Butterfly Keeper // h.s. au

Chapter Twenty Two

The first thing I notice as my mind begins to slowly break through my heavy blanket of sleep is that he's gone. And I knew he'd be gone too, I knew it deep down but I can't help a feeling of disappointment from forming within me. The bed's not as warm without his body next to mine, keeping me at peace.

    My head feels better now though, less clouded and emotionally strained. My emotional breakdown last night seems so ridiculous now that I look at it with a sound mind. A blush rises to my cheeks just thinking about it, who knows what Harry thinks about me now.

    I have my answer as I look over to my night stand, a perfectly folded piece of paper standing out against the dark wood. My fingers tremble as I pluck it from the night stand, my body still snug in my sheets as I bring it before my face.

   

    Don't be mad at me, I had somewhere I needed to be.

    You were crying in your sleep tell 1am, I hope that you're feeling better when you wake up...

    Also, pack a bag. I'm taking you to your birthday present sometime this week, still not sure when.

    -H x

    I stare at the piece of paper and reread it a couple times. The way his handwriting looks rushed but still poised is like a work of art in itself. And I love the fact that he's always had a thing with leaving notes, even now when he could obviously text me. Writing notes is a lost art that I suspect Harry has a secret passion for.

    After reading the letter I feel more at ease with myself, he must not be too turned off by my outburst if he still wants to take me somewhere for my birthday. And that brings me to the fact that he's taking me somewhere for my birthday at all, let alone somewhere that I'll need an overnight bag for... What should I bring and how long will we be gone? Also, how does he not know what day we're leaving yet?

    Even with Harry's infamous mystery surrounding this trip I'm still buzzing with excitement to be going somewhere with him in the first place. I begin to brainstorm guesses as to where we could be going but only draw blanks in my futile efforts.

The rest of the week passes agonizingly slow. It turns out that worrying about Harry's impending trip doesn't make the time pass any faster. I text Harry throughout the next few days, trying to pry information out of him but his replies remain vague and short. It makes me worry that I'm bothering him, but sometimes he sends me something with a typo being that his fingers are too big for those small buttons on his flip phone and that results in some comic relief for the both of us.

    And by comic relief I mean him sending me an assortment of swear words that are usually filled with impatient typos as well.

    Me and Zayn text throughout the week as well. He tells me that he suspects Courtney will come around soon, and I'm grateful for this information because the silent treatment is getting a little old. I know that I messed up but I don't think that ignoring me for this long is going to fix anything.

    Zayn is also very good at keeping my spirits lifted, and I try to do the same for him. Now we tend chat with each other a little too much in business writing, and I've received a few eyebrow raised glaces from Mr. Payne because of this.

    It's now Friday evening and I'm getting ready to go to the search party for Niall Horan. I text Zayn to see if he's coming, he still seemed unsure about it this morning.

    Turning to my closet, I pull out one of my bigger coats to put over my sweater. It's getting colder and colder out each day, the trees now appearing completely bare and looking like boney fingers pointing up at the sky. I already miss the warm colors and mild temperatures of early fall, autumn is most definitely a fleeting season.