Trust [h.s.]

XXI

Two weeks at the safe house passed at an agonizingly slow pace. It felt to be spent in slow motion, almost as though I watched the sequence of time through a lens and not my own two eyes. Louis and Niall spent a majority of the time away, working in a different location most days, only returning when necessary. I appreciated their distance and how they didn't feel a need to hover over me.

The mark of my two week stay was a particularly cold Sunday. Louis and Niall hadn't been at the safe house since two days prior, and I was beginning to feel the extreme effects of my isolation. As at Harry's house, doors and windows were locked from both the outside and inside, making any attempt at escape futile. That morning, I was violently pulled from sleep by a full-body shiver, undulating down my spine in a slow and lasting wave. I bundled myself in multiple layers before slumping into the kitchen, putting on the pot for coffee and hopping from one foot to the next to keep warm. As I absentmindedly plopped two waffles into the toaster, my eyes traveled to the calendar that sat perched on the wall adjacent to where I stood. When I saw what the date was, I froze.

1st February.

It was Harry's birthday.

Immediately, a tidal wave of emotion flooded my insides, washing away all previous serenity and disconcerting all equilibrium. I felt my heart explode into a million pieces as a heavy sadness seemingly weighed down my entirety. Two weeks away from Harry felt like a lifetime, and I had been so caught up in my own feelings that his birthday had slipped my mind. I wondered what he was doing, where he was, if he missed me. I wondered if he realized if it was his birthday, and if he wished he was with me as much as I did.

Harry was twenty-one; a full three years my senior, yet his young soul never wavered. He had a mannerism about him that added boyish charms to his masculine nature. This never undermined his obvious masculinity, however, for his hard exterior and guarded personality made it unlikely for those who didn't know him to get a glimpse of what he was really like.

My waffles popped from the toaster, starling me. I sighed as I soaked them in syrup, grabbing my coffee, and taking a seat at the round wooden table. I ate in silence, chewing and swallowing in utter noiselessness as my thoughts wandered back to Harry. My heart hurt. I wanted to see him.

I finished my breakfast quickly, putting away my dishes, and clearing off the table. I pulled my hair out of its ponytail as I decided to shower, walking back into my bedroom to grab a towel. As I did so, I heard the jingle of keys, surprised that Niall and/or Louis finally returned. Humming to myself, I assumed they'd not want my company after arriving from a long drive.

"You're showering?" A deep voice rumbled from behind me, scaring the life out of me. I jumped, my hand flying up to my chest to contain my pounding heart.

"Yeah, I-" I turned around gasping at the sight of the person before me. "Harry!" I squealed.

Everything that was held in my hands dropped to the floor as I raced towards him, flinging my arms around his neck and jumping into his arms. My legs wrapped around his middle as he clung to me tightly, large hands folded across my back, pulling me into him. I dropped my head to his neck, taking a deep breath, and filling my lungs with his smell. I was so happy to see him that I fought back tears that threatened to well up in my eyes.

"I missed you so much." He breathed into my shoulder, planting soft kisses to the clothed skin. Pulling my face from his neck, I grabbed his cheeks, wasting no time in crashing my lips onto his own.

"Happy birthday," I whispered as we pulled apart. Lightly, he set me down, my feet skimming the ground before regaining balance.

"I wouldn't want to spend it with anyone else." Harry spoke softly, leaning into me again and pressing his lips to my own. It didn't feel like enough contact. I could feel my skin tingling where I wanted his touch, needed his touch.