Hidden [h.s]

SEVENTY-SIX

Harry runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath. I watch him intently, not having a clue what to expect.

The photobooth is crammed, and Harry's knee touches mine as we sit on the little bench. The screen lights up in front of us, inviting us to pick an effect and push start, but taking pictures seems to be the last of our worries at the moment.

Seeing Harry act as he did throws me off a little. I've never truly seen a vulnerable, emotional side of Harry. And although it breaks my heart to see him wipe tears away, another part of me wants to see this side of him, to know every aspect of it.

"Now, where did I leave off."

I look at my hands folded in my lap, not answering.

I feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to say something but I never do.

"Ah, yes. When I was finally discharged from the hospital."

He goes on as if I offered him an answer, and I see the emotion and vulnerability I experienced from him moments ago quickly fade away.

"Gemma was still staying with me at that point, and she told me she knew you had gone to New York. That just confirmed what I already knew. I went into this state of numbness after that, knowing I had made you promise me to stay hidden, but in all honestly, I had never expected to live."

Harry shifts lightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Gemma moved out around March, getting an apartment not far from mine and yours, and she's been getting back into design. Someone in the same business as Crystal met her at the party and offered her a job interview, so there's that."

"As for me, I went on with my life. Except, it wasn't really my life anymore. I did the same things I did before we met, thinking you were better off without me in NYC. I went to work every day and did my job, I mailed you your paychecks and I slept alone. But things were so obviously different. I had never realized just how boring I was before I was with you."

I swallow, daring to look up from my lap.

"I did a lot of thinking. Too much thinking, probably. I thought about all the things I said to you the night of the party, and all the things you said to me. I thought about how I swore I'd keep you safe, and you were safe in New York. I always thought about the promise I made you, about seeing you again. I kept trying to figure out how to keep both promises, but I couldn't."

" You see, ever since the first night you had run-in with Wolfe, when Niall and Louis stopped you on the street, this paranoia has built inside of me. It was small at first, easy to ignore. But as time went on and I watched you immerse yourself in more and more danger before my very eyes, and because of me, no less; it grew until it was too much for me to handle. It consumed me the night of the party, when I told you to stay hidden. It was terrifying and agonizing, but I had thought I was going to die that night, so I assumed that the danger you were in would erase with my death."

Hearing Harry speak of his proposed death makes my stomach churn.

"Although Wolfe Enterprise's was the only dangerous shit I was involved with, after the party I still believed I was a threat to you. I knew in a logical part of my brain that I wasn't, and you'd be fine, but the irrational remnants of my paranoia got the best of me. I truly thought if I were to come after you and be with you again, I would endanger you again, and just thinking of that tore me apart. It was all in my head, all psychological. It may be the worst excuse in this whole damn universe, but I can't give you a better one. It was me against my mind, and for a while there, it seem like my mind was winning."

"Why did you come after me now?" I speak for the first time since we've been in the photobooth.

" I'm getting to that."

I nod.

"So as the months dragged on, I felt myself becoming more and more numb until I was sure if I set my hand on a hot stove I wouldn't feel it. I was lonely, even though I frequently visited Gemma and saw everyone at work everyday. I'd sit on my couch and watch television, but I wouldn't even pay attention to the show because my mind will go ballistic. I had nightmares most every night, real bad ones. Sometimes..." Harry shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh.

"Sometimes what?"

He looks at me briefly before continuing. "Sometimes I'd wake up from a nightmare at like 1 a.m., and I'd be so shaken up that I dragged myself into your apartment and sleep there the rest of the night. It's pathetic, I know. But it gave me some sense of security and your pillows still smelled like you, so..."

I bite my lip to keep from crying and smiling at the same time. "You think that's pathetic? I would call your voicemail just to hear your voice."

He half Smiles. "Probably shouldn't have changed my number, eh?"

" Why did you change it?"

"Court orders. Since I was near death because of Wolfe, they wanted me to change it in case they're still anyone out there in the shriveling remnants of the corporation."

"Then why did I always get your voicemail?"

"I guess the old number just hasn't been taken yet. It's odd that it would still have my voicemail, though. I'll call the phone company about it."

"Oh."

Harry's jaw clenches and he looks straight ahead before going on. "Anyways, over time, Gemma and Violet began trying to get my ass out of the house once in awhile to go to a bar or something, but I never wanted to go. God, it was so dull. I hardly got sleep, I didn't have much of an appetite, and I just felt like shit all the time. Roughest time of my life, after my mother's death."

"I could have really used my mother in those months. You know, just to talk to someone. She was always my listening ear, I guess. I thought about her a lot too, the nights that I'd lay awake. I thought about a lot of things."

"In February, Zayn and Perrie announced their engagement. It kind of stung, if I'm honest. I was jealous that they got to end up together and we didn't. But I didn't say anything, because Zayn's my friend and they're nice together, I suppose. I told Zayn I didn't think I will be able to make it to the wedding, and he begged and begged to me to come. He said it wouldn't be the same without me, and he said there was a large chance you might attend, too. I guess that's what made me come, in the end."

" You have to understand, I never wanted to put you through any pain of any kind by staying away. And I knew you didn't come looking for me because I told you not to, and I was glad that you listened to me for once, but at the same time I was also upset. I hated the fact that you thought I was dead, but the phrase that kept repeating in my head was 'it will keep her safe.' "

"I became obsessed, completely obsessed with keeping you safe. It was this contaminated idea in my mind that dictated if I were to go anywhere near you, I'd endangered you again. It scared the shit out of me. I couldn't think of anything but keeping you safe for a long time, it controlled me. I wrote extra letters to you, and then ended up tearing them out of my journal because I was angry with myself for being so careless when we first met. Of course, I ended up mailing those letters to you later, but I guess they got water damaged, as you said. I couldn't stop thinking that if I had been more careful, none of this shit with Wolfe would have happened. For a while there, it really felt as if I was going insane."

I stare at Harry, my jaw locked. I had never considered the psychological toll any of this took on Harry-I suppose it took some toll on me, too.

"I'm sorry," Harry says. " I should have called you the day I got out of the hospital and told you I was alright. But I had to keep you safe."

"I get it," I say, shaking my head as tears spring to my eyes. "I get it, I do. I understand your mind consumed you, and that you thought too much. But don't you think, after all of this, it's time for me to keep you safe?"

"Safe from what?"

"Yourself"

Harry looks down and I see his eyes glazing over again. "You're right," he says, his voice surprisingly steady. "You're right."

I shake my head again. "You have no idea," I say tears rolling down my cheeks. "The agony I've been through thinking you were dead."

Harry swallows, eyes trailing over my face.

"I had nightmares too, these terrible, terrifying nightmares. It was always the same, too. We'd be at some different location, completely content, and out of nowhere a bullet would fly at you and I'd be seeing the same thing in my dream that I saw the night you were shot." I swallow, wiping tears away. "And I wanted to go back to Portland, to see if you were really gone but I couldn't do it. I was still in shock, complete shock at what happened and I knew if you were alive you'd want me to keep my promise. I knew it was just a stupid promise, they're all stupid promises. I mean, why did we even make them, when we're sitting right here breaking them now?"

"Maybe they were made to be broken."

"Then why did we keep them so long?"

"Wish I knew."

I take a long, deep breath. I feel a bit at ease after hearing the extent of Harry's story.

I suddenly am aware of our proximity, the air in the small photobooth full of Harry's sweet spearmint-and-cologne scent. I've been dying to smell it again, and here I am, sitting next to him like we're strangers

Months ago, I would have thought I would tackle Harry to the ground if I found out he was alive. But now that it's really happened, I've felt so many emotions that I can barely remember how to move. I know I'm no longer the Rose that was dragged away from Harry on December twentieth; but one thing has not changed, and that's how much I'm in love with Harry.

I scoot closer to him and wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his chest. He responds immediately, strong arms pulling me as close can be. I hear his heart beating in his chest and I'm so glad that it is. His chin rests on the top of my head and I shut my eyes, the soft white fabric of his shirt against my cheek.

"I missed your birthday," I say into his shirt. "I thought about it, on February first, I knew it was your birthday and it hit me hard. I thought about how we would have gone out to dinner or something, and I would have tried to make cake but it would have seemed like shit next to yours. And I would have gotten you some silly gift that you secretly loved, like how you got me pens. And I would have put twenty five candles in the cake, just to make you feel old and I'd tease you how you were five years away from thirty and you'd tease me back saying I was six years away from thirty and we'd end up laughing at each other all over again." I take a shaky breath.

Harry's fingers run gently through my hair.

"I missed Christmas with you." Harry says quietly. "And New Year's. I thought about how I would have gone to New York with you to meet your family, and you'd drag me all around the city like we were tourists. There'd have been snow and I would have complained, and you would have said something sassy back to me. And Valentine's Day. I would have taken you to the zoo again, or something dump like that, I don't know. I've always been shit at romance."

"You're not shit at romance," I scoff, still leaning against his chest. "You're the best at romance."

"Maybe we're both shit at romance."

"Probably."

I feel Harry chuckle lightly, his deep laugh vibrating through his chest.

"And you know what," Harry says. "My birthday wasn't even that great, anyway."

"I'm sure it was. I bet Gemma did something."

"She did, but it wasn't even half of what you would have done."

"Please. You did all this caring stuff for my birthday, and I thought you were dead on yours."

"There's always next year."

"But we'll never get this year back."

Harry pulls away from me, looking down into my eyes. "I think that's just something you and I will have to get used to, Rosalie."