Come Into Bloom
one/one
“Hey, come back to bed.”
Lenore heard the words, but didn’t answer them, her eyes were stuck on the tiny bundle curled in the crib before her. He was so peaceful, curled up with his stuffed fox that Niall had brought in when he first visited at hospital, one little fist clenched underneath his chin. He was positively the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen; and he was all hers and the man who stood in the doorway. Finally, she plucked up the nerve to answer, and her words were hushed in order to not wake the sleeping babe. “I just can’t look away from him. He’s so precious.”
She heard a soft chuckle and the soft creak of the floorboard just inside the doorway of the nursery and then his arms were wrapping around her waist and his head was nestled against her neck. “You need you sleep, love,” Harry spoke. “He’ll still be her in the morning. Just like every day of the past month since we brought him home.”
Lenore sighed and leaned back against her husband's’ strong, solid chest. She knew he was correct, but it was just still so surreal to her. A year ago they’d barely even known each other; they’d just been two people who’d met in a farmers market outside Los Angeles and sprung into a relationship willy nilly. Gabriel had been a pleasant surprise two months later and the engagement and wedding after that an even more pleasant surprise. Now, Lenore couldn’t imagine her life without Harry or their one month old son. Her boys, her entire world. “Just five more minutes,” she whispered back, feeling the regretful sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. Her emotions were still a bit wobbly, even postpartum. “Please.”
There was a slight hesitation in the moment where Lenore was sure Harry was going to guide her by her elbows back towards their room, but instead, he sighed, and led her towards the rocking chair in the corner behind them. “We’ll just sit and watch him here, then,” Harry murmured into Lenore’s ear. “Much more comfortable than standing in the middle of the room.”
Lenore hummed and leaned back in his arms, curling her own close to her chest as she turned sideways in his lap. Harry was quick to wrap one arm underneath her legs, better to make sure she didn’t slip off his lap and wake the baby, before pushing off gently with one foot and sending them rocking serenely. Lenore could remember the day they’d painted this nursery, which had been a makeshift library of sorts before. Harry had forbidden her from stepping foot in the room, so she’d camped out in the hallway in the very rocking chair they sat in now, and directed him and Niall about the room as they went.
The walls were a light mint green with eggshell white trim and flower wall decals. Three glass terrariums hung from ropes in the corner and housed faux hens and chicks and little cacti. The crib was a classic style, white, and had pale yellow sheets and stuffed bears and two cactus cushions that Lenore’s Aunt Erin had handmade for the occasion. The changing station was average, nothing too special, and sat against a wall that housed three shelves stocked with even more fake plants and pictures of Harry and Lenore throughout the pregnancy, as well as ones from their wedding and an ultrasound. All in all, the nursery was a very relaxing place that encompassed the entirety of Lenore and Harry’s relationship; fake plants on the very cusp of blooming. It was the perfect resting place for their son, who was blooming right before their very eyes.
“I still remember the day I first met you,” Harry whispered in her ear when minutes had passed. Gabriel was silent in his crib, with only a few light snores and murmurs escaping him.
Lenore smiled and turned to look at Harry. “Well, I’d hope so. It was only a year ago, after all.”
He rolled his eyes and pinched her leg lightly, making her squirm and giggle quietly. “Cheeky,” he muttered. “Seriously, though, I remember it perfectly. Every detail and thought of that day is crystal clear to me, that hardly happens with me, Lenore, you know.”
“Yeah, I do,” she said quietly, setting her humor aside and letting the memory wash over her. The summer heat bearing down on her as she walked through the rows of stalls, looking over homegrown carrots and apples, her messenger bag knocking against the back of her knees and the canvas shopping bag with a cactus on it that her Aunt Erin had made especially for her digging into her skin where it hung from her elbow. She’d been examining a particularly lovely bunch of ripe pears when a shadow had moved over her and a large hand reached out into her sightline.
“I think this one will do,” a deep, accented, voice had spoken from next to her, holding out the green pear. “Also, I really like your bag.”
Lenore had shifted both bags hanging from her arms surreptitiously at the words before turning to the stranger with the words, “Which one?” hanging from her lips only to have her breath caught when she’d seen a verified international heartthrob standing next to her.
Harry Styles had smiled crookedly and, politely ignoring her obvious starstruck reaction, pointed to the canvas bag. “This one, that cactus is cute,” he answered, reaching out with the hand that held the pear with one eyebrow raised. When she didn’t object, just nodded, Harry dropped the pear into the bag to lay comfortably with the bundle of asparagus she’d gathered just before. “Where’d you get it?”
Lenore had snapped herself out of her daze and smiled. “It’s one of a kind, I’m afraid. My aunt made it for me.”
“Shame, that.” There’d been a moment in which they’d both looked over one another. Lenore in her ratty, cut-off overalls, Hey Arnold tee, and black Chuck Taylors and Harry in a pair of denim shorts and a hideous Hawaiian shirt. The moment had been broken by Harry, who, with a wide smile on his face, had held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Harry, nice to meet you…?”
“Lenore,” she had answered, shaking his hand and smiling a smile of her own. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”
“I’d never seen anyone look as good in dungarees as you did,” Lenore’s husband said now, holding her tighter. “I’d seen you from down the way and it’d taken me ages to come up with that stupid ‘this is a good one’ pear thing. I just needed to talk to you.”
Lenore smiled, pressing it against his neck. “Well, it wasn’t so stupid, just look how it worked out.”
Harry hummed in acknowledgment. “Pretty damn well, I think.”
She turned to look at the crib again as Gabriel let out a particularly large snore for someone his size, and grinned. “Yeah, pretty damn well, indeed.”
Lenore heard the words, but didn’t answer them, her eyes were stuck on the tiny bundle curled in the crib before her. He was so peaceful, curled up with his stuffed fox that Niall had brought in when he first visited at hospital, one little fist clenched underneath his chin. He was positively the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen; and he was all hers and the man who stood in the doorway. Finally, she plucked up the nerve to answer, and her words were hushed in order to not wake the sleeping babe. “I just can’t look away from him. He’s so precious.”
She heard a soft chuckle and the soft creak of the floorboard just inside the doorway of the nursery and then his arms were wrapping around her waist and his head was nestled against her neck. “You need you sleep, love,” Harry spoke. “He’ll still be her in the morning. Just like every day of the past month since we brought him home.”
Lenore sighed and leaned back against her husband's’ strong, solid chest. She knew he was correct, but it was just still so surreal to her. A year ago they’d barely even known each other; they’d just been two people who’d met in a farmers market outside Los Angeles and sprung into a relationship willy nilly. Gabriel had been a pleasant surprise two months later and the engagement and wedding after that an even more pleasant surprise. Now, Lenore couldn’t imagine her life without Harry or their one month old son. Her boys, her entire world. “Just five more minutes,” she whispered back, feeling the regretful sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. Her emotions were still a bit wobbly, even postpartum. “Please.”
There was a slight hesitation in the moment where Lenore was sure Harry was going to guide her by her elbows back towards their room, but instead, he sighed, and led her towards the rocking chair in the corner behind them. “We’ll just sit and watch him here, then,” Harry murmured into Lenore’s ear. “Much more comfortable than standing in the middle of the room.”
Lenore hummed and leaned back in his arms, curling her own close to her chest as she turned sideways in his lap. Harry was quick to wrap one arm underneath her legs, better to make sure she didn’t slip off his lap and wake the baby, before pushing off gently with one foot and sending them rocking serenely. Lenore could remember the day they’d painted this nursery, which had been a makeshift library of sorts before. Harry had forbidden her from stepping foot in the room, so she’d camped out in the hallway in the very rocking chair they sat in now, and directed him and Niall about the room as they went.
The walls were a light mint green with eggshell white trim and flower wall decals. Three glass terrariums hung from ropes in the corner and housed faux hens and chicks and little cacti. The crib was a classic style, white, and had pale yellow sheets and stuffed bears and two cactus cushions that Lenore’s Aunt Erin had handmade for the occasion. The changing station was average, nothing too special, and sat against a wall that housed three shelves stocked with even more fake plants and pictures of Harry and Lenore throughout the pregnancy, as well as ones from their wedding and an ultrasound. All in all, the nursery was a very relaxing place that encompassed the entirety of Lenore and Harry’s relationship; fake plants on the very cusp of blooming. It was the perfect resting place for their son, who was blooming right before their very eyes.
“I still remember the day I first met you,” Harry whispered in her ear when minutes had passed. Gabriel was silent in his crib, with only a few light snores and murmurs escaping him.
Lenore smiled and turned to look at Harry. “Well, I’d hope so. It was only a year ago, after all.”
He rolled his eyes and pinched her leg lightly, making her squirm and giggle quietly. “Cheeky,” he muttered. “Seriously, though, I remember it perfectly. Every detail and thought of that day is crystal clear to me, that hardly happens with me, Lenore, you know.”
“Yeah, I do,” she said quietly, setting her humor aside and letting the memory wash over her. The summer heat bearing down on her as she walked through the rows of stalls, looking over homegrown carrots and apples, her messenger bag knocking against the back of her knees and the canvas shopping bag with a cactus on it that her Aunt Erin had made especially for her digging into her skin where it hung from her elbow. She’d been examining a particularly lovely bunch of ripe pears when a shadow had moved over her and a large hand reached out into her sightline.
“I think this one will do,” a deep, accented, voice had spoken from next to her, holding out the green pear. “Also, I really like your bag.”
Lenore had shifted both bags hanging from her arms surreptitiously at the words before turning to the stranger with the words, “Which one?” hanging from her lips only to have her breath caught when she’d seen a verified international heartthrob standing next to her.
Harry Styles had smiled crookedly and, politely ignoring her obvious starstruck reaction, pointed to the canvas bag. “This one, that cactus is cute,” he answered, reaching out with the hand that held the pear with one eyebrow raised. When she didn’t object, just nodded, Harry dropped the pear into the bag to lay comfortably with the bundle of asparagus she’d gathered just before. “Where’d you get it?”
Lenore had snapped herself out of her daze and smiled. “It’s one of a kind, I’m afraid. My aunt made it for me.”
“Shame, that.” There’d been a moment in which they’d both looked over one another. Lenore in her ratty, cut-off overalls, Hey Arnold tee, and black Chuck Taylors and Harry in a pair of denim shorts and a hideous Hawaiian shirt. The moment had been broken by Harry, who, with a wide smile on his face, had held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Harry, nice to meet you…?”
“Lenore,” she had answered, shaking his hand and smiling a smile of her own. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”
“I’d never seen anyone look as good in dungarees as you did,” Lenore’s husband said now, holding her tighter. “I’d seen you from down the way and it’d taken me ages to come up with that stupid ‘this is a good one’ pear thing. I just needed to talk to you.”
Lenore smiled, pressing it against his neck. “Well, it wasn’t so stupid, just look how it worked out.”
Harry hummed in acknowledgment. “Pretty damn well, I think.”
She turned to look at the crib again as Gabriel let out a particularly large snore for someone his size, and grinned. “Yeah, pretty damn well, indeed.”