Chiller (harry styles)

45: Umbrella

The car is left in the bushes a quarter mile from my house, and Harry carries me piggyback style the rest of the way. I try not to think about what I will do or see or find once we use the Past Dial, so I close my eyes and think of us now. The way his curly hair tickles my cheeks when we kiss, and the way he grips me so tightly when we fly I know he would rather lose his wings than let me fall. He loves me more than the blanket of night loves stars in the sky, and I love him back with just as much furiousity and passion. And soon I will know every aspect of our love, every moment of intimacy and anger. All of it. The thought makes me smile dearly at him, though he can't see me until we reach the front door and he puts me down inside.

"Maybe I've said it before, maybe not, but nice place." He compliments, staring at a large red fur rug on the floor.

"I'm going to go with I don't know, and it's made of real tiger fur. Father just had it dyed." I say.

Harry squints at the rug with disgust and awe on his face.

"Yeah, something else died, too." Is all he says, then wraps his arm around me shoulder and pulls me further into the house.

We enter the family room. It hasn't been much of a family room since my mother passed away, and father is never here much at all. There's a massive piano in the center and glass windows all around the depict an outside view not nature made.

Harry urges me to follow him deeper inside, but I can't. The memory I have is of us all, my whole family, laughing and enjoying my mother's beautiful piano skills. She played the softest melodies. I bet her sheet music is still in here, lying somewhere across the piano. He gives up after a moment and leads the way inside anyway. I follow him. It isn't as difficult as I fear. He makes most of my pain disappear anyway, and I feel a sense of joy and awe. The same black bench is in front of the piano. My mother used to sit on it. She used to play. I would dance to her songs, my little dress skirts flying around me like an open umbrella as I twirled.

"Take a seat. Watch the master work his magic." Harry tells me, and so I do.

The bench feels cold, but what feels even colder is watching Harry's fingers hover over the keys my mother used to touch. Then another thought occurs to me. It's an angry one. How could she never tell me about Demetria if she knew? I swallow hard.

"I'm afraid I've been too modest with my musical talents. I'm quite an expert on the piano, as well." Harry tells me, then stretches his long fingers out before playing then on the keys.

His fingers flow swiftly and sweetly, like a river slowly moving by. The room becomes filled with his impossibly beautiful melody. The music is so complex and luminous I want to smack him for not telling me he could play more than one instrument. And then he begins to sing, and I close my eyes. I am no longer a figure of the room. I am floating in the clouds, his wings taking me higher and higher to Heaven. But once we arrive I know everyone will accept us. There will be no argument. I open my eyes. And when I do I see his wings have spread a bit, and my arms are just as wide as wings are. We fly into each other. The music stops in the room, but not in our hearts. I hug him tightly, and kiss his lips. He pulls away, and places his cool lips delicately to my forehead. I feel so full of life with his breath mixing in mine. The feeling is like a human's first gasp of air after drowning for so long, or being denied an essential necessity and then finally being given what you deserve.

My hand move down to his chest, and he wraps me into himself. I become less strong, more limp. I feel lightheaded from feeling his lips and body so close to my own. He tilts his head down and kisses me harder. I steady myself to kiss him back. A hot rush of heat flows through me, and then I am on his lap while he is sitting on top of the piano. We kiss harder, deeper, longer.