Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 72

Chapter 72

Leaving Italy felt monumental in a sense. Like Harry and I had reached and overcome the final peak of a hike, up a mountain so high and terrifying, that beginning the descent back down was a whole other story. Letting go of what you'd worked so hard to make your way up towards for so long was scary all on its own. All of the training, the build-up, leading to this point only for it to come to its ultimate cessation in a whirlwind of a moment.

Boyfriend and girlfriend.

What did that mean for the two of us? What did that mean going forward?

We'd pretty much acted the part until now, the only thing having been omitted being the label itself. And now that it was finally there, was I excited? Nervous? I couldn't exactly place how I felt but I knew that it felt right, despite any other outward emotion that was threatening to bubble from beneath my skin.

Neither of us had been in a rush to leave anyway. We had been scheduled to fly back out Sunday morning, but Harry had refused to let me go, the two of us spending almost half the day in bed, migrating later in the afternoon toward the patio where we'd sat in the sun, swam, cooked, and painted. I learned that he was a surprisingly good chef and an equally as surprisingly awful painter, which I made sure to tell him made no fucking sense given how good he was at other forms of art.

"It's just confusing," he'd grumbled, the arm that had snaked its way around my waist as I'd come to stand beside him, inspecting his canvas, giving me a squeeze. "The colours don't blend like they do with charcoal or pencils."

"Or crayons?" I'd teased, giving his cheek a chaste kiss. "Because this looks like a second-grader painted it."

Harry had blown out a breath, his brows jutting together. He chewed on his inner cheek in a few silent moments of contemplation before muttering, "Talented fucking second-grader, at least. Give me that much." He yanked me onto his lap, waiting until I finished laughing and caught my breath before slowly leaning down to kiss me, whispering into my mouth, "I think I'll stick to just watching you paint."

He called the pilot on three separate occasions over the course of the day, delaying our departure further and further into the evening every time until finally it had become inevitable. We needed to leave. We had to step back into our roles as responsible adults, face the reality of what was to come, and head back home.

Needless to say, by the time we finally did touch back down hours later in a city that should have excited me to return to, I only felt tired. Exhausted almost. Wishing things could be easier for Harry and I, that whatever sort of dangerous world he was caught up in would just up and disappear, because now my worry for him was warranted. He was mine, someone I was supposed to watch out and care for. No longer could I spend weeks on end trying to squash the feelings of dread and anxiety for his wellbeing that I had carried around with me on the daily – feelings that I'd harboured for far too long since I'd met him, actually.

"Baby," Harry's voice was gravelly, thick with sleep as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, kissing toward my jaw. I hadn't even realized I'd been standing beside the car, rooted to the spot and unwilling to step inside, until he murmured, "What's going on? You okay?"

We'd both slept for the majority of the flight and despite the fact that it was only the beginning of the evening, darkness just beginning to creep through the sky, I had a feeling we were both going to pass right back out the minute we got back to his place. We were stood in the middle of the gated tarmac, our car and two security vans the only ones remaining. The pilot and other crew had long since left, Harry and I having taken our time to exit the plane and unload all of our stuff.