My friendship for Harry is laying on green grass on a hazy summer afternoon, hot chocolate in winter and swing sets at the park... But my love for Harry is poetry written by hand in leather journals, dried flowers pressed into novels and open button...
"We're here." I hear the faint voice say as a finger moves my hair from my face to behind my ear. I look around me and notice we're landed in Manchester airport. I scratch at my hair and wipe away at my eyes as I look at Harry whose getting up and taking our bags from the upper luggage compartment and I open the window, it is sinking in that we're home for Christmas.
"Holy shit." I say a little louder than what I wanted too, an elderly couple looking at me with furrowed brows.
"Sorry!" I whisper shout raising my hand and stumbling as I get up. Harry laughs as he slings his bag over his shoulder and takes my backpack in his hands.
"I can take that." I say offering my hand.
"No, you look like the walking dead and you just slept for ten hours. Probably not a good idea." He says walking down the aisle of the airport, and I shake my head laughing.
"There's gonna be paparazzi, isn't there?" I ask nervously as we walk down the terminal and he doesn't say anything, rather he smiles and nods. I throw my hoodie over my face, concealing it from the world around me as I notice a group of tall muscular men approaching us. Harry takes my hand and reassures me that they're just bodyguards. Does he always travel with bodyguards?
The walk through the airport to our hire car was painful to say the least. He and I walked close to one another after collecting our suitcases, but something felt off, the moment he saw a camera his hand unlatched from my own. Untangling our fingers with a huff, pushing his hair back and out of his face.
The drive home was slightly awkward, I think he realised I picked up on his body language. But nevertheless, I won't let this trip go to waste, it's not like last time. This time he and I are on really good terms and we're establishing our relationship as something more than friends. Maybe being home we can unravel some of the intricate details. We pull into the driveway of my house; Christmas is at ours this year. I look at the house and notice Dad's grown ferns across the house. Mum would love it. Being home always brings back memories of her.
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"Fuckface!" Gemma says as she runs from out the front door and crashes onto Harry, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Hey Gemma." He says softly as he hugs her back.
"And you! Ahh how's the big life Tilly?" She asks as she jumps on my back and I run around with her as we shout and laugh. Gemma jumps off my back, planting her feet in the ground as she throws her hands on her hips.
"Something is different here... Between you two." She says raising an eyebrow and I look to Harry who quickly turns to the car and gets out our suitcases and luggage. I look back to Gemma and shrug my shoulders as she gives me a devilish smirk.
Then I see him. Dad. Followed by Anne who has a glass of wine in her hand.
"Dad!" I say as I run past Gemma and crash into him. I wrap my arms around him and smile, inhaling deeply as I smell the scent of Christmas biscuits that linger from him. I feel overwhelmed as I hug him. I've missed him so much; his laugh makes me feel overcome with pure happiness and I pull him in tighter.
