prom date | wroetoshaw

This Isn't A Goodbye

"What time's your flight?" He asks, leant against the door, watching me pack.

"Half past eight. I'll get back to Warwick just before half nine," I tell him, feeling rather bittersweet about the whole situation. I was happy to be going home, back to my own safe space, somewhere I was used to.

But at the same time, being with Harry over the last two weeks had made right here feel like home, too. So I was conflicted.

"That's not too bad. Let me know when you get there, and when you're home?" He asks, and we meet each other's gaze, mutually agreeing on it.

"Sure. I'll come back and visit before you know it, and you're welcome to come up to Warwick too. My flat does only have one bedroom, though. Don't earn enough to upgrade just yet."

"The way you're going at the moment, I wouldn't be surprised seeing your name on national newspapers soon. Stop being so humble, I'm serious!"

"Stop it, you're making me blush," I drawl sarcastically, chucking a t-shirt at his face. "Since when were you one to go all extra soppy on me?"

I watch as his mouth opens to answer, but he quickly shuts it, keeping quiet. He throws my t-shirt back to me, and I swiftly catch it, packing it back into my suitcase. It's the last thing that needs packing, meaning I'm all done except for my travel necessities.

"Shit it's nearly seven...I should probably make a move soon. You wanna come see me off at the airport?" I ask him sweetly, batting my eyelashes, knowing it would get him to agree.

"You know I would've offered regardless," he smiled, holding his arm out. "Give me your suitcase. Go get something to eat, I'll put this in the car," he tells me, walking off before I can object.

I don't eat much, only a slice of toast. Flying made me queasy, even if it was just a short flight. I knew saying goodbye to him was going to be rough - neither of us knew when we would see each other again, and I didn't want to lose contact with him like I had the last time.

I picked up my tote bag, slinging it on my shoulder, calling out goodbye to the other two Cal's, who were both in their rooms. I waited for a response back, satisfied when I heard them both.

Just about to leave, the apartment door swung open, Harry standing on the other side.

"You ready to go?" He asked, moving to the side to let me out.

Nodding, I wait for him to shut the door, and we walk down to the garage together.

"It's been a good two weeks, hasn't it?" I say out loud, after several silent moments. He interlinks our arms, squeezing my hand.

"I've enjoyed them," he agreed. "I think I've been the happiest I have been in a long time," he says hesitantly, slowing down as we reach his car.

"Me too. I hope I get to come to London for my job again, it's not as exciting up in Warwick," I admit, not revealing to him that I'd been considering applying for a job at a news company down here. It wasn't a definite yet, not something I wanted to promise him yet.

"Well I can always come visit you, or you can come and stay with me again. There are endless possibilities. I promise you we won't lose contact this time, I will forcibly call you every evening, and you know I will," he says with a grin. I know him too well to know he's not joking.

Once we're both strapped in the car, he revs it up, resting his arm on my headrest, looking behind him to reverse out. A swarm of butterflies fire up in the pit of my stomach which I play off to be nerves about flying. I stay sitting forwards, looking out of the window innocently.