More than a Melody (H.S) ON HOLD

54

*lil bit of smut ahead*

fifty four

one month since Olive's death

"Harry, no! Please! Please, please, please, don't, I won't ever do it again, I swear, pinky promise!"

He looks down, and for a moment there is a glimmer of something- pity, almost?- but it doesn't last long. Gone the moment it shone.

I am tossed into the sea, the salty layers of pearly blue bubbling above me as gravity forces my body down. It's cold, so cold I gasp and my body stiffens, but within seconds its presence is refreshing and I can feel myself smiling alongside the bobbing boat.

I hear Harry's laugh from above the surface, a guiding comfort. His voice wanders across the waves as I stretch my fingers towards the sun.

"Styles, I will fucking kill you. Just wait 'til I get back on that boat!"

The waves make the boat teeter as I grip the iron bars along the side, my mind on a mission of its own. He always throws me in first. He's taken me out on the boat three times now and we barely make it ten minutes before he's slinging me out like shark bait. He either really trusts these waters or has an ulterior motive I don't know of yet.

Or he's just an asshole.

A very lovable and compelling asshole.

"Without a helping hand, you'll be down there forever baby. But I admire the perseverance." Harry throws me a wink and a shit eating grin as I pitifully rely on my nonexistent upper body strength to tug myself on board. I flail my arms out, gripping and reaching for anything remotely sturdy, and clench my stomach to wiggle aboard.

Five trial and errors later, Harry holds out his hand, sets aside his excessive laughter, and helps me onto the boat. My stomach is tinted a faint shade of red from the struggle and my chest heaves because I am just so horribly out of shape, but I was on the boat and out of the water and that was relief in itself.

"Remind me again why I willingly tag along with you, every time?"

Yesterday marks one month since arriving in Italy, and we've already managed to do everything under the sun. Our favorite, though, is getting on the boat and sailing out past the coastline; being completely and utterly alone together while lying on the deck or seeing who can hold their breath the longest. The distraction was ideal but didn't inherently mean that all of my problems were being swept under the rug and unacknowledged.

We talk about it, every night. He still holds me when dry heaving and hyperventilating is the only way I can communicate. A month was a very small fragment of time compared to forever, something I've been aware of for awhile now. Some days are better than others, but with each one, I feel safer. The more time stretches the more open I become with this new life I've been exposed to. Going to the markets, sitting alone in the garden, or going out drinking no longer poses as much of a threat as it used to. I've even grown closer with Clo, although she can be quiet at times. I'm sure she's still as wary of me as I am of her. It will get easier though; it will all start to feel natural, someday.

"Pretty sure I had a legitimate reason to throw you in though, yeah?"

My sodden feet direct trails of saltwater down the crevices of the slick-proof floor, seeping beneath Harry's toes as he unravels a towel and places it down on the deck.