forget me not

ten (edited)

"harry?" i ask, keeping my gaze up at the sky. "yeah?" he responds, turning his head so his gaze meets my check. we're at the park in the small town i grew up and moved away from, laying on the grass and staring up at the clouds.

"we need to take pictures, you know... before we-" "you don't have to say it." he interrupts quietly. "lots of pictures, for you to keep. so you won't completely forget about me." i tell him. he stays silent.

"you can keep them in a box. you don't have to look at them all the time... i don't want you to make yourself miserable. i just want to know that i still have a place in your new life." i explain.

"you know i'd never forget about you bea. i know that's what you're getting at but i know that you know, deep down, that i'll never forget about you. ever. me forgetting is not the problem." he tells me.

i turn my head and feel the cold grass on my cheek when my eyes meet his. "we can take photos every day leading up to it, we can do polaroids so you won't have to worry about accidentally deleting them or loosing your phone or something." i continue.

wait a minute. this is a dream. this isn't real. harry's hand just made its way onto my cheek and i cant feel it. and i'm beginning to hear noises in the kitchen. this is not just a regular dream though. i think i've had it before and i just can't remember. there's a strong sense of deja vu-

my thoughts are interrupted by me jolting awake in bed due to the sound of silverware accidentally hitting the floor. the sun doesn't sting my eyes like you'd expect. my room is dull and cold. it's saturday morning, and gemma's usually gone until night time on sundays, so the only person that could be in the kitchen would be.... harry.

out of sheer curiosity i slip out of bed and put on a pair of sleep shorts (i'd rather not walk out in just my tank top and humiliate myself) and walk towards my door to see what harry is up to.

i make my way down the hallway and hear him humming 'girl crush', a song he covered at the show last night. he's standing with his back to me, facing the stove in the same sweatpants as last night, and to my delight, still shirtless.

"yeah cuz' maybe then, she'd want me just as much." i sing quietly behind him. "good morning. you scared the crap out of me but good morning just the same." he says with a chuckle, turning to face me with a plate full of food.

chocolate chip pancakes with strawberry syrup. slightly weird, but my guilty pleasure. he holds the plate out for me and i look down at it. "how did you know?" i ask him. his face crinkles up awkwardly before answering.

"uh, well, gemma told me it was your favorite... and you had the ingredients so i thought it might make me a better house guest." he explains as i take the plate from his hands. "thank you." i say, despite knowing (based on my witches intuition) that it was a lie.

even if i wasn't a witch i would've seem right through him because of the way he was tripping over his own tongue. not to mention, i've never told gemma that this is my favorite food. i can't remember who i've told, but i know that it wasn't her.

(605 words)