Hidden [h.s]

EPILOGUE

The day is perfect.

Bright rays of sunlight pierce through fluffy white clouds and the air is warm on my skin. Nerves and excitement flutter within me as I stand next to my father, waiting for the ceremony to commence.

Violins begin to play and I watch Violet, Elizabeth, Gemma, and Perrie walk down the aisle, their dresses pale pink and their flowers light purple. I see my mother and some of my old friends sitting in the rows, along with many of my coworkers.

I can't see him from here, but I know he's up there, waiting for me. I suppress a smile as my Father looks down at, pride in his eyes.

"Ready?" He asks, pulling my arm through his.

I nod, smiling. "Ready as I'll ever be."

A new tune begins on the violins, and my father and I stand at the beginning of the aisle. Everyone rises as we slowly make our way down the aisle, rose petals strew on the ground where we walk.

I see the smiles on everyone's faces, my mother beaming the widest. I look at all of the best men, standing in their black suits. Niall, Ed, Zayn, Liam, Louis stand with their hands clasped in front of them, looking proud. They all smile and nod to me as my father and I stop to the altar.

My eyes move to Harry.

He looks like an angel, his pink lips up in a radiant smile. His eyes seem to drink me in as he offers me his hand.

I look at my father, who leans down and kisses my cheek before nodding to Harry.

"Take care of her," my father says quietly to Harry.

"I always will."

My father nods to Harry, giving him a proud slap on the back before going to sit beside my mother.

My fingers lace through Harry's as I stand across from him, my heart beating fast. He wears a black tie, just like he knows I've always liked.

"You may be seated," the minister says and everyone sits back in their seats, a hush falling over the room.

I'm too excited and nervous to pay much attention to what the minister says, my eyes not leaving those of Harry. He smiles back at me, his dimples carving into his flushed cheeks.

"Rose and Harry, you have prepared vows, I believe,"

I turn to receive the small slip of paper from Elizabeth when my eye catches on someone standing at the end of the aisle.

Black suit, menacing smirk, dark eyes, scarred face.

Alec winks at me, reaching into his jacket.

My throat is dry and I can't speak or move, my limbs frozen in place.

He points the silver pistol at the altar, but it is unclear who he is aiming at. I want to scream and do something, anything, but I can't. I hear the gun cock and a bang, screams and uproar filling the room.

But when I look at Harry, he's looking at me, his eyes wide and urgent, his voice calling out my name. He's not hurt.

I look down at myself, just in time to see my white wedding dress stain with blood; the red spreading from my abdomen to cover the entire dress, and the pure white turns to deathly crismon.

"Rose!"

I jerk awake, bolting up in bed. I gasp for air, trying to figure out where I am. The familiar surroundings of my room fall into place as the dream still rages in my mind.

Alec shot me this time, not Harry. What does that mean?

"Rose."

I feel a gentle touch on my face as tears are wiped from my cheeks and I look over into the wide green eyes of Harry.

"Bad one tonight, huh?"

I nod, more tears raining down my cheeks. He sighs, pulling me into an embrace and kissing my forehead.

"Which one was it?"

I tell him about the dream, trying to stop my crying as he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, brow furrowed.

"Rosie," he says once I'm done, his hand reaching up to stroke my cheek softly. My breathing is still uneven as I try to collect myself.

"I'm going to get some water," i tell him and he nods, his eyes still on me as I slip out of bed, taking a breath.

I turn on the light in the kitchen, the clock on the stove reading 1:19 a.m.

The wedding nightmares are always the worst, but they don't occur as often. This is the first dream I've had where Alec shot me instead of Harry, and it's unnerving, to say the least.

It's been two months since I got back to Portland, and Harry and I have quickly discovered the pattern of our nightmares. Mine are more frequent, happening multiple times a week around one in the morning. Some of them are recurring, such as the wedding one, but others are completely new. I always tell Harry about my nightmares, and he always tells me his. We've concluded that we're experiencing a form of post traumatic stress disorder, due to the night Harry got shot. It's obviously not as severe as it could be, but the nightmares aren't pleasant.

Harry's nightmares are always worse, though. They happen less often than mine, only occurring once a week or so, but when they do, they're bad. Harry is such a controlled person, and when he wakes up in the night yelling, I see his see his self control slip. It's scary for me to see him like that. Unlike myself, he always has the same nightmare. He described it to be more of a subconscious flashback, to the night of the party when Zayn and Violet were pulling me away.

Oddly enough, Harry and I never have nightmares happen more towards 3 a.m.,and when I wake him up from them, it takes him a good minute to collect himself. Sometimes, when his eyes snap open, it looks like he doesn't know who I am for a moment before he crumbles into my arms. I hate it when Harry has nightmares, I hate it.

"You okay?"

Harry leans against the door frame to my bedroom, his hair messy and his arms crossed over his chest.

It takes me a second to realize what he's talking about, and when I look down at the cup I'm trying to fill with water, I see that my hands are shaking. I set the cup down on the counter and take a breath as Harry walks over, taking the cup and turning on the faucet, still looking at me.

I nod thanks to him as I bring the cup to my lips, the cool water soothing me slightly as it slides down my throat, but not by much.

"That one really shook you up, didn't it?" Harry's voice is sympathetic as I set my now empty cup in the sink.

"I've never had one where it was like that," I say, my voice in steady. "I don't know why it was different this time."

I feel his hand touch mine and I reach for it, squeezing it tightly.

"Let's go back to bed, alright?"

I nod and follow him back to my room, sliding into bed beside him.

He switches on the television and pulls up the DVR as I settle next to him,
my head resting on his chest.

"What will it be?" I feel his voice vibrate through his chest as he speaks. "The office or the Big Bang Theory?"

I let out a breath. "You choose."

"I think we both know what I'll choose."

I laugh lightly and he does too, selecting an episode of the Office. I try to push images of my dream from my thoughts, but the red wedding dress seems to be branded in my mind.

"What do you think it meant?" I whisper as the characters move across the screen.

"I don't know," he says honestly. "What does any of it mean?"

"I wish it'd go away."

"I know. I do too."

I run my fingers down his arm until I find his tattoo of the rose, my digits moving over it gently.

"Do you think... it could be like the dreams I had before the party, that kind of came true?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"What if something happens, were we to ever get married?"

"Alec is in jail, and Wolfe Enterprises no longer exists."

Harry moves me so he can look into my eyes. "And who said anything about getting married?" A smirk crosses his face.

I blush. "It was my dream, I don't know. Do you think we'll ever get married?"

Harry laughs, has his hand reaching up to play with my hair. "At least take me out to dinner first."

"I've taken you out to dinner plenty, excuse you."

We're both laughing now as he hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me back to him, my face nuzzling into his neck. He smells like sleep and spearmint, my all time favorite combination.

"I do think we'd have a sick wedding, though."

I let out a laugh onto his skin. "How do you figure?"

"We'd have a chocolate fountain. We win."

"But those can be so messy."

"Are you seriously debating with me about a chocolate fountain? Have you gone mental?"

It's so comforting that Harry always manages to lighten the mood after I have nightmares. I love him for that.

"If you feel so strongly, I guess we can have a chocolate fountain," I sigh humorously.

"You sound so reluctant, Rosalie."

I laugh.

"I don't know if I can be with someone who isn't completely obsessed with chocolate fountains. I think we've got to break up, Rosie." I let out a laugh, and so does he.

"But I know where you keep your sneakers."

"Point taken, alright, let's get back together."

I laugh as he leans down to kiss me, a smile already present on his lips.

"I love you," I reply, pushing a stray curl out of his eyes.

Harry and I watch TV for another half hour before going back to sleep, the sound of Harry's steady breathing calming me. Remnants of my nightmare threaten to spill back into my mind, but I focus on the sound of our breathing together.

I think of all that's happened since I met Harry almost one year ago. I've felt so many feelings and emotions that I never had before, and felt pain that I didn't know was possible. I've changed so much, all because I moved into the apartment of the girl Harry previously loved.

I've come to realize that my fear of being alone is only present without Harry. I'm not afraid of being alone, I'm just afraid of what I am without him, and I don't like that person at all. I hope I never have to meet that lonely mutter person.

I know that version of myself will always live inside of me, though. Almost like a demon on my shoulder, a devil in my conscious.

But now, I look over at Harry, who is sound asleep. He has an arm draped around me, his face relaxed and his breathing steady.

And I feel myself relax, my mind resting from its furious thinking.

I do not know what will happen from here. I can hope our lives will run smoothly, our future free from the danger we experienced this past year. I don't know what will happen when Alec gets out of jail, if he ever does. I don't know if we'll never be in danger again, but I do know one thing for sure.

As long as I have Harry, I will never feel alone again.

I trace my fingers over the outline of his pink lips and his eyes blink open, causing me to draw back.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," I whisper.

"It's alright. Are you ok?"

"Yeah. just can't sleep."

"Oh."

He shifts so that he's on his back, rubbing his eyes like a child. He looks over at me, a sleepy smile crossing his face.

"I have an idea," he says.

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

The teasing smirk that I've learned to love paints onto his lips, his eyes shining brightly even in the dark of the room.

"Want to play twenty one questions?"

The end.