here {styles}

home

"Here, love," Harry says, offering me a steaming mug of coffee. 

"Thank you," I reply as he walks away, pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it in the hamper.

I'm sat on the foot of our bed, wrapped in the familiar lavender throw blanket, one of Harry's t-shirts clinging to my wet skin. Being home is like coming up for air. Everything is comfortable, everything is exactly how I like it. Quiet. Warm. Rain pounding on the roof above. Oak tree candles burning on the mantle above the fireplace. Harry by my side.

My eyes travel to the closet, where he's toweling his hair dry, wearing only boxer briefs. I can't help but stare; it's been weeks since we've been intimate and it's all I can think about right now. Harry's back is to me, but there's a mirror in front of him, so when he looks up, he catches me staring at him in the reflective surface.

A wry smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he turns to face me, dropping the damp towel carelessly over his shoulder and coming towards me. I mentally scold him for that, knowing it'll leave a wet spot on the carpeted floor. But this isn't my home anymore, it's not my job to nag at him to clean up after himself. It's not my job to make sure he goes to bed at a decent hour the night before a work event, ensuring he's well rested. It's not my job to remind him to call his mum every week because she misses him terribly, and sometimes he's forgetful, but she's so important to him. It's not my job to care for him when he's sick, or make him breakfast on his first morning back after six months of being away. It's not my job to love him anymore.

But I desperately want it to be.

Harry must notice my smile fade, must notice the distant look in my eyes as I feel a thousand miles away, because within half a second he's in front of me, dropping to his knees and settling between my thighs. His worried eyes lock with mine as his hands reach out and cup my face. A tentative smile tugs at the right corner of his mouth, his gaze burning into me.

I scowl at him playfully, "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like a puppy that's been kicked. I'm fine."

Harry's smile widens the slightest bit, "There she is. My tough girl, who's never anything but fine because admitting she has feelings is absolutely unheard of."

I groan, leaning into Harry's palm, "I am fine. I mean, I'm here, I'm home - for the first time in a month, with the love of my life, so by all standards of the word, I should be fine... Right?"

My gaze falls to my lap, my bare legs peeking out from under the blanket. 'I'm fine' I tell myself over and over again. I have to be fine.

"But you're not," Harry presses, running a hand through my hair, his fingers catching in several knots.

Tears flood my eyes and spill onto my cheeks. I wipe furiously at them before realizing it's a lost cause and giving up. I drop my head into the crook of Harry's neck and cry, a proper cry that I suppose I've been suppressing for the past month.

"Why aren't I fine?" I sob, snuffling and weeping pathetically against his shirt.

Harry holds me so tight, clings to me as hard as I'm clinging to him. He whispers 'I love you' against my temple, which sets off another round of tears and soft whimpers. This goes on for what feels like an hour, until finally my sobs turn into hiccups and my tears have all dried up.

"You put all of your faith and trust in me, and I let you down. I made you feel like you were less important than you are. You're the most important, Annie. You're everything to me. I wasn't making you a priority, and that's such bull shit. And you know you should be mad at me, shouldn't take me back, but you want to because you love me. And that's why you're not fine." Harry's voice breaks and he takes a moment to clear his throat before continuing.

"I'm so sorry for putting you in that position, for making things so hard for you. I'm sorry loving me isn't easy, I'm sorry I'm not around enough. I'm just terribly sorry, but I'm also a selfish bastard and I don't want you to give up on me. I can't be without you; you're my soulmate, the one and only love of my life."

He finishes speaking and I'm stunned into silence. Harry's always been very open, very honest about how and what he's feeling. Always. But the rawness and vulnerability behind his words is beautiful. I knew he loved me, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have my doubts now and again, especially when things are hard. Never again will I question his love.

My hands release their grip on the lavender blanket, letting it fall in a heap around my hips.  I wrap myself around Harry, crawling into his arms and nuzzling even further into his neck. My lips find his pulse point, kissing the spot several times before returning to my previous sloth-like position.

It's been several moments of comfortable silence when I feel Harry's long arms grip my body a little tighter and lift. I'm being carried toward the bathroom, and I don't question why, just allow the man I love to take me wherever he wants.

When we reach the ensuite, Harry sets me down at my vanity, the countertop still cluttered with my things. Harry hasn't touched it since I "moved out", and for some reason, that causes my heart to flutter. I begin organizing the various lotions and makeup brushes that have somehow taken over the vanity table, only a small fraction of the white surface visible.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Harry move to the clawfoot bathtub and turn the left handle. Steam rises as it fills with scalding hot water. After it's filled to his liking, he pours in pomegranate scented bubbles - my favorite.

Harry comes back to where I'm seated and turns my chair around, stepping between my knees. His breathtaking eyes hold mine captive in their gaze, a brilliant smile hollowing two dimples deep in his cheeks. The skin by his eyes crinkles, three crows feet on the left, two on the right. My heart is beating frantically against my ribs.

The most beautiful human ever created is staring at me like I hold the key to world peace or something, and its unsettling in the best way. Harry extends his large hand for me to take, and I do, rising to my feet. Our bodies are so close that when either of us inhales, our chests brush together. It's so silent, I can hear Harry's heart beating, can feel my own pulse thumping obviously against my skin.

I'm paralyzed by his intense stare, unable to move, or think, or do anything but give myself to Harry. His hands slide up my sides, thumbs digging into my hips, and pulls my body flush against his. A soft gasp passes through my lips as my chin makes contact with Harry's chest. That lopsided grin I adore so much becomes present on his features, eliciting a smile of my own to break out.

Wordlessly, Harry slips my shirt over my head and chucks the garment over his shoulder. I giggle quietly, covering my mouth with my palm, my laugh growing louder as Harry struggles to rid himself of the oversized grey jumper he's wearing. His head gets stuck in the neck hole and he thrashes about, the arms of the sweater flapping wildly at his sides.

"Oh, love..." I'm so endeared, so in love that I'm about to burst, my heart swelling to fill up my entire chest cavity. Harry finally gets unstuck and huffs out an exasperated breath, dropping the garment onto the tile.

His cheeks flush with embarrassment when we make eye contact, knowing full well he's made a fool of himself when he was trying to have a sexy moment. "Let's pretend that didn't happen, yeah?" He rubs the back of his neck and reaches out for my hand, intertwining our fingers.

My feet move forward, closing the gap between us once more, our toes overlapping and our upper bodies pressing together perfectly. My free hand moves into Harry's curls as I rise up on my toes and press my lips to his. He releases his grip on my fingers and uses both hands to hoist me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders, holding him as close as possible.

"Never change," I whisper against his mouth, "You're still the clumsy idiot I fell in love with. You're my Harry. And I love you."

Harry smiles the brightest I've seen in ages, dimples cratering in his cheeks, eyes shining with unshed tears, "Baby..."

I press my forehead to his and caress his cheek, "I'm fine now."

And I really mean it.