One Journey, the Final

Chapter 24:

The sound of hard rain and sleet pelting at a window is certainly not a comforting way to wake up, especially in a house that is altogether foreign to you. My eyes opened in a flash, my breath heavy, scared by the unnatural noises I was hearing. I sat up, and instantly regretted it, the chilly air stabbing me like knives. I buried myself under the old quilts that had been conveniently piled up. With only my head peeking out, I looked around at my surroundings. Mossy-green walls and a single bookshelf. A few posters of old British bands lined the walls, I knew only one-the Beatles. This must've been Harry's old room when he was a child. A desk was on the opposite side, facing the window that looked like it might break with all of the violent weather. On the desk was a family photo, and a photo with a few of his school friends. It was a simple room, kept clean. I could see my breath, puffs of it wafting through the frosty air. I couldn't feel my nose, and the urgency of the aid of the bathroom was calling my name. I was still in yesterday's clothes, though I have no idea how I gotten here. There was another question that poked at my mind; who else knew that I was here? Was I a welcomed guest? But I didn't have enough time. I needed to pee. Right now. Begrudgingly, I slid out of the warmth of the bed, and tip toed in my socks along the blue carpeting to where the bathroom was, unluckily in an unknown location. I didn't dare peek through any doors, afaid that I might stumble upon a bedroom where a person might be softly asleep. So I did the only thing I could do, use my architectural skills to see where the archictect might have designed the bathroom to be. Judging by the design and number of rooms, this had to be about 2000 square feet. Considering this was a sort of joint/town home, I had to be close. There was a small set of stairs, and I could see a hallway leading to a kitchen. Before going down the hallway, I sucked in a deep breath. Standing in front of me was a door, and I was pretty sure this was the bathroom. I stared at the cold brass doorknob, terrified. It was pretty pathetic. But, I couldn't be scared much longer. Before anyone could awake and see me, I quietly twisted the doorknob, and gently opened it, hoping no sort of creaking would sound. To my luck, I was in the bathroom. I flicked the light on and was relieved. Now that I was awake and better, I didn't exactly know what to do. So, my better judgement told me to go hide in the safety of his bedroom. Maybe I would be able to find some adorably embarrassing photo of him. But instead of doing that, I crashed on his bed, exhausted. I knew that would happen. The next time I woke up, it was because my stomach was speaking loud enough for itself. But I wasn't worried about that. Where was Harry? I assumed he was on the couch downstairs, and my instincts were proven correct when I nearly crawled down the stairs and saw him shivering underneath a few blankets. Elated, I nearly flew to his side. I kissed his frozen cheek, and his eyes opened. At first he was a bit surprised, but then glad to see me. I could see the warmth shine in his eyes.

"Annabel," he breathed. I had never seen him wake up before. Apparenty, he would smile, blink his eyes a few times, stretch, and let out a big yawn, because that's what he was doing right now.

"How did I get upstairs into your bedroom last night? I don't even remember falling asleep. What happened?" I asked, getting extremely cold while squatting next to him. He sat up, let me hop up next to him on the couch, and threw a blanket over us. I was extremely grateful for the extra warmth, considering it was now snowing outside, and I was pretty sure the heater was on a horrifying low.

"Tea bags and scalawags, you're freezing babe!" he cried. I snorted.

"Scalawags? What are you? A British pirate?" He covered one of his eyes, used the other to make a hook shape, and persisted to try and copy a pirate accent. "Argggh, me thinks the girl don't like pirates. Arggh."

"Just because you put 'argggh' in front of everything, does not make you a pirate," I teased, poking him in the stomach.

"I've been shot!" he cried, now pretending to be dead, and apparently, Fat Amy. Oh well. Playful Harry is better than "On Tour-Bad Interview" Harry. Considering he was now "dead", I took the opportunity to tickle him. His laughter peeled through the air, so sweet and so loud. Of course though, he couldn't play defenseless. So he tickled me too. There was no coming back from here. This was a full on tickle fight, but I was not going to be defeated. I swiped a pillow from the couch and hit him across the shoulder. His eyes were now glowing with anticipation. I couldn't help but giggle. He grabbed one too, and now we were both standing up, practically having a sword match with our blue pillows. I was no longer cold, adrenaline rushing throughout my body. I spun around, trying to aim for him, but I missed, tripping on my own feet, and collapsed onto the floor. Luckily, I landed on soft carpeting, so the blow didn't hurt as much.

"Ouch," I mumbled, rubbing my head. Harry was already by my side, quietly laughing at me.

"Are you okay?" he whispered. Even in a whisper, his accent was strong. I nodded, and joined his laughter. Before I could say another word, he leaned down to kiss me. I could feel a slight throbbing in the back of me head, and I felt like I was drowning. But I didn't want this to end. I had missed Harry so much....

Until I heard footsteps on the stairs. A light flickered on, and a very sharp maternal voice asked,

"Harry, who is this?"