You moved the same ornament for the third time in the last hour. It was Christmas Eve, and nearing midnight. You were trying not to get too antsy... but it wasn't much use.
His day on set ran late, as it did most of the time. But tonight wasn't "most nights", or a FaceTime call that could be picked up whenever. He knew how much you loved the holiday, and how excited you were to share it with him. And he promised he'd be home for it.
He promised.
But he missed his flight, and now he was behind schedule. You knew what you were signing up for with him - the most sought after man you'd ever encountered. He was constantly being pulled every which way. And it didn't bother you much. No, you really didn't mind. You just wanted one night, one night where he was on time, when you didn't get the "running late" text or "don't wait up" call.
You'd gotten it though. You'd gotten the first call three hours ago... which was two hours after you had expected him to be home. And then another call every hour since. He'd asked you to play the song, keep it playing until he got there. But the minutes turned into hours with no sight of him. You kept waiting, hoping you'd hear the garage opening for him to pull his car inside, the jingle of the bell ornament on the door handle, the patter of his socked feet on the floor.
Instead, nothing but silence.
You were blowing out the cookie scented candle that was perched on the coffee table when your phone rang softly beneath a pillow on the couch. It was going to be the "go to bed without me, love" call, you could feel it.
"Hi," you answered.
"Still playing the song?" His voice was deep, an easy tone that was saved just for you.
"Harry," you sighed. "It's almost midnight, babe." Despite your words and disposition, Frank Sinatra was still serenading you with I'll Be Home For Christmas from the record player in the corner of your living room.
"I know, love." He sounded the slightest bit defeated. He tried, you know he did. "Just keep it on, yeah? Manifesting and what not."
You smiled softly, but kept quiet. You loved him - you loved him so much. But you also felt like you missed him more than you physically got to love him.
"How is the storm there?" you asked softly, as if you hadn't already checked the weather at JFK. As if you didn't already know that inclement weather had his nonstop flight from LA to London changing to a connection in New York, that his flight was delayed, that it was more likely than not that he was stuck there.
"Not good, angel."
You sighed. You knew, but it hurt to hear him say it.
"Don't lose hope yet. Jeff's working on it," he added quickly.
"Don't think Jeff is a miracle worker, H."
Harry hummed softly. "He's been known to work his magic on more than one occasion."
You appreciated his optimism. And you hoped he was right. You hoped that Jeff could find some way to get him home. You just... wanted to wake up with him on Christmas morning. You felt selfish for it, but you also didn't. Because it wasn't selfish to want him around. Especially for the holidays. Isn't that what most people wanted? To share the holidays with their loved ones? And who did you love more than him?
"Think I'm gonna head to bed," you solemnly spoke.
"Okay, love. Just... humor me, okay? Keep the song on."
***
The slightest tickle against your cheek pulled you from sleep. You could smell his cologne before you even opened your eyes, and you could have sworn it was a dream. The softest touch of his fingers grazing your cheek and jaw, his breath against your temple before you felt the soft press of his mouth against your skin.
