A Dreamers Dream

Is it too late now to say sorry? The hotel, Mexico City, Mexico.

Maddie's' Perspective.

"What time is it?" Harry asks me groggily when he wakes up from his nap. He's spent the last hour peacefully snoozing away on my chest and as adorable as he's been, even snoring a little here and there due to his stuffy nose, I have to admit I am glad when he lifts his head to rub the sleep from his eyes, and I can inhale properly again.

"Nearly one o'clock. Are you feeling better?" I ask him, manoeuvring myself out from under his over-heated body and sitting up a little straighter on the bed.

"Yeah, I think so thanks. Hey, where'd you go?" He drawls in his low Northern accent, stretching his hands out to try and pull me back to him.

"Harry, I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry Trouble, just come here." He replies, stretching his arms wide to invite me to lay on him instead this time.

"That's not what I meant. I'm trying to say that I'm sorry for the other night, the way I acted, sending you away like that and everything since then. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry. I know it wasn't fair of me to leave you to worry, I was being selfish. I even knew at the time that I was, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. " I correct him, this apology has been a long time coming, and as much as I realise that I probably shouldn't be doing it when he's sick and half asleep, it's all I've been able to think about the entire time we've been laying here. Before much longer we'll have to head to the arena for his show tonight, and I need him to hear this before then.

Since this morning when I saw those fans going crazy and finally realised my true feelings towards the curly-haired brunette who's big green eyes are staring up at me in confusion as he sits himself up on the bed, crosses his legs and turns to face me, all I have wanted to do, no all I've needed to do, is to apologise for the way I've behaved over the past few days. Harry apologised to me for the way that he spoke to me that night, and he deserves an apology from me in return for my shitty behaviour.

"Trouble..." He breathes, his eyes are boring into mine, and it's almost too intense, every bone in my body is begging me to break our eye contact. Still, I force myself to continue to look at him.

"Silly girl. What on earth are you apologising for? You went through a horrific experience, for the second time! You were perfectly entitled to be selfish. In fact, I think sometimes, you could do with being a bit more selfish a little more often." He continues, and I feel tears pricking at the backs of my eyes at his words.

"I was just so scared that night, and I think I needed someone to aim my anger at, and after our argument. You just seemed like an easy target," I say apologetically, wanting him to understand, wanting to explain.

"I get that, I can't tell you how awful I feel about how I spoke to you Trouble. It was even worse after I witnessed my callousness towards you for myself." Harry says, and now it's my turn to look at him with confusion.

"Huh? For yourself? I don't understand."

"That's what I asked you to call me to talk about. You see that night after you asked me to leave, I couldn't just go back to my room and pretend that nothing had happened. I couldn't just sit there twiddling my thumbs after what that bastard did. So I went back to the bar, and it turns out, they had a security camera in the alley."

Every muscle in my body tenses at his words, said in such a calm, gentle way as if he knows how much it will hurt me to hear them and he's trying to soften the blow as much as possible. What did he see? One of his strong hands reaches across the small space between us and rest itself on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Did you... what did you see?" I ask him in a tiny voice, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Everything." He replies just as quietly, and my heart sinks to my sock covered feet. I begin shaking my head rapidly, and before I know it, I've jumped up off the bed, and I am pacing around the small room in agitation wringing my hands together, not wanting to believe him, not wanting to imagine Harry having to witness the hands of that evil bastard on me. Having to watch him kiss me. My heart feels like it's breaking, partly for myself as the memories of that night that I've been trying so hard not to think about flash past my eyes in rapid succession, and partly for Harry. Who has now pushed his tired, unwell body off of the soft mattress and joined me in the middle of the room. Gently he takes my hands in his and stands in front of me, forcing me to stand still as he rubs soothing circles across my knuckles which are itching to start punching inanimate objects.