look that I knew was asking if I was okay. I smiled back and gave him a nod. We ate our ice cream outside at a small table on the sidewalk in front of the windows of the shop.

Our silence felt tense at first. Like he wanted to know what the significance of this place was for Oliver and I but wasn't sure how to ask me. I didn't take into account that most, if not all, of Oliver's favorite places were more than likely going to mean reliving my childhood. I didn't feel like I was going to spiral out because of it, though, it was just a pill I was having a hard time swallowing.

"He would drag Mitch and I here every time we visited Arizona. Usually as a late night snack when the sun was already gone... He'd always get–"

"Cookie dough on a cone," I finished the order for Harry. His eyes glance quickly up at mine at my contribution to the conversation, almost as if he forgot for a second that I would know a lot of the places we visit this weekend.

I look down at my cup of ice cream, gathering some onto my spoon, "Our mom brought us here all the time when we were kids."

It only happened before my dad left us, but that's beside the point. In a way, I think Oliver was trying to heal a part of his childhood by bringing Harry and Mitch here on their writing trips. We rarely ever came here when he visited. Homelife being too much of a shitshow when he was in town, he never had the time before he had to rush back on a flight back to LA.

We sat outside of the ice cream shop for a while before we got up and started walking down the streets of Phoenix. Harry took us down some alleys to see some of the wall art that was scattered around the city.

"I didn't know you were such a fan of art," I nudged him with my shoulder as we came up to a piece painted on a white brick wall, "First the LA museum and now these?"

He shrugged with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, "I guess I'm just learning to appreciate things a little differently lately."

We both paused a beat, taking in the mural in front of us painted on the side of a building. "The lights last week were all my idea. They really do remind me of you. These murals Ollie showed me during the times we spent in Phoenix. Something always seemed to trouble him when we were here. He never talked about it. One night, though, I had caught him up late in the kitchen, something was very clearly weighing on him. He didn't want to talk about it but told me he was going to go for a drive and invited me to come along. I didn't want to leave him alone in case something happened to him so I tagged along. He brought us here."

The mural was of a boy dumping a watercan, the contents being dozens of black birds all big and small running out. The boy was standing on a box that was built into the side of the building with a quote from Mother Teresa. 

'At the end of life, we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done. We will be judged by 'I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was naked and you clothed me. I was homeless and you took me on.''

"We sat in front of this mural for hours that night in silence. I never got to ask him why this one meant so much to him, but out of all the ones he took me to see over the last couple years, this was the only one that stirred that kind of reaction from him," Harry doesn't look at me. His eyes run over the mural replaying the distant memory of him and Oliver. Reading the description, I knew exactly why Oliver was drawn to this.

–

    "You ever wish you could go back in time and give yourself a warning when you were younger?"

    I look over at him, the firelight dancing shadows around his face as it flickers in the dark of the night around us, "A warning?"

    He takes a drink of his beer, "I wasted so much of highschool worrying about if I would end up like either of them. Never went out with friends, never kept a girlfriend. Hell, I gave up extracurriculars my senior year because of Mom. I wish I could go back and tell myself to relax. That everything would work out."

    "I've never thought about that..." My voice trails and I become quiet in thought. Oliver looks over at me, a look of despair in his eyes as he passes me his bottle. I take a swig, immediately wincing at the taste. He laughs as he reaches for it back.

    "Never had beer before?"

    I shake my head, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, "Can't say I have."

    Oliver settles back in his seat and tilts his head to look up at the stars, "Do you think there's somewhere we go when we leave here?"

    "Leave here? I think you've had enough to drink."

    "Probably," he agrees, bringing the beer bottle up to his mouth, downing the rest of its contents.

    I look up at the sky along with him, positioning my head on the back of my chair. His previous question lingers in the air between us, almost like it's caught on something. I don't know how to answer. He's been deep in thought a lot lately whenever we're together. Maybe it was the recent events at home that had caused this visit, or maybe it was something with work stressing him out, but he never used to have this deep of thoughts, at least not with me.

    "I think we're able to watch over this place when we're gone," I say, "At least that's what I like to believe to make myself feel better about the subject of dying. That even when someone is gone, they're never truly gone."

     He's quiet. I wait a minute before continuing, but he doesn't respond .

    "Is he going to come back?" My voice is shaky, giving away my thoughts.

    Oliver shrugs, "Probably. You know him. He's worthless, and doesn't have anything else better to do than to bother us."

    I inhale a shaky breath, it being louder than I had intended. Oliver glances over at me, his expression softens, "If he comes back, you do the same thing you did this time. You call me and I'll come."

    I roll my eyes slightly at him, knowing he can't see me since he's looking at my side profile, "You live two states away. Dad can do more damage in the two hour flight it would take for you to get here than if you were still living here."

"My offer for you to come live with me still stands. It always will," He offers, his voice getting quieter. 

I shake my head in response, "You know I can't. She needs me too much."

He sits back in his chair nodding his head at me, knowing that it was time to leave the subject alone. He's offered for me to come live with him countless times. Told me he could financially support me until I could find a job, and I could live in his spare room as long as I needed. Everytime we had the conversation it ended with me not being able to leave our mom, who is currently just a shell of the woman I remember her being as a little girl.

I couldn't leave her alone when our father, the love of her life was drunkenly terrorizing the house in the middle of the night because he refused to give up his house key in the divorce that he asked for.    

He throws his bottle in the trash bag near his feet before sitting back in the chair. He's quiet for a beat before he responds to what I said. "If I die, I'm not watching over this place. This place is a shit show; I've seen enough of it."

"And what about me? Leave me here alone wondering where you are?"

A soft chuckle escaped from his chest, his shoulders move up and down with it, "Tils, what kind of a big brother would I be if I did that? I'd obviously send someone to watch over you for me."

–

    I feel wandering eyes on me and soft nudges on my hip. I look to my right and see Harry towering over me, a look of concern on his face as he studies me. His look tells me he's wondering what's going through my head.

    "Where'd you go, Tilly?"

    I shake the daydream out of my head, blinking it back a few times. I give him a smile and interlock my fingers with his, "Nowhere, I'm right here."

    I turn back to the mural, gathering my thoughts from the memory. Harry doesn't press further. We walk the streets a while as the sun started setting behind some impending rain clouds, with no destination in mind. We eventually found our way back to the car, my feet hurting and Harry's dark circles growing more prominent as he runs on close to three hours of sleep. He drives us across town and pulls into a parking lot.

    When I look up from my phone, answering a text from Lily asking me how things were going, I recognize the large brick building and the stadium immediately. I exit the car looking around at the building as memories come flooding back. Harry comes around to my side of the car, sliding his arm around my waist as he looks around to get a better view of what I'm seeing. 

    "Harry?"

    "Yes, love." He pulls me to him as if sensing a little bit of my tension. He buries his face in my hair as my arms slowly find their way around his neck. I can't help but get the sense that he feels like he's walking on eggshells around me right now given the circumstances of why we're here. This trip was entirely his idea, but it's obvious he fears it's going to end like the last trip we made. 

    "Why are we at my highschool?"

    "Believe it or not, coming here with Oliver was a tradition on writing trips out here." 

    I pulled back enough to look at Harry in the eyes, almost expecting him not to be serious, "He'd drag us out here if we were stir crazy, bored, or uninspired. C'mon."

    He pulls my hand and leads us to the closed metal gate of the stadium, the lights shining on the field becoming more and more blinding the closer we get to the field. Harry grabs a key hidden off to the side and unlocks the gate before looking over at me.

    "Oliver knew the head of the sports department. All he had to do was give him a heads up on a night there were no games, and he'd leave the key out for us. Turns out he still works here, just had to mention Ollie's name," He gives me a wide smile as he pulls me through the gate. 

    I follow him to the middle of the field. On our way in he grabbed a soccer ball from a cart that was left out on the track. He kicked it over to the closest goal. "He'd bring you out here to play soccer?"

    He nodded, "Mitch wasn't a big fan of it, but Ollie and I would do one v. one matches all the time. It was a great way that we could get out any pent up frustration we had."

    Harry lets go of my hand as we got closer to the goal and walks over to the ball, doing a move with his foot on the ball and suddenly, it's in the air, bouncing around on his foot and ankles. I watched in admiration as we switched legs, practicing tricks he had probably learned as a little boy. Oliver knew how to do those moves and it had been forever since I had seen him do them. Even before the accident, he was always busy. Either working when I visited him, or putting out fires when he visited me.

    I kick off my sandals, setting my bag and phone down on the turf next to the goal post before moving into the center of the net, facing Harry. He eyes me up and down, a smirk playing on his lips. 

    I look at him, "Shoot."

    He shakes his head slightly, his foot never faltering with his kicks on the ball, keeping it in the air effortlessly, "You don't know what you're asking for, sunshine."

    I take my stance, squatting a bit to get prepared, smirking right back at him, making straight eye contact, "Try me."

    He raises an eyebrow at me, letting the ball fall to the ground before putting his foot on top of it to keep it from bouncing away. He maneuvers it to where he wants it, looking between me, the ball, and the post, lining his shot. He takes a couple steps back, before getting a slight running start and taking a kick. The ball goes flying, heading towards the upper right corner of the goal. I time the shot right, side stepping and jumping into the air at the perfect time to catch it, stopping the ball in its path.

    I look up at him, a triumphant smile on my face. He nods and holds up his hands, applauding quietly, "Very impressive, sunshine."

    He motions for the ball back. I toss it to him before making my way back to the center goal. He lines up his shot again and I watch his eyes, bouncing between me, the ball and the far left side of the goal this time. He pauses, takes a deep breath, then moves to make the shot, but I stop it with ease. I roll it back to him.

    "That's two for two, baby. Someone's a little rusty," I turn around and look back at him with a wink, his eyes hardening and then softening at my tease. 

    "I'm just getting warmed up, love," he says through a smirk.

    He repeats his practiced routine of concentrating before taking the goal. This time the ball goes to the right again but down low, causing me to have to dive. I feel the ball hit my hands as I tighten my grip around it before hitting the turf with a grunt from the force.

    Harry jobs over to me. He crouches down before helping me up off the ground. "You alright?"

    I let out a laugh at his question which causes him to raise his eyebrow with a playful look. "It's going to take a lot more than that to stop me, love," I smile before raising on the tip of my toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

    His smile deepens, showcasing his dimples in full force, "Yeah? Alright, your turn to score, then."

    He tosses me the ball, and he winks at me before I turn to find my spot on the field. Harry centers himself in the middle of the goal, taking a similar stance as I did before. Just as I'm planning my trajectory, the sky opens up, letting down a torrential downpour onto us.

    I look up at the sky, throwing my arms up before looking back at Harry, "Now this isn't fair. It's raining and I'm barefoot."

    He laughs, "Excuses, excuses."

    Normally, I would have quit. Two months ago, I would have waved a white flag at these circumstances and gave up while I was ahead in blocking his shots. Now, seeing his playful smirk as he prepares to block my shot, it stirs a competitiveness inside me that I can't ignore. I center the ball, lining it up to where I want it to go before stepping back, taking a deep breath and pushing the wet strands of my hair that had fallen out of my clip off my face. 

    I recenter myself. Aim. Shoot. Harry darts to the left most side of the goal, but the ball zips past his head into the goal. My arms shoot to the sky in triumph and Harry sprints to me, wrapping his arms around my legs and lifting me up into his arms before spinning me around. He spins us around quickly, but his foot slips on the slippery wet turf shooting out from under him. We tumble to the ground, his grip on me tightening before we hit the turf.

    I collapse to his chest in a fit of laughter. He moves the hair out of my face, a look of pure concern washing over him as he searches my face for any hint that I was hurt. He settles slowly when he sees my reaction. He plants a kiss on my lips, molding our lips together momentarily before he moves to stand, taking me with him.

    With his hands placed on my hips he sets me on the ground, centering me. I snake my hands around his neck and look up at him. Curly strands of hair leak out over his forehead that were once styled back. Water dripping from the small ringlets, down his face.

    "You never told me you were good at football," his voice is a normal tone, but barely audible from the sound of the rain around us. 

    "Three years of varsity in high school," I smile up at him, "There's a lot about me you still don't know yet."

    He hums a laugh out and bushes our noses against each other ever so slightly, "I can't wait to uncover all your secrets."

    He plants a slow kiss on my forehead before leading me over to my stuff by the goal post. We exit the gate of the field, Harry locks the gate and hides the key away in the spot he found it. He takes my hand in his after he turns around, leading me to the parking lot but I stop when I run out of sidewalk. He turns, seeing me about to put my sandals back on before continuing. He drops my hand, steps closer to me and scoops me up bridal style, jogging across the parking lot to the car with me in a fit of giddy laughter.

    The drive back to the house was a peaceful silence. The sound of the rain hitting the windshield filling the space between us. Harry's thumb traced his thumb around the shape of my knuckles on my hand, periodically planting kisses to the back of my hand. I looked up at him a moment as he drove back across town from my old high school.

    "How are you still awake right now?"

    He shrugs, his left hand tightening over the steering wheel, "Adrenaline from being around you, I guess."

    I smile and shake my head at him, wrapping my right arm around his and laying my head on his shoulder that was hovering over the center console, "Smooth."

    When we got home, we stepped through the front door and I exhaled a breath of relief, happy to be back for the night after a long day. Ready to peel my wet clothes off of my body. Harry led me upstairs to the master bedroom, the one I stayed in the last time we were here. 

    "I can't wait to get into dry clothes," I say, rushing over to my suitcase as soon as my feet hit the carpeted floor.

    "Me too," he chimed from the other side of the room.

    I pulled out clothes, throwing them on a nearby chair and unzipped my dress, stepping out of it. I freeze as soon as the fabric hits the floor. When I realize I'm just in my underwear in front of him. I was so absent-minded, replaying the events from today in my head, replaying my feelings and how good I felt being on this trip that I wasn't paying attention. I tense and freeze, mentally kicking myself.

    "Tilly, hey. It's okay," he steps closer to me, places his hand on my shoulder over my bra strap, "If you're comfortable, you're comfortable."

    I hear him take a few steps back to his suitcase, before going into the bathroom and turning on the shower. I slip a shirt over my head, throwing my damp hair onto the top of my head and sink into the soft bed. Harry resurfaces from the bathroom a few minutes later, moving to the bed. He looks exhausted, more tired than I have ever seen him, and I'm sure he's ready to succumb to sleep at any moment.

    I spread my arms, outstretched, welcoming him to the bed. He gets on the bed and wraps his arm around my torso, laying his head on my chest. My arms wrap around his shoulders, one of my hands finding his wet hair and I twirl his curls in between my fingers, feeling their softness. 

    "Tilly?" Harry's voice is laced with exhaustion as he speaks into my shirt. I hum out a response, closing my eyes at the sound of his raspy voice.

    "Are you comfortable around me?"

    I nod my head, "I am. I've never been this comfortable around anyone."

    He doesn't say anything, but the feeling of his arms tightening their grip around my abdomen was enough of a response. I placed a kiss on the top of his head as I felt his breathing steady, signaling sleep had taken over him. I looked down at him, the only light shining through the room was the light of a lamp out in the yard shining a dim yellow glow into the room–more specifically–on his angelic features.

    The way his unmade hair fell around his face, his curls framing his it so elegantly. The way his back rose and fell with every breath he took, his muscles tensing with every inhale and relaxing with every exhale. The way his eyelashes graze his cheek bones during his peaceful slumber. I think back to the night we were in the helicopter. How he laid on the ground with me without a question as I tried to ground myself from the remnants of my panic attack during the ride. Having looked over and seeing him on his back, eyes closed, and his eyelashes kissing the skin of his cheekbones just like they are now.

    He once again was the definition and picture of peace with his arms around my back and my stomach. Harry's head on my chest, rising and falling with every steady breath I took. Looking down at him sleeping on me, in a stark change from how I felt a month ago, I felt as though he was turning me into the definition of peace along with him, instead of chaos.

No one has managed to make me feel the way he does. Safe, protected, important. And he does it without a second thought, as if it's second nature. He does it out of pure thoughtfulness, and love–and I love him for it.

God, do I love him.

"I know, I know. I owe you so many rides when my car is out of the shop. I promise I'll repay you," I called to her, grabbing my bag and getting out of the car, "I love you, thank you for everything you do for me."

I shut the door and turn toward the studio. I walk in and move to the studio number Harry said was ours for the morning. Just as I reach for the door handle, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I pull it out to see a call from an unknown number. I silence the call; if it's not a spam call, they'd leave a message. 

Taking a deep breath to try and stop my racing heart, I push the door open and look around. This studio is different from the one we were in last time. Bohemian tapestries hung up on the wall and rugs that matched the theme scattered the wide open floor under the wide variety of instruments and equipment in the room. The lights were on a dimmer, causing them to be less harsh when stepping in from the outside sun. I silently thanked the studio for that feature because my head had never hurt so bad after a night of drinking. 

Harry's sitting on a couch that's pushed against a wall near the instruments, two coffees sitting on the table in front of him. He immediately stands when he hears me walk in. A look of concern floods his face for a second before turning soft at the sight of me in the room, a small smile forming across his lips. 

He looks like he's holding his breath, and releases it when he sees me, "Hi."

"Hi."

He motions for me to come sit on the couch with him, running a hand through his hair in the process, "How are you feeling after last night?"

"I've been better. I have a raging headache and I feel like I could sleep for twelve more hours, if I'm honest," I say.

He rubs his hands up and down his legs. This feels awkward. I don't like this feeling or this tension between us.

I place my bag on the floor and take a seat, waiting for the sudden pain in my head to subside from my fast movements. My mouth felt dry but I couldn't tell if that was from my hangover or the nerves coursing through my veins.

Harry leans forward, grabbing my coffee and handing it to me before taking his and positions himself so one of his legs were bent across the couch, his arm leaning against the back of it to face me better. He rested his head against his hand, tilting it slightly at me. I keep my body facing forward toward the equipment and look down at my cup in my hands.

His voice is the softest I've heard it, but it cuts through the air like a knife, "What about last night scared you?"

I breathe in a shaky breath, closing my eyes simultaneously trying to collect my nerves and my thoughts. Last night, the alcohol spoke for me before I could think about the repercussions that would come today. Right now, for example. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but I was bolder then. Sitting in front of him now, I felt like I needed to run, escape; to get away.

I shake my head, still looking down at my cup in my hands, "It's nothing, I'm over it now."

Harry cinches his eyebrows together, "I don't think you are, love. Or else you wouldn't have shown up this early like we had planned. What's the matter, Tilly?"

A tear falls from my eye and lands on my jeans before I can catch it with my hand, "It's not important anymore. I'm over it."

Harry reaches over and points my chin to his face, wiping the stream the tear had left on my cheek, "If it's bothering you, it's important to me."

Something softens in his expression as he looks in my eyes, something that makes me want to word-vomit everything I've been holding in since I met him. Everything he doesn't yet know about me. Everything he doesn't understand about me.

"I don't fit here," is all I can think to say. It's the first thing that comes to my mind.

"You don't fit?" He removes his hand from my chin and places it on my knee.

I look down once again, my confidence faltering the more that I'm under his intense gaze, "I-I don't f-fit in this picture. With this team, in this industry; in this world. W-with whatever this is. You're always telling me to let myself feel, but I'm scared that if I let myself feel this, I'm going to wind up getting hurt," I gesture between the two of us.

Realization flashes across his face. His next words come out as a statement, not like he's asking for clarification, "You're freaking out because of what I said."

I nod and peek up at him, "Why love?"

I shrug my shoulders, "I don't know. It's something new. And different. I wasn't expecting you to say something like that, and I'm not even sure I know how I feel."

"You said you would tell me what was wrong if it became a problem..." his voice trails off, "How did it become a problem so fast?"

I pause, willing the words to come to me, "Because, the night you learned about Oliver–in my room–I told myself I was done keeping things from you. I'm done keeping secrets from people who have proven to me that they only want to help me.

His expression relaxes. Harry grabs my coffee and places both of our cups onto the coffee table before reaching for both of my hands. He envelops them into his and I can feel the cool metal of his rings brush over my fingers as he does.

"Look, it's early. I know. But I felt an overwhelmingly strong nudge to tell you. Like it was something that you needed to hear. I don't know why, I don't know what it was, but I listened to it," his thumbs started painting pictures across my hands, "You don't have to feel anything. I don't expect you to feel the same way; that's why I told you not to say anything back. I've liked you since I met you, Tilly. Spending the amount of time we've spent together, it was a no-brainer that I would eventually feel this way about you. I just needed you to know. I didn't want you to rush into something by saying it back when you don't know if you're feeling anything yet."

His eyes bore into mine, causing a heat to rise up my neck and onto my face. I'm at a loss for what to say; his words not being able to scratch the surface of being able to reassure the anxieties I've been feeling. "We can continue the way that we have been. Hanging out, go on a date from time to time. You have time to explore this if you want to. I'll wait as long as you need me to, alright? If you need to back out at any time, or you don't feel the same way, tell me, and we'll be friends instead."

The look in his eyes is full of sincerity. Not a fleck of desperation or panic that I might waste his time and leave him high and dry. Tears fall down my face again, faster than I could detect and they join the lone stain on my jeans from earlier.

"Do you need a hug?"

I nod, biting my lip to fight back the sobs as he moves across the couch and pulls me into his chest. "It gets chaotic, and it's scary to be surrounded by things like last night. The crowd, the yelling. If it's not something you're okay with, I'll make adjustments. It's your life, Tilly. No one else's. You don't owe anyone shit."

I buried my face into the curve of his neck; inhaling the scent of him -- expensive cologne, mint from his gum and something inherently his. Something that's without judgment, something that's supportive, and kind. Something safe. 

I'm putty in his arms. For the first time in months; since August, I feel protected. I feel safe. He's done nothing to physically protect me, it's all been done with his words. Everything I've ever felt around him, building up in my throat begging me to let it out into the air.

I push myself off his chest, causing his arms to loosen their grip from around me. I prop myself up against his chest so I can look at him, "I do like you, Harry. That much I do know."

He tries to shake his head to stop me, "I told you not to say—"

I suddenly connect my lips to his, stopping him mid sentence from completing his thought. I keep it light; soft, and he follows my lead. Something about this kiss feels different. It's not rushed and it's not frenzied. It has more depth, like all of the words and feelings I've had are coming together for this kiss. 

His lips are warm and inviting, like they were made perfectly for mine to fit with them. I can feel everything he said to me the night before with every brush of his lips on mine; as if he's saying the words to me all over again. 

The last few months he's felt breathtaking. He's felt intoxicating. He's felt soul crushing; and that doesn't scare me anymore, because everything he needed to say earlier to calm my nerves about my place–about where I fit, has been said with this single kiss. It's in the way his heartbeat quickens everytime I speak. It's in the way his cheeks grow pink when I compliment him and it's all the small bits of affection he shows me every chance he gets, almost as if he can't help but adore me.

I tangle my fingers up in his hair, tugging slightly and he tightens his grip on my back, groaning against my lips. He pulls me deeper into his side, his hand moving to my arm, brushing strokes across my exposed skin before moving to the side of my face. I push myself up again trying to get a better position but I struggle. In one smooth motion, he grips his arm around me tighter and sets me on the couch so my back is leaning against the back of the couch. He's propping himself up now, an arm behind me, his other planted on the couch by my hip.

I'm the first to release from the kiss, worried we were going to move on to other things if one of us didn't stop it beforehand. 

I open my eyes and his face is still hovering over mine, his lashes tickling my face. 

"I said, I do like you, Harry," I brush a strand of his hair that had fallen off onto his forehead, looking over his features as my eyes wander back to his eyes, "It's going to be a while until I know what exactly how I'm feeling, but I do know I like you. I like this. This feels right," I motion to me being wrapped in his arms, a slight smile pulling at his swollen lips.

"I can live with that. As long as I get to kiss you, and hold you like this," He wraps his arm around me gripping me tightly, causing his fingertips to wrap farther into my side than I was expecting. I squirm under his touch trying to hold in my laugh, but he notices.

He raises a suspicious eyebrow at me at his newfound revelation, his smirk growing, dimples becoming more prominent, digging his fingertips even farther into my side. I tense and squirm again trying to get out of his hold, my giggles becoming more intense, eventually turning into full blown laughter the more he does it.

"Harry!" His touch on my sides causes me to squeal, "Stop, stop, stop."

He lets out a laugh at my reaction and I swear my ears have never heard a more melodic sound. It was quick, a passing laugh, but hearing it for the first time only made me want to hear it more. He's still hovering over me when the door to the studio opens abruptly and someone walks in. 

I stiffen, trying to move out from under Harry before they can walk into view. He doesn't move, which causes me to make eye contact with him. He's looking down at me with a soft smile. He plants a soft kiss on my lips before moving off of me and sitting back on the side of the couch he started out on.

I look up when he moves to see Mitch staring between the two of us, a stunned look on his face, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Shut up, Mitch," Harry says into his cup as he takes a sip of his coffee.

I look over at Harry and the back of my hand lightly taps his knee. He gives me a questioning look to which I just mouth the words 'be nice' back at him. A side of his mouth curls up softly and he breathes out a laugh through his nose. He turns his attention back to Mitch.

"You're early," he states.

Mitch walks to the middle of the room and sits on a stool. He looks between Harry and I, "So are you."

Harry brings his coffee up, nudges it at Mitch before pressing it to his lips, "Good point."

The room falls quiet again and Mitch seems uncomfortable. I'm uncomfortable. I'm thankful when Mitch breaks the silence with a question, "Are we writing or recording today?"

"Recording," Harry lowers his cup looking in my direction with a suggestive smile on his face, "I'm feeling inspired today."

He pats my knee before he stands from the couch, pulling a flashdrive from his pocket and walking over to the computer. He works for a few minutes, Mitch hovering over the back of the chair watching him work. I take the time to get my camera out, test the settings with the lighting in the studio since it was darker than I was used to.

Eventually Kid and Jeff file into the studio, followed by the rest of the band, the room growing louder and more chaotic. Harry greets everyone entering the room with a big smile, one that I've only seen a handful of times. The room seems lighter the more that I watch him interact with everyone. As if it had been months since he had seen them. He asks them how they're doing, asks them about something personal he remembered. It was clear he was close with his entire team. 

That didn't surprise me. Harry is very personable. He's the type of person to remember the smallest of details about you. The smallest thing that you mention liking, and months later, he'll get it for you for your birthday, or just a random day because he saw it and thought of you. He was considerate, probably one of the most considerate people I knew.

I sit back down on the couch trying to sink into the cushions to make myself more invisible. I fidget with my camera, messing with it to make myself look busy; suddenly feeling uncomfortably alone in the room full of people. I feel the couch sink next to me, pulling me out of my thoughts and I look up from my camera sitting in my lap. 

Sarah sits on the couch next to me, greeting me with a big smile, "Tilly, right?"

I smile back and nod my head. "I'm glad we're finally able to work together today. Last time we had a studio session... it got cut short."

My eyes flick back down to my lap, painfully remembering being in the studio for the first time. Tripping over Adam's guitar cord, his look causing a flashback, and somehow ending up outside in the parking lot. I don't speak, unsure about what to say.

"How are you doing? How's your photography?" She asks.

"It's going kind of slow. I went to Arizona with Mitch and Harry, but I took a break from it when we got back. Starting to slowly get back into it, starting today. Haven't really been taking any jobs since being back."

She gives me a small smile but furrows her eyebrows slightly, as if trying to understand why I took a break, "Well, I know the team is glad to have you back again, the pictures for the HSHQ account have been such a big hit."

My mouth mimics her small smile when Harry's laughter rolls over the room from the computer, catching our attention. My eyes linger on him longer than I mean to as I watch him interact with Jeff, Mitch and Kid like they're a group of teenage boys again joking about something they don't want the rest of the room to hear. 

"He talks about you, you know," Sarah's voice breaks me from my gaze.

"Who?"

"H," She repositions herself on the couch to get more comfortable, "He doesn't stop talking about you, actually. It's sweet."

I try to fight the smile that threatens to come across my face, failing as I look back in Harry's direction. His head is thrown back mid laugh at something Kid must have said because Mitch is hunched over laughing, pushing his arm against him as a crutch.

I giggle to myself before turning back to Sarah, "I think this is the part where I say we're just friends, but if he talks about me, then you already know that's not true."

She lets out a small giggle and nods her head, "He never really defined what you two were though. We just kind of gathered the clues from how he talks about you."

I look down at my hands, "I don't think I can define us for you either."

"How's it going with him?"

I smile before I look back up at her, "We're taking it... slow. Just seeing where it decides to take us. I don't want to put any unnecessary pressure on it, and neither does he."

She nods her head in agreement. "I understand that. New flames are fragile, you don't want to blow them out from the pressure of trying to make it bigger before it's ready," Her words make me think they might be spoken from hidden experience.

I nod and look back over to Harry, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of his green eyes looking at me from across the room. Mitch, Kid and Jeff having a conversation that probably included him at some point, but he's looking straight at me. I watch as he stands from his chair, side stepping around Kid and the desk he was sitting at and crossing the room to my couch. He sits on the arm of the couch, leaning against the back of it near my shoulder.

"You ladies aren't talking about me, are you?" He clasps his hands together in front of him, his knuckles brushing against my upper arm. 

"All good things, H. Don't worry," Sarah chimes in before I could find time to think of what to say. Sarah lifts up off the couch and walks away, leaving Harry and I alone on the couch.

He taps my shoulder gently with the back of my hand, "How're you feeling being back in the studio?"

I look over at him with furrowed eyebrows before remembering the day he was referencing; the one Sarah brought up just moments before. I smile at him, "Well, I was doing good until Sarah brought that day up a few minutes ago. Now I'm embarrassed and just want to run out of the studio and never see anyone ever again."

He smiles slightly at me, but I can see the concern written on his face. Either not catching my joke or ignoring it, worried it was meant to cover up the truth. I pat my hand on his knee, "I'm embarrassed about what happened, but I'm okay."

He looks me over once more, studying me as if it was a cover up and he'd be able to distinguish it if he lingered on my facial expressions a little longer. He doesn't press any further though and gives me a close lipped smile.

"Are you ready to start?"

I smile and nod at him. He places his arm around my head, placing his hand on the other side of my face, pulling it towards him and pressing a quick kiss to my temple while no one was watching before standing from the couch and grabbing everyone's attention. He thanks everyone for making the time to be in the studio in such a short amount of time.

He gives a small speech, commending the room to pay attention to him and I just watch in awe. "Also, Tilly is back with us after a little break, which I am super stoked about, so make sure you give her another warm welcome."

I feel the burning feeling rise up from my neck into my cheeks as a small applause erupts from the room and Harry goes to take his spot in the circle. I stand from the couch and find a spot in the corner of the room to be out of the way while they get situated with their instruments.

Before going over to his guitar, Adam walks his way over to me–putting his hands in his pocket as he gets closer, "Hey, Tilly."

I give him a small close-lipped smile, "Hey, how are you?"

"Good, good. Listen, I just wanted to apologize for the way I acted your first day you were in the studio with us. I had been having a shit day, I shouldn't have given you the look that I did."

I shrugged it off, just wanting to get out of the situation as quickly as possible, "It's no big deal. It wasn't you. I had been having a shit day as well; it had just caught up with me sooner than I had thought it would." 

He nods, giving me a little, polite smile and says before turning away, "Glad to have you back in the studio."

He goes to his place and Harry turns on his stool to face the band telling them they're working on the background sound for a song called Sunflower and they'd be using the vocals in their headphones he had already recorded as their base to go off of. Harry had a very specific way he wanted the song to sound and he would be helping them individually with their sound. He had half the song written, but needed the music to get the second half done. 

This brought me back to being in the studio with Harry, Mitch and Oliver. Oliver had told me they usually write the music first and then match the lyrics after. Oliver made it sound like Meet Me in the Hallway was the first time they created their own music for a track separately. Now look at him. Doing it willingly to be able to finish a song.

Harry starts working with the team on different notes they had written and I started walking around the room, more mindful about the cords lying on the ground this time. I took pictures of Harry interacting with everyone, the band individually at different points. I even got one that encapsulated Mitch and Harry's dynamic perfectly, Mitch trying to concentrate on his parts of the song and Harry trying to put sunglasses on him as he focused just to be a pain.

I even got pictures of Kid and Jeff collaborating on their laptops together. 

After a while, there were only so many different angles I could work before I was taking pictures of the same things. I took a break and moved towards the computer area to sit with Kid and Jeff. Jeff gave me a friendly smile as I took a seat at the table.

"Tilly, I feel like it's been forever. How've you been?"

I smile, "Good, good."

"Your photography been taking off?" He asks, I'm guessing to get down to the bottom of my absence.

I shake my head and press my lips together, "No, actually. I took a break. Things got pretty crazy for me personally after Arizona, but I'm back, and ready for anything."

He gives me an unsure smile and nods, "Glad to hear it."

I could tell there was hesitation and curiosity behind his voice, but he didn't press any further. I watched Harry and the band for a while as Kid and Jeff worked on ideas on another song Harry had in his back pocket but wasn't ready to pull the trigger on producing yet.

Watching Harry work was mesmerizing, I could watch him do it for hours and never get bored. The way he interacted with the band, the way he listened to them and their ideas even though the song was his. Never wanting to make them feel inferior to him. They listened to him just the same, taking what he said seriously and running with it. They all worked so well together, which seemed rare for a group this big.

A few hours go by of me periodically going around to take pictures and then taking a break with Jeff and Kid. Jeff eventually left for a meeting downtown and I was on a break from walking around the studio–Harry and the band still working on finding the right intro for the song. I slipped out the door and found the bathroom down the hall.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket again as I made my way down the hallway, causing me to pull it out thinking it was Lily. It was the same unknown number as before. I silenced it and slipped the phone back into my back pocket.

I stayed longer in the bathroom than I had intended to; but there was something comforting about the silence of the room that I welcomed compared to the studio. Though the main focus was the music the band needed to create, the chaotic chatter had died down from the beginning of the session. There was something about the silence that brought me peace after having so many event-filled days in a row. 

By the time I eventually made my way back to the studio, it was empty. Everyone had left, besides Harry who was sitting at the computer, his back to me working on something. I sneak up behind him, leaning over the back of the chair and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my head in the curve of his neck.

I can feel his shoulders move as he laughs at my surprise, "There you are."

"Afraid I had ran out again?" I asked against his skin, a teasing tone slipping out more than I had meant to.

"I was starting to," he chuckles, "C'mere."

He brings his hand up to my arm to signal for me to let go, grabbing me by the hand and leading me in front, between him and the computer. I sit on the arm of the desk chair, partially holding a squat, scared I was going to break it. 

"Where's everyone?"

Harry moves the chair closer to the table so he can reach the mouse and brings something up on the computer, "I sent them home. We finished the song we needed to work on, the only thing that's left until it's complete is I need to finish the lyrics."

I turn my head from the computer to look at him, a look of excitement on my face, "You finished another song?"

He nods, a smile forming on his lips, "D'you want to hear it?"

I giddily nod my head, barely able to contain my excitement. He chuckles and moves his mouse once more to hit play. I shift on the arm of the chair, trying to make the skinny bar more comfortable to sit on. He takes notice before snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me onto his lap. I look at him, surprised. All I got back was a cheeky, dimple filled grin, trying to act innocent. 

The music starts playing, casting an old seventies pop vibe in the atmosphere of the room as the notes played before the drums came in, making it more upbeat.

Sunflower. My eyes, want you more than a melody. Let me inside. Wish I could get to know you. Upon recognizing the lyrics, I lean forward and press pause, looking down at Harry. He's leaning on his opposite elbow, his fingers nervously fidgeting with his bottom lip as he peers at me. 

"Let me, inside. Wish I could get to know you? You could not be more obvious with this," I say, half joking but still in shock, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth because I didn't know what to do. 

He laughs nervously, having a hard time reading my reaction, "You haven't even listened to the whole song. Listen to it first and give it a chance before you get mad that I wrote another song about you."

"Another?" My eyes practically bulge out of my head and it makes him genuinely laugh again. He doesn't say anything, he just leans forward and presses play. I lean back against him in the chair, looking up at the ceiling listening to the lyrics as they fill my ears.

Sunflowers, sometimes. Keep it sweet in your memory. I was just tongue-tied. The only time I ever remember him being tongue-tied with me was the time he showed up nervously and awkwardly at my door after our Arizona trip. We hadn't seen or talked to each other in days, and he hadn't thought through exactly what he wanted to say to me before showing up abruptly at my door. 

I couldn't want you anymore. Kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor. I couldn't want you anymore tonight. The night he showed up to my apartment, we danced to the radio in my kitchen for the entirety of a song before we went to sleep. It was one of the most intimate moments I think we've shared. We both were realizing that while we didn't know what we wanted to say, and while things were awkward between us; we would have rather fought through the awkward tension than to be without each other's company.

Wondering headshake. Tired eyes are the death of me. Mouthful of toothpaste, before I got to know you. My tired eyes meeting his at the door that night he slept over, and the next morning, sharing a moment of peace in the bathroom before he asked me how I felt after having the first good night I had had in a long time. The question that inevitably became our unspoken check in. Before I slightly let him in for the first time.

I've got your face, hung up high in a gallery. I love, this shade. The early morning that I found out he had our first picture taken together hung up on his wall in his living room. Shade. Either the color gold that he sees when he thinks of me, or pink, the color I said I see when I think of him.

Harry leans forward and stops the track causing me to open my eyes and sit up a bit straighter. He takes it as I'm trying to move away from him, and Harry instinctively wraps his arm tighter around my waist, thinking I was going to get up, "You hate it."

His words are a statement, and less of a questioning nature. I shake my head, shifting my body on his leg so that I could see him without killing the muscles in my neck, "No, actually. I don't hate it. Surprised by the blatantly obvious lyrics? Absolutely. I could never hate something that you've worked on. It's a huge compliment that you thought so much of those moments to fit them in a song."

"Those were the moments when I started to think, 'this between us might be something bigger than a friendship.'"

His hand around my waist pressed firmly on my hip again, his palm flat against my jeans. He pulls me down to him and makes our lips connect, but it's short lived before he releases. When he does, he has a deviant smile on his lips, "What are you doing the rest of the day?"

I shrugged into his chest, "I had just planned on going home and editing the pictures I took."

"Do you have everything you need to do that with you?" He raises an eyebrow.

I nod. "How does coming over to my place to edit pictures, ordering take out, watching movies and then losing track of time so you have to sleep over tonight, sound?"

A giggle escapes my lips and I shake my head, messing with the strand of hair that had fallen to his forehead in the rain the night before and earlier in the couch, "We don't have to lose track of time for me to stay the night anymore. I thought I made that clear when I slept over after a shift at the bar."

"You did, I was just double checking. Get your stuff packed up. I have to finish a couple more things and then I'll be ready to go." His fingers curving around my side tap my hip, signaling for me to get up. I go around the room and grab my belongings before moving to sit behind Harry. 

As I'm packing my bag, I glance up at his back and I see him in a fog of thought so thick, I didn't think there was anything that could break him out of it. I pull my camera up to my face, taking my last series of pictures of the day before putting my camera away. I wait a few minutes after getting my things together, assuming he would be ready to go by the time I was done, but he was still lost in thought at the computer.

I grew tired of waiting and walk up behind him as I had before, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pressing my face back into his neck. I don't think I could ever grow tired of his smell, "Baby..."

His hand flies to my arm in reaction before finding my head. He crooks his head at an angle where he can see me, his eyes colored a dark emerald from the shock. He looks at me a moment as if to ask me if I actually meant it or if it was a fluke. The smile that slowly grows over my lips tells him everything he's searching for.

"You didn't," is all he says, his lips fighting a battle against a smile, and losing. He's looking between my eyes and my mouth, but there's something behind his eyes fighting with the choice that I can tell he desperately wants to make. I don't make it for him, afraid that I'll choose the wrong option.

"I did."

"I think I want to kiss you, but I'm afraid I'll never be able to stop," his voice is quiet. It wouldn't have been audible if we weren't the only ones in the room.

"So kiss me. There are worst things in the world," as I speak, our bottom lips brush together, making it irresistibly difficult to use self control.

He presses his lips on mine gently, softly taking my hair in his hand as he does. He moves his mouth against mine for not long enough before he wills himself to pull away. I accidentally let out an audible whimper when he does, causing Harry to chuckle. He logs off the computers in a hurry and turns around abruptly, towering directly over me. He grabs my bag from the table and hoists it over his shoulder, holding out his hand for me to take.

–

When we got to his house, he immediately got a call that sounded important. He signaled to the phone and then to the stairs after he had answered it, letting me know he was going to take it upstairs. I sat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, opening up my laptop to transfer all the pictures from the day from my camera. While they were transferring, I looked around at the familiar surroundings of his house, the smell, the atmosphere. Everything seemed different, but they seemed the same all at once. It had been too long since I had been over, and yet it felt like I was just here yesterday. My eyes wandered to the wall by the shelves; our picture still hung up high. 

I used to wince at the thought of that night, and that trip in general. What I thought were bad memories, were just memories that I didn't understand that could be perceived as good until now. He had shown me a level of love, intent, and care those nights that I had never known from anyone. He gave me a space where I could truly be myself without judgment. Something I could only hope and dream that I would get the opportunity to show to him one day; so he knew what it felt like to be cared for the he does for me.

I look over the pictures that load onto the laptop, sorting through the good ones and the blurry ones, or the ones that I just didn't like in general. Harry comes back downstairs eventually, wearing sweatpants and his same t-shirt from this morning, his hair looking more tussled than before.

He comes up behind me and places his hand on my shoulders, giving them a small massage before planting a kiss on the top of my head. I've convinced myself that there's never going to be a better feeling than his touch. I lean my head back, closing my eyes, enjoying him massaging my shoulders. He chuckles and plants a kiss on my temple, before moving slightly down, trailing them to the tip of my shoulder as I continue to sort.

He sees that I'm still working and reaches over me, moving the laptop out of my grasp. Before lifting me off my chair.

"Harry!" I squealed, "I was editing pictures."

"I was editing pictures," he mocks, throwing me over his shoulder and walks into the living room. I let out a squeal when I feel the sensation of falling, Harry following, his hands on my waist. We fall over the back of the couch, sinking into the cushions. His hands raise slightly and find the spot that he had found this morning when we were alone in the studio. My hands immediately fly to his, trying to stop him before he could start, but I was too late. The sudden contact of his fingertips applying just enough pressure into my sides send me into a fit of giggles and squirming. 

Harry lowers his weight on top of me to hold me down better, and I'm completely at his mercy. "H-Harry, pl-please, I can't b-breathe!" I muster out between laughing fits. My hands instinctively fly to his wrist, trying to pry them off me, but he was so much stronger. 

"Sorry, Tils. No can do,"

"Harry, please," I'm begging at this point, willing to do anything at this point to be able to catch my breath and relieve the soreness in my abdomen from laughing so hard.

"Fine. On one condition," his eyes look down at me as he hovers over my face, his face dawning a wide smile, his fingers mercilessly tickling my sides until they were sore.

I look back at him; the pleading in my eyes I'm sure could not have been more obvious. "Call me baby again."

The words roll off his tongue so fast and so easily they stun me for a split moment before I'm brought back to the merciless situation he has me in. "P-please, baby. I-I can't breathe."

His fingers immediately stop before they're tangled into the roots of my hair, grabbing either side of my head and his lips are crashing into mine. I breathe him in through his kiss, as if he's the only sustenance I need. It's heated–there's undeniable passion–sending heat straight through the core of my body and radiating out to my limbs. Every place he touches me is set on fire, tingling, burning in a way I didn't know was possible. My thighs, my hips, the bottom of my ribcage. 

"Wait..." he releases, lifting his weight off of me. I take the extra room I have and sit up facing him. 

"I'm sorry," I say immediately, curling my legs close to my chest.

He sees what I'm doing and puts his hand on my knee to stop me, "You didn't do anything wrong. I just... I don't want to get lost in you, Tilly. Not yet; and you make it incredibly easy to do."

"What?" It was clear he was deep in through himself. Probably stressing about if the work they did tonight would be good enough.

"In the studio, you said he didn't like his picture being taken. Said he would have your career if he saw me taking pictures. Why?"

Oliver shrugged trying to think of something without giving away too much, "The man just likes his privacy, is all."

My shoulders collapse into the passenger seat a bit, and to my surprise he notices. Noticed my reaction when I didn't get the details I had been hoping for. I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for, but surely a little more than 'the man just likes his privacy.' 

Don't we all?

"Look, one thing about this industry that you don't know – and I hope you never do – is that it's brutal. It can suck the life right out of you if you let it. Sometimes, it happens without you even knowing," Oliver's grip on the steering wheel tightens, as if he's seeing a distant memory, "It happened to Harry once and he's just now starting to bounce back from it. I just don't want to see all the progress he's made fly out the window."

"The industry's caused him to not like having his picture taken?"

"In summary, yes. He's had his privacy invaded since he was a teenager, Tils. He went from being a normal teenager to being somebody that everyone in the world wanted a piece of in a matter of months and it's never been the same for him since," Oliver turns the car down the street toward his apartment after merging off the highway, "Being out in public is nerve wracking for him because paparazzi could be anywhere. Waiting around a corner for him to make one wrong move. He's constantly looking over his shoulder and around at his surroundings. Having his picture taken is a trigger."

"A trigger?" My eyes look over at him again confused by his words.

"He shuts down. We're this close to an album release...," He pinches his fingers together with the smallest gap of space, "We just can't afford the time that would be lost if something like that happened."

"How do you know so much about it? You're not being followed around like he is," I challenge, knowing full well he has freedom in public to do what he wants.

"Fair, I'm not. But being tied to Harry – whether it be professionally, or something else – will give you some form of attention, whether it be good or bad, warranted or unwarranted."

"Something else?"

Oliver takes a deep breath and releases a sigh that he wasn't aware he was holding in, "Any form of relationship with someone of his status will bring intrusiveness in your life that you've never seen before. You thought Mom and Dad were bad when we were kids before the divorce? This is at least twenty times worse."

"Dating someone like him, Til, won't get you anywhere in life besides heart broken and caught up in the public eye for the wrong reasons. He's a great guy, and if it wasn't for his job, his personality would be one on someone that I would be okay with you being with; dating, bringing 'home' to meet me. Due to his profession, I know things will only end badly. Someone like him isn't worth your time."

—

The wind suddenly blowing rain into my dry safe haven under the door covering of my apartment knocks me back into reality. I look around at my surroundings trying to gather where I am again. My front door, keys still in hand and my clutch still tucked under my arm. I look to the parking lot.

Harry.

At least his car. Still parked in its parking space from before, his tail lights glowing red and the engine running. It causes my head to flood with the memories of the night, like a fast paced movie trailer flashing behind my eyes in a matter of seconds. The stolen glances, the banter and conversation, the gentle touches, the small acts of affection he showed me throughout the night, the butterflies that are still lingering despite – 

'I think I'm falling in love with you, Tilly Florence.' 

He slipped it in so effortlessly as if it wasn't going to bring my entire world to a blinding halt with ten simple words. He didn't want me to respond. He told me not to say anything. How was I supposed to feel after hearing those words coming from his mouth? When just days ago he hinted we were more than friends but didn't add any other label.

I shake my head in an attempt to rid my mind of the memories, turning my attention to the door now. I turn the key, unlocking it, and step inside. I turn back before shutting the door completely and finally see his car flip on the reverse lights and start backing out of the spot seeing that I'm now inside the apartment.

I shut the door gently trying not to wake Lily before locking it and turning back around. I'm met with the image of Willow jumping down off the couch and running to me and Lily parked in the middle of the couch, face lit up by the movie she's watching on the television, her hand in the middle of guiding a handful of popcorn to her open mouth that's waiting for the bite. 

She stops in her tracks and looks at me, taking a second to process my appearance in the living room. She puts the popcorn down and stops her movie before turning to me with her eyebrows cinched together in confusion, "Why are you home? Do I need to get my baseball bat?"

Her question causes me to snort while I move to the kitchen island to put my clutch down and lean against it for support in taking off my heels. I shake my head, "No."

Her eyebrows only draw in closer together, "Then the hell are you home?"

"The date ended?"

"Okay... let me rephrase... Why aren't you at his house right now, doing 'after-date' activities?"

I roll my eyes, slipping off one of my heels and finding sweet relief the moment my flat foot hits the floor after walking around in them all night. 

I shrug before removing the other heel, "He said he wasn't interested in sleeping with me on the first date. That tonight was about spending time with me."

Lily stares blankly at me, blinking in total bewilderment, "You've got to be kidding me."

I raise an eyebrow at her, planting my other flat foot on the ground while waiting for her to continue, "You've been spending time together since you started working for him. He's had all the time he wants to get to know you, why does he need a date to do it?"

My mind flashes once again to the night he showed up at the bar and lectured me about standing up for the treatment I deserve. A portion of me is screaming to explain to her why he wouldn't spend the night tonight. Another portion of me is telling me that maybe some things are best to be kept a secret; just between him and I. I'm silent a moment as I place my shoes I've just removed by the door and remove my bracelet and watch from my wrist.

"I think we need to start from the beginning because from what it sounds like, it was a shit date, but you didn't give off that vibe when you walked in the door, the way you carried yourself."

"Start from the beginning?" I ask her. Lily nods. 

"Lil, I need a shower. I'm dripping wet, and I'm freezing. I just want to get out of this dress."

"Alright."

I move down the hall to my bedroom, finding underwear and his t-shirt from earlier today. I return to the bathroom and go to shut the door. I turn the water hotter than I usually do. Wanting to rid my body of the feeling of the cold water that had been clinging to it for the past forty minutes from the rain.

Not even two minutes into my shower, the door to the bathroom barges open and I peek my head out of the shower curtain to gain a better view. Lily is sitting criss crossed on the closed toilet seat, her popcorn in hand, looking in my direction as if she's a child waiting for their favorite movie to start.

"Do you mind?" I ask her, gesturing to me naked behind the shower curtain.

"No," she shoves a bite of popcorn in her mouth, "Do you mind? I'm just here for the details."

She reaches to the counter of the sink next to her and takes a sip out of a wine glass that I hadn't noticed was there before. She holds it out to me, offering me some and I immediately shook my head before closing myself back up into the shower.

"Okay, I'm ready. Start from the beginning." Lily urges me and my mind rakes through the events of the evening, sorting through what I should tell her and what would be better left unsaid.

"Well, you'll probably see a picture of me tomorrow on that website you read. BuzzFeed? There were cameras everywhere when we got there, and even more after we left the restaurant," I gathered some shampoo into my hand and slowly lather it into my scalp.

"He did tell me that was going to happen. How did that go?"

"It was nerve wracking. He was very sweet throughout the whole thing. Covered the door when I was getting in and out of the car from the cameras so I wouldn't flash them with my dress at the angle I was sitting in. He was comforting and reassuring, all around the perfect gentleman." A smile creeps across my lips remembering the simple little details he did throughout the night that made it so sweet. 

"Jesus, you're going to make me puke," she mutters sarcastically under her breath; without a doubt in my mind that I wasn't supposed to hear it over the running shower, "Did he kiss you?"

Did he kiss me? My fingers absentmindedly trace over my lips as the moments come rushing back to me, "Yes, a few times." I added.

Lily groans from outside the shower curtain, "I need more details, Tils. You're giving me breadcrumbs and I want the whole damn loaf." 

I turn around, my back facing the water and rinse the shampoo from my hair before moving to conditioner and body wash as I give her the details that she's asking for, "Okay, okay. We had dinner outside on the beach. Food was good, the wine was even better. After we left, I thought we were going to come back here and watch tv or something but he took me to the museum. We spent some time there; talking, dancing."

I turn off the water and reach out of the shower searching for my towel, "Dancing?"

I dried my body with the towel before grabbing Harry's t-shirt from the floor and pulling it over my head and stepping out of the shower, I nodded my head, "He played a song on his phone and we swayed to it. After that, we stayed like that just talking. Eventually it started raining and I tried to go back to the car, but he stopped me. Pulled me to him and spun me around in the pouring rain. Kissed me like he's never kissed me before; slow, unrushed."

I shimmy my underwear over my hips under the shirt. Out of my peripheral vision I can see Lily narrowing her eyes at me, studying me as I lotioned my legs, "Why do I feel like there's something you're not telling me?"

Her question is borderline accusing and I know she can see right through me. I've never been able to keep things from her. Not easily anyway. Within a few weeks of knowing her, she knew all about my family and my life story. It's actually a miracle I didn't scare her off since we were so new to each other.

I sigh, releasing the tension in my shoulders knowing it was no use keeping it in. I moved the shower curtain over, sitting on the side of the tub and leaning on my knees, closing the space between us as if someone could find out the secret in our tiny apartment.

I look down at my clasped hands, trying to find the way I want to word my next bit of news I have for her. She takes a sip of wine before shoving more popcorn in her mouth in high anticipation for what was about to roll off my tongue.

"He told me he's falling in love with me, Lil." Her eyes go wide, bulging out of her head, to the point that I was afraid they would pop out onto the bathroom floor. Her mouth hangs open, thankfully right after she chewed her bite of popcorn so we don't run the risk of her choking. She's frozen, speechless, flabbergasted, much like I was in the moment under the lights hours before this. 

"I'm sorry, he did what now?"

I bite my lip trying to hide my laugh from her shocked state,"You heard me right."

"Falling in love with you?" It's a question, but she says it more as a statement, almost needing to hear the words again to make sure she's not hearing things. She takes a gulp of her wine and then hands me the glass despite me declining it earlier.

"I know you said no, but I'm spiraling, so I know you are too, you're just hiding it better than I am. If you're not now, I know you will be soon, so drink." Just as I'm about to shake my head again, declining her offer, she shoves the drink in my face further, forcing me to oblige. I throw back the rest of the drink and set it on the counter before leaning my weight on it, looking myself over in the mirror.

She sets her empty popcorn on the counter and leans her elbows on her knees, running her hands through her hair, one of her legs bouncing. She exhales heavily. She looks stressed and I can't quite tell why. Just a few days ago she was freaking out when I told her about the first time he kissed me, and labeled us more than friends. This was not the reaction I was expecting, unless this was her processing everything beforehand.

Her head shoots up from her hands suddenly, "Shots. I need a shot."

I follow her out to the kitchen and watch as she pours us tequila, "I don't need one Lily. I've had enough to drink."

"Tilly, humor me for a second, please. You just told me Harry Styles admitted to falling in love with you, and I'm the only one freaking out about this. I can't be the only one freaking. Not this. If there was ever anything for you to freak out about; if there was ever anything to send you into a blinding panic attack, this would be acceptable."

I humor her, and take the shot of tequila she pours, feeling the burn as it travels down to my stomach. She throws back two before putting the bottle away. She leans against the kitchen island as if leaning the weight of Harry's words into it because it was too much to carry on her own.

"Lily, if this is how you react about someone telling me they're falling in love, how are you going to react when you hear someone tell you for the first time?"

She shoots me a glare and shakes her head vigorously, "I can't think about that right now. All I can think about is how you must've felt when you heard him say it? I mean this happened so fast, I don't understand how we got here."

I lean back on the barstool I'm sitting in across from her and cross my arms, shrugging slightly, "I don't think it hit me until he walked away from the front door to go back to the car. To be honest it might not have fully hit me yet."

"Well, what do you think you feel?"

I shrug again, looking at my leg that was bouncing on the foot rest of the stool, "I'm not sure. After he said it he told me I didn't have to say or do anything. Just that it was on his mind and he wanted me to know."

"So you didn't say it back?"

I shook my head and look at her just as she runs her hands through her hair again, tugging at her roots gently, "How did he seem? Angry? Sad? Off?"

I shook my head, "He seemed his usual self before he walked away. He didn't seem upset at all."

She shook her head this time, placing her head in her hands and rubbing her eyes with her fingers as if this story physically pained her to hear, "Somewhere in life, someone went wrong in teaching both of you how to be in a relationship."

I raised an eyebrow at her, "People say they love you or they're in love with you to hear it back, Tilly. That's just what you do when someone says it; you say it back."

I shook my head, looking down again before looking at her and biting my lip to keep my smile at bay, "I don't know, Lily. This felt different. It always feels different with him."

And for the first time since coming home, I see a smile form across her lips, "Different?"

I nod my head, unable to stop my smile from growing from the sight of hers, "He feels like a safe space. I mean, he's gotten me to open up about things in a matter of two months. You are the only other person that's been able to do that with me. That should say something."

She nods her head slowly, soaking up my realization that's hanging in the air between us. 

I push off the back of my chair and lean against the island to be closer to her, leaning my elbows down and clasping my hands into a fist, "Look, I think this could be good for me. I think he could be good for me. I don't necessarily know how I feel or know what it means, but I do know that he brings out a new side of me that I like. I like the way I feel around him."

Lily smiles wider and moves her hands to clasp over mind, "If that's the case, then I'll swallow what I said about it being too soon. I'm happy for you, Tilly. You are different since you met him, and I like the new and improved version. Just make sure you don't get too wrapped up in him too fast, okay?"

'Dating someone like him, Til, won't get you anywhere except heart broken.'

I smile a close-lipped smile at her and squeeze her hands as a thank you before releasing. I say my goodnights to her, only just now realizing that it was almost one thirty in the morning. 

I grab my phone and clutch off the counter before taking Willow into my room for bed. Lying down with the lights off, I unlock my phone for the first time in a couple hours and see I have a missed call.

Harry. Fifteen minutes ago.

I press the notification and immediately starts ringing into a new phone call.

"Hi, sunshine," his voice rings through the speaker after only ringing three times. His voice is riddled with fatigue as it cracks when it lowers.

I immediately smile at the swarm of butterflies it releases in my stomach, "Hi."

"Missed me too much, you just needed to hear my voice one more time before going to sleep?"

I shake my head, still smiling like an idiot, "You called me first, remember?"

He takes a pause thinking on my words, "Oh, yeah. I think I fell asleep after I called you. I don't know, it's a little bit of a blur."

I stay quiet, not sure what to say because it seemed like he didn't have a true reason to call me. My head starts to feel light from the added alcohol in my system, the wine and tequila doing a dance; fighting over their control on me. 

"Erm, I called to see if you would be free to come to the studio tomorrow? Jeff is wigging that we haven't had a studio session with the whole team in a while, and he wants pictures taken. He also wants to be there and the only time that he has available tomorrow is eight in the morning. I know it's short notice," He apologizes.

"No, no. It's fine. I don't have to work tomorrow," I peel back my phone from ear a moment to look at the time before putting it back up to it, "I'm just going to be running on fumes tomorrow, if that's the case and it's almost two."

"I'm sorry, love," he exhales a sigh through the phone and then I hear him adjust in bed on the other end of the phone, "He has strong opinions about getting this album done and he thinks I've been wasting time."

"It's not fair to you. You and the whole team are going through your first time writing without Oliver and processing the feelings all over again as you navigate trying to find yourself after losing him." He's quiet on the other end of the phone for a few seconds.

"Sometimes I get inexplicably angry at Jeff for no reason because of how fast it seemed like he moved on from him dying. I know the world continues to move after you lose someone, but it just felt like his should have been paused for a little while longer before we tried to pick up the pieces and move on with the next project," I feel my heart melt into the phone at his words. Maybe it's the time of night, maybe it's the fact that he had been asleep when I called him back, but it seemed like he was talking absentmindedly to me. Not trying to filter his words around me, just speaking the first thing that comes to his mind and gives me a little window into who he is and what he's feeling. 

I smile into the phone, unable to find the words to say to him. I don't say anything. I just let the silence fill the space in the phone between us, until— 

"I had a good time tonight, Tilly," He breaks me away from my train of thought. His sentence is short, simple; but the words don't sound rehearsed or practiced. He sounds sincere.

"Me too," I tell him, fighting my giddy laugh from surfacing, shoving it back down into my throat.

All too fast, my mind lingers on the memory of my brother and I in the car after his studio session with Harry and Mitch before his first album came out. 

'Due to his profession, I know things will end badly. He's not worth your time.'

My breath lingers in my throat, choking me and preventing me from continuing the conversation. Almost as if he could sense the shift in my demeanor over the phone, he speaks up. His voice soft with a slight rasp to it from the late night, "What's the matter, love?"

I don't answer right away; how could I? I never planned on telling him the doubts that I had about us and whatever we are. I also know that he'll see through any facade I put up in front of him because I accidentally let him know me too well.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, physically preparing myself for the words that were about to come out of my mouth.

"I'm scared," My words come out barely a breath, and I'm surprised he could even hear them through the phone speaker.

"About what, Tils?" There's pure curiosity behind his voice and a little bit of concern mixing in as he waits. 

My eyes flutter shut at the sound of the name coming off his lips unexpectedly and I try to will the butterflies to calm in my stomach. I'm quiet for too long. Long enough for him to start speculating and he nails it right on the head.

"About us? About what I said earlier?"

I purse my lips together in a straight line and nod my head, forgetting he wasn't here and couldn't see me, "Yeah."

My voice comes out breath-like and shaky. A whisper getting lost in a gust of wind. The silence on his end of the phone rings in my ears too loudly and I search for something to say to break it, but come up empty.

"Is this why you were nervous last night? Telling me you wouldn't tell me unless it became a problem?" I've been caught.

"Yeah," is all I can muster out again, afraid of his impending reaction.

"Do you want to talk about it tomorrow? We can meet at the studio early before everyone gets there? Seven?" I smile at the thought of being able to see him before seeing the entire group for the first time in weeks, almost months despite the circumstances of us meeting.

"I'm going to need coffee if we're meeting that early." I smile faintly into the phone.

"Deal, I'll be at the studio at seven with your iced coffee in hand," His smile rings through his voice as he speaks, enough to make me melt into my mattress and pillows, "Get some sleep, love. I'll see you tomorrow. It'll be okay."

We say our goodnights and I put my phone on the charger, unable to sleep but trying to force it to happen with the fact that I'll for sure be hungover tomorrow and the start of my day keeps getting pushed earlier and earlier.

—

thank you so much for being here if you're still reading <3 you're amazing and the reason that i haven't given up on this story yet

i hope life is kind to you this week xoxo