prom date | wroetoshaw

listen before I go

I think the song gives it away, really 

Also, well done for sticking with this story for so long. It may be time for a re-read when I tell you that this is the official last chapter. Get your tissues out, and please do not yell at me. I love you!

6 HOURS PREVIOUS.

"I love you. I promise I will text you the moment I get to the house -" I start, but I'm already being shushed by Harry, who is midway through stroking my hair. 

"I think you mean the moment you land, no?" He eyes me up, as if what I had just said was ludicrous. 

I smile, it's endearing to see how much he cares about me arriving safely. "Alright, yeah, deal. I'll text you when I land," I reiterate, feeling his hands only grip harder as he hugs me. "It's only a week, Harry. You're holding me like we'll never see each other again," I say simply, with a sigh.

"Sorry, sorry. I know. I just worry about you, is all," he confesses, the stark truth surprising me a little. I thought I'd hidden my raw emotions at least a little better than that. But he seemed to see right through me, even when I wasn't willing to show it. 

"Hey! I've been doing...okay. Not as bad as I have been, anyway," I correct myself, kissing the side of his cheek as I slowly pull away from our hug. 

"I could come with you...do the work remotely, maybe," he offers, but we both know that's not really possible. He owes it to the guys to be there for the last week, and tie up his commitments. 

"Harry...we've discussed this -" I start, but he seems intent. 

"And I'm discussing it with you again now. I'm being serious. I'll come with you right now, what's stopping me?"

I try to make a joke out of it. "Probably the fact that you have no ticket, no luggage, no nothing?"

"No, you don't understand, I have -" he says, still trying. 

"Harry, okay, stop. Enough. You're being silly, it'll be fine! I will be okay. I'll see you in a week. I love you, I'm gonna go now, you know - before the plane actually departs without me," I say sarcastically, looking over at the boarding area where my queue was starting to move along. 

I could literally see his shoulders deflate. "Right, yeah. Sorry. I'll let you go...just - call me. Call me if you're bored, if you're happy, if you're sad. Just call me, okay?" He says, and I can hear the sincerity in his voice. 

I think we both know I won't call him if I'm sad, not unless I'm in a mood where I feel able to talk to someone, but I promise him anyway. It's only a week. 

Only a week. 

PRESENT.

Guernsey has always been cold and windy. Nearly every time I've gotten off of a plane at the airport, my hair blows up into a mess and I get goosebumps on my arms from the harsh winds, regardless of the time of year. 

This time is no exception. When I climb down the stairs, off of the plane, I find the same thing happening to me once again. This time, the skies are a dark grey, and not many people are chatting. It's quiet, and a weird type of quiet at that too.

I just focus on finding my luggage and my taxi. It's cold enough, and I can't think of anything better than going home and wrapping up in my Nan's old blanket next to the fireplace. It'll be a warm reward after a long day of travelling.