Paper Birds

Chapter Forty-Nine ; Before

I quit my job.

Mrs. Bombay was pretty disappointed before Harry wrote her a two thousand dollar check for the trouble. That frown vanished pretty quickly. I never liked working there, anyway. Day after boring day of stuffing things in bags, if you even got a customer. That store was empty half of the time it existed. 

So now that was taken care of, I still had the weight of Jonah's wedding on my shoulders. 

I glanced at Harry, who seemed lost in thought standing blankly infront of the closet. He was supposed to be picking out a shirt, but he stood there, still as a statue, staring at nothing. 

"Hey." I gently placed my hand on his shoulder. He blinked and turned me.

"Hey," he said with a gentle smile, like making eyes at the wall was normal. 

"What're you thinking about?" I asked, ruffling through the not-so-wide variety of shirts that he decided to keep in there. The rest of his clothes were stuffed in the smaller closet by the kitchen. We didn't have much room in this apartment, but we made the best of it.

"Oh, nothing," he replied nonchalantly. 

"Well, it's obviously something," I insisted. 

"Uh, just about last night," he mumbled hesitantly, flipping through his shirts with me. 

"I would've done the same thing you did," I offered honestly. He turned to me slowly, letting his head fall against mine. 

"No one can touch you as long as I'm around. No one."

And I believed him.

----

"Are you done yet?" Harry asked irritably, crossing his arms.

"Be patient, would you? You're the one who wants the quiff, not me." I had to stand on a stool to reach above his head, I was so short. His hair was being stubbornly stiff and thick this morning, so it took a lot more hairspray. It was strange using hair product on a guy. He was used to it, though; three years in the spotlight of fame, well, you have to make sure you look nice. "Speaking of.. what's with this new style?" 

Personally, I enjoyed his bedhead, but that didn't always look.. 'neat'. 

Harry shrugged. "It makes me look older."

I pressed my lips together. I didn't want him to look older. 

I stuck my tongue out the corner of my mouth, something I tend to do when I'm dealing with tedious things. Like feelings. And hair.

"There," I said, giving the back of his head one final comb. I grabbed the mirror off of the dresser and held it out in front of his face. The corner of his mouth curled up.

"Brilliant. Thank you."

I smiled sweetly and hopped off the chair I was standing on. "Any time."

He kissed my cheek and grabbed his signature blazer off of the coat rack, waiting by the door with my jacket. Tossing it to me, we went out the door and rode back to our old house, where Jonah and Tiffani would be holding the wedding.

I didn't know at the time that we would never be coming back. 

----

Harry and I stayed in a hotel because I wouldn't be able to stand staying at our old house.

Jonah insisted to keep the wedding in our hometown, at the church we always used to go to when we were little. At the age of fourteen, Robbie started taking us there because Dad was always too busy and my mom was an Athiest. Robbie still felt that we need to be connected to God, so that was his reasoning to walk a half of a mile to the chapel in busy traffic. We were friends with everybody at that church. It was the same conversation every Sunday.