Retrouvailles

“You’re simultaneously the easiest and hardest person to read, you know that?”

Harry licked his lips, failing to hide his smile as his avocado eyes flicked up to meet mine. We were sat on his bed facing one another, my legs criss-crossed and his stretched out on either side of me. I rumpled up my jumper and discarded it on the floor where I’d probably forget about it later, then folded my hands in my lap to stop from fidgeting so much.

“You keep smiling but I have no idea what you’re thinking,” I continued, and Harry’s dimples deepened when he finally gave into a full-blown grin. “Just — please be serious for a second, yeah?”

Harry nodded obediently, arranging his expression into a solemn one. “Am I allowed to smile if you say something really cheesy?”

I rolled my eyes, not answering him. “Dating you is the most frustrating, stressful, exhausting, and annoying things I’ve ever done. But it’s also the happiest I’ve ever been, and I think that I’ve forgotten that in these last two months. I’ve been thinking too much about other people and how they analyze every single thing that you do and, since we’ve been together, everything that I do as well. I spend so much time observing and trying to understand people I don’t even know and the fact that I’m so good at it is what makes dating you that much harder.

“I can’t ignore the stuff that’s written about me or the looks I get when we’re together because then I start being me and thinking too much about them and their opinions. I know that what other people say shouldn’t bother me, because you keep telling me that it doesn’t matter, but I’ve been ignoring that advice for months now. When I told you that the stress I’ve been having has nothing to do with you I wasn’t lying, but I didn’t really tell you the truth either. The problem I’ve been having is that I haven’t been thinking about how I feel, because I get so caught up in everyone else’s thoughts and opinions and forget what’s going on in my own head. I tried to distract myself with work but that just made me even more tired, and then with more time off I didn’t have anything to distract me anymore.

“So, what I’ve been doing for the last few hours is thinking about me and you and pushing all that other stuff out. I’m nowhere near figuring out everything, that’s probably going to take a lot longer, but I do know one thing.”

I had to stop and take a breath. My eyes hadn’t left Harry’s the whole time I’d been talking, and he’d maintained a thoughtful look throughout my speech. I reached up to smooth the crease between his eyebrows and ran my thumb over his cheekbone, causing his eyes to flutter shut. Harry hummed, and we let the moment linger for a little while longer, but then he covered my hand with his larger one and gazed intensely into my eyes.

“You didn’t finish,” he murmured, his voice thick.

“When can I move in?”

It took a moment for Harry to register what I’d said, but suddenly he broke out into a dazzling smile. His eyes searched my face for some sort of confirmation that this wasn’t a joke. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You always think the worst.”

“I got used to the worst happening,” he replied. “I’ve grown to expect it.”

“Well, stop. It’s annoying.”

“Sorry.”

I rearranged myself so that I knelt in front of him, and brought both hands up to cup his face. Harry’s gaze was unwavering and his smile soft, the corner of his mouth twitching. Harry was never completely still, there was always a muscle jumping somewhere in his body. Sometimes in his jaw or his hands, and he was constantly shuffling his feet. It was a tick I’d noticed almost immediately upon meeting him, but I never really paid much attention to it until now.

“Do you ever sit still?” I asked, now that the thought was foremost on my mind.

“I am sitting still,” he said. “I thought you were going to kiss me. Is that not happening now?”

I ignored the last part. “No you aren’t. You’re twitching.”

I poked the corner of his mouth just to prove my point. Harry gave me a dry look, obviously put off by the fact that I hadn’t kissed him. “And?”

“Dunno, I just noticed it.”

“You just noticed it?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Well, not just. I was going to kiss you, then your mouth twitched.”

“You pay way too close attention, Zola,” Harry sighed, and moved my hands from his cheeks to his neck. Then he kissed me softly, his lips just brushing over mine. “All the little things get into your head and you can’t let go of them.”

“Isn’t that one of your songs?”

He pulled away entirely, his expression unamused. “Not funny.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“Right, because I’m the funny one in this relationship.”

“We all know that’s not true.”

“Oi! I’m hilarious.”

“Hilarious looking, maybe.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at me, but couldn’t fight the grin from spreading across his lips. “But seriously, you need to start compartmentalizing your brain or something. You think too much.”

“It’s in my nature.”

“And thinking to worst in every situation is mine. We both need to learn.”

“And you think moving in together is going to help?”

“It’s an added bonus. Besides, you already said yes, so there’s no backing out now.”

“True,” I agreed. Harry’s hands slipped around my waist, and he leaned forward to nudge his nose against mine. “But you aren’t allowed to fire your maid when I move in. I’m not going to clean this place all by myself, and she makes a fantastic cup of tea.”

“Is that one of your terms?”

“One of many.”

“Do you have a list? We may have to discuss this in more detail.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m more stubborn than you are, mate. Don’t think you’re going to get anything off that list.”

Harry smirked. “I knew there was a list.”

“As soon as I’ve written it down I’ll have my people contact your people.”

“I have more people than you do.”

“But your people like me better.”

“Not as much as I like you,” Harry said, his voice suddenly soft. “Nobody likes you as much as I like you.”

“How much is that?”

“At the moment it’s exponential.”

“Increasing at a rapid rate?”

Harry nodded.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” I informed him.

“Thanks for the warning.”

There was still a faint taste of alcohol on his tongue, though its effects had disappeared. It didn’t take long for our clothes to be thrown to the floor, and soon Harry was hovering above me, his eyes dark. He licked his lips before kissing me again, one hand hooking my leg around his waist. He rolled his hips against mine, dragging his lips across my jaw to the sensitive spot below my ear.

Our bodies moved in synchronization, having memorized every inch of each other’s skin. Everything was Harry, and I forgot about the world for a few incredible moments. He kissed the marks he’d left on my neck and collarbones when we were finished, then pulled me into his side and fixed the sheet over our bodies. I traced the lines inked into his skin with my fingertip, glancing up at Harry every so often.

His face was calm and his eyes shut, but I knew by the way his heartbeat picked up when my finger trailed down his chest that he wasn’t asleep.

“I like you too,” I whispered. His peaceful expression broke when he grinned.

| | |

“I regret this decision already,” I groaned, covering my face with both hands.

Harry stood in the middle of the living room without a shirt on, hands on his hips. He’d rearranged the furniture six times in the last hour, never satisfied with the way it looked. My assumption that Gran’s armchair wouldn’t work with Harry’s furniture was correct, but we both liked it too much for it to be anywhere else.

“I refuse to be beaten by inanimate objects.”

And I didn’t want to help him anymore, so I walked over to the couch and collapsed onto it face first. Harry snorted, and I could hear him shuffling around. “What are you doing now?” I asked, not bothering to look.

“You brought your cricket bat?” he asked, his voice distant. I sat up properly and glanced over the back of the couch just in time to see Harry wandering back in holding my cricket bat, his eyebrows raised. “I have a security system, y’know. And also I could beat up intruders.”

“The only intruders would be teenage girls who want to steal your pants,” I pointed out, and Harry rolled his eyes. “ Besides, I wasn’t just going to leave it at my flat. It has sentimental value.”

“I suppose I can use it to threaten Niall so he won’t spill barbecue sauce on the couch again,” Harry said contemplatively. He tested the weight of the bat, then swung it experimentally.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, Harry,” I said, relaxing back onto the cushions. “You don’t have the hand-eye coordination to actually inflict any harm.”

I didn’t have to look to know he was frowning as he propped the bat up against a wall. Harry walked around the couch and lifted up my legs, then dropped onto the cushion with my legs in his lap. He surveyed the room in silence, eyeing up each piece of furniture as though it was his arch-nemesis.

“Can’t we just order takeaway and be done with it?” I asked, clasping my hands over my stomach.

Harry glanced over at me. “There is a very nice kitchen that can be used to cook food.”

“You do it then.”

“You made a brilliant curry at Nick’s, do you seriously not know how to make anything else?”

“The fact that my fridge at home is basically just stuff to put on bagels and occasionally some vegetables should give you some hint of my culinary skills,” I said, lifting my head to give him a dry look.
Harry smirked. “I could invite Nick over, he’s always up for an impromptu dinner party.”

“Please no. He’s been so fucking smug ever since you told him I was moving in,” I groaned. “What do you even have other than cereal and tea?”

“You’d be surprised,” Harry said, sliding out from under my legs and holding out a hand to me.

In the kitchen, I hoisted myself up onto the counter and watched Harry pull out a bag of pasta from the cupboard and drop it onto the marble next to me, then head for the fridge. He gathered an array of ingredients into his arms and I tried to figure out when he’d had the time to go shopping.

“Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

Harry shot me an indignant look, which I returned with a smirk. “Would you fill up a pot with water?”

“I thought you were going to show off your excellent culinary skills,” I teased.

“I’m making the sauce,” he explained. “Just get some water boiling, yeah?”

Without Nick around being a nuisance, Harry and I worked surprisingly well together. He didn’t bother putting the shirt he’d discarded this afternoon back on, and I fought the urge to take a picture of him standing before the cooker stirring pasta sauce with unnecessary precision.

I tried to imagine what it would be like being in this kitchen without Harry around making stupid faces or flicking water at me, which would be a reality in just over a week. He wasn’t going to be gone for very long, a week in New York and another in LA for a series of award shows and other appearances. The band was due back in London late-March, when rehearsals for their next tour would begin.

Last summer felt like a lifetime ago. I still had my jobs, sure, but living here meant I didn’t need the money from both. I stared at Harry and he turned around as though he knew I was looking, a dimpled grin spreading across his face. He’d turned my whole world upside down, and sometimes it was like he wasn’t even aware of it. I spent half the time being furious with him, but even then I didn’t hate him, not really. Harry was pessimistic and playful, a combination that shouldn’t exist in nature. He was a goddamn anomaly, and he was all mine.

“We’re going to be shit at this, you know.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Who’s being negative now?”

“It’s true, though.”

“Who cares?” he asked, throwing up his arms. Harry turned around and closed the space between us, setting down the spoon in his hand on the counter. He placed his palms on my thighs and pecked me lightly on the lips. “We’ll learn. I expect you’ll be angry with me most of the time, but that’s nothing new, right?”

“I haven’t been very good at that lately.”

He smiled, ducking his head to brush his lips against the skin below my ear. His curls tickled my cheek. “Well, I expect you’ll be back to your old fiery self in no time.”

“Not having to commute back to Brixton will probably help me get more sleep,” I admitted.

“And my bed is so much more comfortable.”

I grinned, pulling Harry’s face back up to mine. “I sleep better when you’re there.”

But this time his smile was sad. “I can’t be there all the time.”

“I know,” I replied softly, resting my forehead against his.

There was a hiss and a sputter as the water bubbled over the rim of the pot and landed on the burner. Harry rushed over and lifted the lid, then poured the pasta in. He stirred the pot, then checked on his pasta sauce.

“Paying attention, Zola? I expect this as my welcome home meal.”

I scoffed. “Please, you’ll be craving chips from the pub.”

Harry wasn’t very good at looking offended, especially when I was right. As usual.