Reticent (h.s fanfic, punk Harry)

Chapter 40

Okay, double update because I feel really bad that I haven't been very active. But school has kept me super busy, I'm just trying to get by in the semester. Have a wonderful week.

They've defined love as an intense feeling of deep emotion. This could be the feeling of butterflies flying in your stomach, and hearing birds when there isn't any. The feeling that the whole world is as happy as you, smiling like you. It feels like everything has come into place, the puzzles have found its pattern, and you've found your soulmate.

At least that's what I've heard.

I can't comprehend what love really is, because I've never been in it. Is anyone really able to fall in love? Or are we able to feel a deep intense feeling of emotion? Perhaps love is just something to keep from suffocating from the hate. Like some light at the end of the tunnel.

But then there's Harry, I don't know if he's my soulmate, I can't tell if I hear birds singing or if I can smell non-existent flowers when I'm around him. I'm not sure if I'm in love with this boy. Still, I feel a flutter in my stomach, as if the butterfly painted on his chest was hiding in mine, flying around.

With Harry, I know it isn't something bland or soft, I didn't feel the same as the time I'd jumped off the plane, but I also didn't have that same feeling of belonging, like someone tapping me on the shoulder to ask what I think about Tessa being so cold towards Horand, and I didn't know really. I'd read the book once then left it on my shelf to collect dust.

So spending the night with Harry didn't seem like a bad idea. Sharing a bed with him didn't seem like a bad idea. And calling John...well I could always do that later, he'd understand that my phone was dying, or that trick-or-treating had gotten out of hand...whatever that meant. I just hoped he'd understand.

Harry and I had gone to about ten houses. We'd stood like little kids holding out our snapbacks. And we'd laughed, laughed at the old man yelling at kids for scaring him, laughed at how some of the children ran around scaring each other with their mummy or hulk costumes. And somewhere in the night I'd found myself standing, watching Harry laugh when he'd collided with a tree. He was walking one minute, and the next on the ground laughing from the clumsiness. Then again that was Harry, a cute, vicious, clumsy, and lanky man. My clumsy and lanky man.

After the wild night of getting candy for free, we fell back on tradition. We sat in the unusually loud diner filled with minors flashing their fake ID's. Not the quietest place to be on a Saturday night, but we sat in the corner booth, Harry with his tea; no sugar or cream, and me with my coffee, decaf this time with too much sugar and cream. We talked about his favorite book, my favorite movie. His favorite color, my favorite flower. We spent hours sipping our drinks, watching the minors go crazy over vodkas and beers, watched them clink their glasses hard, not caring about the spill or stain on their highly inappropriate costumes, and we just talked. We talked until there were a few more teenagers left, until the diner was empty, and until the waitress told us they were closing for the night.

The snapbacks filled with candy weighing us down, Harry and I walked on to his house, we didn't care about the cold, or the first few snowflakes falling down.  Harry ran up to the middle of the deserted street, arms open and tongue out. He ushered me over to try, and like idiots we stood in the middle of the street until a car drove past us and yelled profanities. While Harry yelled back, I went to the sidewalk, I thought about Noah and Allie; they'd done something stupid on the road and almost gotten hit by a car. They lived on to be together, kind of. But they still loved each other. So, I suppose this is it.

This is love. Being juveniles in the middle of the night, yelling at cars, catching snowflakes on our tongues.

Our walk didn't take too long, twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of Harry and I opening random candies and taking a bite, switching and seeing which one got the prize. So far we were both voting for After Eight's; minty but sweet. Just like Harry.

And maybe Harry had shoved three in his mouth and then took my face in his hands to let me taste the sweet minty taste of his mouth, the chocolate. I loved it. Maybe I'd stuffed my mouth with the all dressed chips then done the same. Harry had drawn back with a disgusted laugh then gave a kiss, and another, and another, all the while complaining about how much he hated the taste of all dressed.

I finished the bag of chips, and Harry finished the after eights, mine and his. By the time we arrived at his house the weight didn't seem as much. It was amazing how a few bags of chips and some chocolate's disappearance could make a difference.

Once we were in the house, Harry fed the plants, or he liked to call his 'babies'. I let the cat inside, watched it shake itself of the snow that was falling steadily, and then running to the middle of the room to start licking himself. He looked this way then that, then simply rolled on his back, hands and feet splayed open, purrs loud enough for Harry to hear. Harry laughed and praised Blondie like a proper parent, pampered with too many cute words. But Blondie seemed to not hear any of it, or just ignored the childish tone of his voice, instead he just let his eyes close, his legs stretch even more, and let sleep take over. I sat there watching his chest rise up and down as he snoozed away, his nose twitching, his claws slightly moving. His coat was still still a little wet, and it reminded me of the night we saw him, the night Harry stood in the diner, frown set on his face, so far away from me. And now, Harry and I had come so far, he was much more open about his pain.

Harry and I had come a long way from the night, although it was only a few weeks ago, just a few glimpses before. That night, it made me realize that he was someone I'd want to get to know better, better than watching him from the front of the room, I wanted to be closer with. Maybe it was love, or just a sense of belonging with Harry.

Harry finished with the flowers, set a big bottle of water away and came to sit on the couch, watching Blondie sleep. He thanked me for the night, and I'd simply shrugged. It was my pleasure, truly to walk around with Harry, watch him laugh, with him at the most carefree times. Know who he really was behind all the rumours, behind all the facades he put up. I loved it, I loved every minute of this wonderful, crazy, childish night.

After some time, he asked with small smile where sleep would come better for me; he had two bedrooms in the small house, his and Louis', and the one Jay, Louis' mother has now, he didn't mention that his mother also resided in that room. He seldom talked about his mother, and this was one of those times, I knew I couldn't push him to say more. I asked him which would be better for him, his own room, or the one Jay slept in.

He shrugged, Jay was away for a few days, busy with school and work. We apparently were taking her room. The room his mother had. We both made our way there, leaving a sleeping Blondie where he laid, purring.

John wouldn't mind that I forgot to call him. John wouldn't mind that I spent the night with Harry, or that I ate too much junk food. And I really hope he won't mind the fact that I'd had sex with Harry Styles.

Lorraine