How It's Going To Be [h.s.]

Chapter 73

{Kate's Point of View}

The numbers on the doors of the hotel rooms got higher as I went down the corridor. I carried the key card issued to me by the front desk when I arrived. To my surprise, my name was already added to Harry's reservation. According to the young woman working the front desk, Harry had called down and added my name to his reservation when he checked in. Apparently the open invitation I had discovered with security at the stadium was never just for One Direction events, but for any moment with Harry. I was given a key and told the room was located on the twelfth floor. As I walked, I watched for room 1216. At the end of the corridor, I found it.

I could hear my heartbeat everywhere. It was so loud that it had to be coming from the sky because a thunderous, deafening beat couldn't possibly be coming from my chest. I was undeniably nervous. The last time I had seen Harry, I had abandoned him in the rain after he made the effort to fly to my home and comfort me when I was upset over my grandfather's health. I just prayed Harry wouldn't show me the same indecency after I flew halfway around the world to comfort him.

The key slipped into the lock and the small light flashed green. The lock on the door audibly clicked and the handle turned down easily. I entered the hotel room and immediately wanted to turn and escape back to the corridor, to the street, to the airport, and back to London. The room was smaller than most suites the boys stayed in. The space was a mess; shoes and clothes were tossed haphazardly around coating the floor and furniture in Saint Laurent. There was a faint pungent odor that made me cringe. I thought the room was vacant until I saw Harry lying in the bed.

Careful not to trip over one of his boots, I approached Harry's bed. His bedside table was loaded with untouched plates of food, glasses of water, and bottles of medications. His hair was matted from sleep. The back of his grey t-shirt was damp between his shoulder blades from sweat. His breathing was shallow in his sleep. I stopped at the foot of his bed and resisted the urge to pull open the curtains and take in the nighttime view of the city and surrounding water down below. I looked over at his sleeping frame. He was there, but he wasn't there.

Harry's sleep was fitful. He lay on his side, but shifted his legs around repeatedly. His hands clenched and unclenched periodically in a strange rhythm. His brow creased in tension. His lips formed a tight line as if he were restraining himself from crying out. I wondered what was plaguing him, torturing him. I wondered how long his sleep had been this way. I wondered if it was because his body was hurting or if his heart was hurting.

After several long minutes of watching Harry's body fighting him, I reached out. I touched Harry's upper arm and watched his hardened face relax. His fists unclenched and the crease in his brow disappeared. I turned on the bedside lamp and saw just how pale his face appeared in the light. His eyes blinked once, twice, three times. Finally, he saw me. Harry allowed his lips to twitch at the ends enough to form a small smile for me. "An angel," he whispered, shifting from his side to his back.

"No," I said too harshly. "It's just me."

"Are you really here?" Harry rubbed his tired eyes.

I touched my favorite tattoo on his arm, the anatomical heart. His skin was too warm and a thin layer of sweat was sticking to him. "I really am."

Our eyes stared into each other for a few silent seconds. Sensations poured from one person to the other. I could feel his energy, his goodness, just as strongly as ever. The connection that I assumed to be dismembered was instantly restored. It was as if I could feel his emotions and he could feel mine. For the first time in a long time, I felt the desire to kiss him.