Stage Lights || H.S.

the old t-shirt

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time while tying my hair back. I had brought enough clothes to last me a week, but wearing anything that belonged to Harry felt more right. It was a way to memorize his smell because I knew I was going to miss it. I hadn't had enough of him, we hadn't had a fair shot, a fair try to make things right. We were trying to and I knew -or hoped- we could, but I didn't know where we were going to stand with him leaving. We never talked about it.

So now I wore one of his old t-shirts. I knew it was old because he had gotten it out of his closet here in London, it felt soft on my skin, baggy on my body. I left the bathroom and into his bedroom. It was much different than his Los Angeles' one. That one was bright, minimalistic with a TV, a bed, two nightstands and a glass wall that showed off the incredible view of the city.

This bedroom didn't have quite the view, the curtains were closed and I knew all you could've seen was an empty street. Everything was grey toned and felt cozy, the bed was now done from the morning, our bags on a corner keeping the room neat.

I left the bedroom into the hallway of the unfamiliar house. I walked past closed doors and down the stairs and stopped looking when I found him sitting in the living room. The grey couch looked way too big with only him sitting on the edge, the TV was on but on mute, the glass door that led to the backyard displayed the dark night.

He looked up from his phone and laid his eyes on me. "I thought that shirt from years ago would fit you better. I'm sorry."

"It's perfect. Don't worry."

I could sense his nervousness from across the room. The small smile he gave me as I made my way to one of the chairs next to him. He too had changed into something comfortable, a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt.

"I had an amazing day today, Harry." He put his phone down, giving me all the attention at that moment. His eyes searched my face making my cheeks burn, I wondered what shade of red they turned. "What's wrong?"

"My mum's texting me." He cleared his throat. "She wants us to go up to Holmes Chapel for a day or two."

"What did you say to her?"

"That I was going to run the idea through you. You know, we don't have to, I mean--" He shook his head. "It's a small town, not much to do anyways, I'm sure you'll have more fun in London, so-- Yeah. We don't really have to."

"Harry--"

"I haven't been there since Robin passed away." He finally said, his shoulders hanging low.

I moved from the chair to the couch. My hands involuntarily made their way up to his neck, forcing him to look at me. His eyes were hollow, but still the greenest and most beautiful I've ever seen.

"Why don't you sleep on it? You have tomorrow to think about it. You can think about it." His palm found my naked thigh, his finger rubbing on my skin softly. "I'd love to go to your hometown if that's what you want. And I'd love to stay and hang around London if that's what you want. No matter what you decide, I'll be there with you."

"I hope you're fine with hanging out with my sister tomorrow. She's set on meeting you." I nodded. "She'll try to embarrass me, don't believe on everything she says."

I laughed. "I bet she's great."

I watched his face expression change and ease. I dropped my hand to his and he played with my fingers, leaning back on the couch.

"She's dating this guy, Michael, and before they really started seeing each other they went on a date to one of our--" He stopped for a second to correct himself. "One Direction's concerts, and I completely forgot it was being recorded for iTunes and called them out for the whole world to see it." I giggled. "She'll never forgive me for that."