perspective | wroetoshaw

Chapter 38

I'd lost track of how long I'd been staring at the last message on my phone. Every time the screen would start to dim, I would tap on it, bring the brightness back up to look at the message just a little bit longer.

Three weeks sober, thanks to you and Cal. Thought you'd like to know :)

Three whole weeks sober, since that night. The night we both knew we would never bring up again, but stayed prevalent in both our minds.

The smiley face at the end of the text. Not usually how we ended our texts, but then again we hadn't really been texting that much recently. It reminded me of when we had only just started to get to know each other, back when I'd run the fan account for him. Before we were friends, really. It was always nice to reminisce.

really proud of you harry :-)

Maybe to most it didn't sound like the most impressive achievement, but to him, and to me too, it was huge.

"You scared me last night," I admitted, once the two of us were settled back in his bed after a busy day, forgetting the night before.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, using one hand to brush a few strands of hair away from my eyes.

"It's alright - not like it's my place to tell you what you can or can't do in your spare time," I say gently, although I don't quite reach his eyes.

"But you could," he interrupted, the tone of our conversation changing. "You could tell me if it affects you. I'd do it less, or even better, I'd stop. I really would try," he says reproachfully, and I'm kind of at a loss for words.

"Hey, I meant what I said. I'm not going to stop you from doing anything you want to do. I just want you to be safe doing it," I repeat myself, reminding myself to be careful with what I say.

"I'm going to stop," he says again, after momentary silence. He meets my eyes, and before I know it he's kissing my forehead, the both of us sharing an intimate moment together.

"Harry -"

"That's a promise. I don't break promises."

The memory was a bittersweet one, reminding me of how comfortable I felt around him, but at the same time reminding me that he had, in fact, broken his promise. Several promises, actually.

"I promise...that I will always like your tweets," I smile, the two of us going back and forth about promises we'd make to each other. It had been going on for a minute or so already, although I wasn't quite sure what had inspired it.

"I promise I will like all of your Instagram pictures," he replies, humming along to the music playing from his laptop.

"I promise I will defend you on the internet at all costs...unless you do something really bad," I laugh, knowing his tendencies to be labelled as 'problematic' sometimes.

"Personally, I think I'm just funny, not bad. Each to their own I guess," he smirks, sitting up in his bed. "I promise I will finally learn how to braid hair so I can do yours before long journeys," he tells me, catching me by complete surprise.

"How the hell did you know I like to have my hair braided for journeys?" I ask, not sure whether to feel creeped out or flattered.

"Dylan and I had a long conversation the other day," he says vaguely, and I now feel very scared as to what Dylan has told him.

"You've gone very very red...I promise he said nothing too embarrassing," he continues, not making me feel any better.

"Not helping!" I chastise, yet unable to wipe the grin from my face. "I need to teach Dylan some boundaries, honestly!"