Hunger

August (part 1)

Harry went to America and it was a difficult goodbye. Even though Frankie knew they were still together, and that they would talk at all possible opportunities, she felt like her heart was breaking. There was no time-line. He would be gone as long as it took to write and record his next album. And while he was gone, Frankie would go on with her life as normal, going to work, living in their house in Hampstead Heath and doing what she usually did. 

He was picked up at the house, so they could say goodbye at home instead of her going to the airport to cry in public. Their last night before he was leaving had been long and passionate, a way to charge up on the feeling of his skin, his scent and his touch. A last desperate attempt to store muscle memory, with repeated rounds of pleasuring to fill the cracks in her already breaking heart. She slept in his arms, so close it was difficult to determine, where she ended and he began.

When the car came for him, the driver took his luggage out and Harry asked him to wait in the car. Then he turned and smiled at Frankie, who was already falling apart, tears streaming down her face. She tried to smile back, and be brave, but she melted into his arms.

"I'll call every single day, I promise. And my offer still stands; say the word and I'll fly you out there." His voice was fragile and raw. 

Frankie nodded, and damned her own stubbornness. It had been easy to just say yes, and go with him, but she didn't want to disappoint people at work, and she was not going to be leeching off his money. He already paid almost everything, and refused to let her pay rent. If she quit her job and trailed after him, people would see her as a gold-digger and an opportunist.

She wasn't able to say a lot to send him off. Every time she tried, her voice cracked and she started sobbing. Harry held her tightly and whispered that she didn't have to say anything, they could talk whenever she needed to. She felt like she had so much stored inside, she needed to tell him, but the words were stuck behind a filter of sadness.

"I love you so much," she said through tears and rested her head on his shoulder. 

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you too, more than you know. Now give me a kiss and I'll rip this band-aid."

Frankie kissed him, long and tenderly, not ready to let him go. He had to end the kiss, turn around and leave her behind with a brave face until she saw him enter the car and leave. Then she sobbed into her hands for a while, before she parked in front of the TV and watched Netflix until she fell asleep. 

***

The house was impossibly huge for one person. They had a cleaning firm come clean it every week, but it seemed ridiculous to clean the bigger parts of the house, since she didn't use it at all. Frankie buried herself in work and stayed late most days. Harry had offered her to drive whichever car she wanted, so she drove his Tesla to work every day. It didn't take less time than going on the tube, but she knew that she had mobile service in the car, and Harry almost always called her on her way to work. They used Zoom, so she could see him on the screen in the car, and so he could see her too. 

He was deep in his writing process. That meant he was growing a beard, and his hair looked longer already, his curls unruly and wonderful. 

"I look absolutely feral," he laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. He was sitting in the studio and his friends had gone to find snacks and drinks, "...leaving me to have privacy with my woman, as they said," Harry chuckled and looked away shyly. 

Frankie giggled and shook her head. "Too bad your woman is sitting in London traffic," she joked. Truthfully it was a shame, they hadn't ventured into cam-sex yet, but she knew it was going to be necessary at some point. It wasn't just her soul that missed him, her body very much did as well.