Back to you and me - Larry

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I wake up when my phone rings and startles me awake. I spend a moment searching my sheets, squinting my eyes when Harry's name lights up on my too-bright screen.

"H."

"Morning, baby."

I close my eyes. "Harry."

"Happy anniversary."

"I miss you," I say, trying to keep my tears back because I don't want him to know I'm about to cry at the sound of his voice. "I want to see you."

I want to hug him and kiss him and squeeze him into my memory. The last month has been so hard, so I need to see him and touch him and make sure he's not merely a voice I'm currently hearing through my phone.

"Baby, you know I can't come home. I'm sorry my trip was extended, but I'm gonna be home tomorrow. And then we can celebrate however way you want."

I hum in response. Zayn said he went home early to be with me, so I need to locate him and somehow save him before he tries to save our anniversary. I think about last month and how much it broke me and messed with my mind, so this is more serious than the other times I've been back. I can't mess this up, because I need to make sure he survives this day.

"I love you."

"I love you more," he says. "I have to run, but I'm gonna call you around lunch, okay?"

"Okay."

I start crying when our call ends, sobbing as I text Liam and Zayn to hear them about driving me to the airport. I then go through drawers and cabinets to track down my passport. I reschedule my appointments once I've checked my schedule, then eat something as I wait on Liam who's strangely excited about my plan.

"He's gonna be so surprised."

"It's not gonna be a surprise," I say. "I have to tell him so I can actually track down his hotel."

"Check his Instagram. I'm pretty sure there was a location on his last post."

I open my phone to see the post. It's a photo of a rather charming hotel room, taken on the balcony through the doors. I smile when I read the caption—only thing missing is @louisstomlinson. I've already commented—next time take me with you @harrystomlinson. It's cute that we have nearly the same name. And it's in theory also very sweet that he has mentioned me in his post, but what's important is the location attached to the photo because now I know what hotel he's at.

I write it down, then scroll through his photos—he's practically obsessed with me. I'm not in every photo, but I'm in nearly every caption, though it turns out my own account isn't much different. Harry has a separate account with his professional photos—they're crazy good, but I suppose that makes sense with his talent. I'm only in three photos on this account, ones that look as though they've been taken without my knowledge—typical Harry to sneak in photos when I least expect it.

I thank Liam when we arrive at the airport. I have to wait two hours once I've bought my ticket, but I'm beyond relieved once I'm in my seat and on my way. I twist my wedding ring over and over again, listening to random conversations as I think about seeing Harry now that I've spent a month thinking he was dead because I messed up by ruining things with Levi. I'm not convinced this is real. I have to see him—touch him—so I can convince my mind he's real and alive and married to me.

I take a taxi to his hotel when I arrive in Amsterdam. The woman at the counter is sweet enough to hand me an extra keycard to Harry's room once I've explained my situation and shown her my passport to prove Harry and I have the same last name. Harry's things are still in his room, but otherwise, it's spotlessly clean so I remove my shoes and crawl into his bed. I bite my lip when I spot the lube on his nightstand, then wonder whether or not we ever have phone sex whenever we're not together.