Verbatim: Part Two [h.s]

Eight *

2 Weeks Later 

Today is Harry's Birthday.

His 29th Birthday.

February 1st.

And according to everyone around me, he hates celebrating his birthday. I had spoken to Niall about it, texted with him, and he just told me not to bother because to Harry it is just another day. Usually, they just get fucked, end up in some sort of fight, but it isn't Harry's birthday. With more thought, it made sense, of course he doesn't like his birthday, his dad killed himself on Harry's 13th birthday. I didn't need to ask him about it, he had opened up with me and I know it would just cut him more to rehash that wound.

But...

I am going to celebrate his birthday. Birthdays are the celebration of life and I am so fucking thankful Harry was born. Here even if it was only for me. I'll be selfish enough to say that.

Niall just told me good luck and to let him know if I need anything, in particular, he did give me a heads up that Harry might not be happy about it. But it's a risk I think it is worth taking. I think I could offer him another reason to celebrate his birthday, at least with me. I love birthdays.

For the past 2 weeks, Harry and I have just been appreciating one another. We had some more open conversations about what happened in the basement. He had asked one night about the scar on my inner thigh, asked for the story, and although I choked on my words I managed to tell him. That led to him kissing that scar extra that night, but he's made it a habit to kiss my whole body especially when we shower or bathe together, when we're getting intimate, he makes sure to make my whole body feel alive, feel loved and feel beautiful.

We haven't left the apartment much, well not at all. I tried one afternoon, we needed some food and we headed to the supermarket. And well, it ended in a spiralling panic attack, I cried... hard, and we had to leave immediately. I don't know what it was. It was so busy, so many people around, they bumped into us, and although Harry had his arms pinned on either side of me as we pushed the trolley, I couldn't stop the panic.

I already had a lot of social anxiety, being in crowded spaces, but I'd never had that anxiety when going to a supermarket. And now... well, that's indented a permanent fear in me. at the thought of going to a shop again has my heart pounding, even now just thinking about it has my hands sweating, and I have to shake my head.

I pull myself out of my thoughts as I finish moulding the chocolate chip dough in my hands, and place the 12 balls on the baking sheet covered tray. Turning around, I place them in the preheated oven and place the timer on. I then plant my hands on the edge of the counter and my head falls back to that anxious place.

I didn't try to leave the house again after that, if people have wanted to see me they've come here. To Harry's. Both Audrey and my mum have visited, Harry just cleared off upstairs to his office and left us downstairs to talk and hang out. but I couldn't bring myself to go outside. The furthest Harry managed to get me out of the apartment was to the car, one night Harry suggested we just go for a drive around the city. I was having a restless night, unable to sleep, and well it actually helped.

And so it became a little routine on those harder nights, to get into the car in our pyjamas, and just go drive around the city and look at the city lights. We'd listen to Fleetwood Mac, hum softly, Harry's hand would take place on my thigh, keeping a tight hold of me. And it was perfect. Every time.

"Hey, baby." I squeal, turning to look over my shoulder to Harry who has wrapped his arms around me from behind.

"Harry you aren't supposed to be down here!" My heart still pounds from his surprise that had distracted me from my thoughts.