We Had the Right Kind of Love // L.S.

Chapter 26. Letters

The next morning I wake up with my stomach in knots. Harry and I were on delicate terms when we parted ways last night; him taking his old room and me, Gemma's. We had weaved around each other as we got ready for the night in a pool of uncertainty and discomfort. It never used to be like this with him.

I take a deep breath to calm myself before venturing downstairs. It's a new day, I remind myself. A new day to make things right. I still couldn't find it in myself to believe what Harry said last night but if he was willing to try to make things work between us, so was I.

I miss the days we use to flow together so seamlessly. Where we could read each other with a single glance. I miss the gentle whispers and the tentative cheek kisses. Being in Harry's house reminded me of all the history that was built into the four walls.

Passing Harry's room I can almost see the shadows of us when we were younger, limbs wrapped tightly around each other as we snuggled into the nest of blankets and watched movies on Harry's small laptop. Seeing the stairs that lead down to the basement reminds me of the many nights the girls and I spent hiding from our parents when they were in the worse of the fighting stages. It's us in every corner of the Styles' house, sharing secrets, stealing kisses, laughing together, and being happy.

"Good morning," Harry says, bringing me out of my trace. "Breakfast?"

He stands by a plate full of eggs and toast. Always the domestic one, Harry was. At least he tried to be.

"Thank you," I say primly, taking the plate with a gracious hand and settling at one of the bar stools. "I'll finish upstairs today."

Harry leans across the counter and picks at his piece of toast, "You don't have to keep packing. I get if you want to leave. You did more than your fair share just by staying."

"No, I'll help. It's the least I can do for being such a dick last night."

Harry takes a sip of coffee and nods, "I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

"Thanks for breakfast."

"Any time."

**

The only room in the upstairs I had left to clean was Harry's. I could tell he slept there last night with his scent in the air, his Chapstick on the nightstand, and a pile of his clothes from the funeral in the corner.

I carefully start to box up his bedding, seeing that would be the easiest to start with when I'm hit with the memory of moving him into this very room.

     "Louis, hand me the hammer?" Robin asked and I handed him the tool as he nailed to the headboard. We both stood up to admire the bed we had built just as Harry fell through the door with a bag labeled, "HARRY'S SHEETS" on the front.

     "Oops," he muttered and picked himself up from the ground.

     "You boys have done a lot, so you are free to go play now," Robin said, smiling at the miraculously organized room. Harry had insisted we organize each box by the contents and color, which had annoyed me a bit because I worked on the messier side of the scale, but I didn't want to trigger his OCD again, so I just stayed silent and helped.

So we had come full circle. I helped him move into this room and now I was on my knees moving him out. That thought didn't help the fact I was trying not to completely break down what with all of Harry's childhood belongings around me, so I shove the folded sheets into a box labeled HARRY'S SHEETS and turn away from the bed.