Drowning

Forty Three;

Witnessing Harry breakdown time after time had been difficult. I had never been good at comforting others; knowing what to say or do at the right times. In fact, I had a track record of saying the wrong things at the wrong times. With Harry, of course, it was different. It wasn't that I didn't care, or couldn't care, it was much rather that my heart broke so immensely each time he was hurting that I didn't know where to put all of the shattered pieces to fix his own broken heart. Like a puzzle unfinished, but I was trying. Sometimes, I thought that perhaps my efforts mixed with his therapists, were working. Other times, not so much.

"Morning, baby." I hum, turning over in Harry's bed to look at the sleepy man.

"Morning," he mumbles, small smile on his face. "Did you sleep okay?" he asks, eyes barely opening.

"Yeah, I guess so." I say. "Did you?"

"I guess." he sighs.

Harry had officially had six successful therapy sessions. Catherine, his therapist, had called him to request that, instead of weekly sessions, he had three per week, just for now. At first, Harry was against the idea. But now, he was feeling some benefit. For instance, his hallucinations and the dissociation episodes were minimising. His paranoia was slowly, slowly easing, and his mood was in turn becoming more steady, day by day.

"I think Luke was gonna come over later," Harry informs me, taking one of his arms and wrapping it around my body to pull me in closer. I rest my head against his chest.

"That'll be nice," I smile, inhaling his comforting scent. "I'll spend the evening back at mine with Laur,"

"I hate that," Harry says, pulling away to look at me.

"Hate what?" I question.

"'Back at mine'. It's stupid." he pouts.

"Why?" I giggle.

"You're my lady. My fiancée. You shouldn't have a 'mine' when it comes to a home. You should have an 'ours'. We should have an 'ours'." he explains, his eyes looking into my own.

It wasn't that I hadn't considered this, because I had, many times. I often thought about how much easier it'd be, but life had gotten in the way and our main focus had been Harry's health both mentally and physically.

"I suppose you're right." I say, a small smile playing at my lips.

"I am right." he huffs. "I love your place, but we can't move into there because it's shared with Lauren. My place is more of a bachelors pad, but it doesn't have to be, we could make it however you want it. Or, we could find somewhere else. Maybe a little house away from the city, but not so far that our commutes to work would be terrible. What do you say, Zar? Move in with me." Harry rambles, his mood a vast change from what it had been recently.

"You seem happier," is all I say, with a large smile.

"Because I am. Because thinking about my future with you makes me happy. It feels hopeful." he admits. I felt a blush creep to my cheeks, because even after all of this time, all of the moments spent just he and I, he still held the ability to make me blush.

"It does," I say softly. "I'd love to move in with you, properly."

"Properly, yes." he nods. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, what is it?" I ask.

"Kids." is all he says. I frown.

"That wasn't a question," I chuckle.

"Do you want them?" he asks me. "Like, seriously. Do you want children, with me, eventually?"

I pondered for some moments. Harry and I had discussed this ever so loosely and lightheartedly in the past. Joking around, perhaps. But we'd never had this actual discussion. Like, a real, adult discussion. About this. About children. About our children.