GONE | h.s

03

WARNING Harry gets a bit delusional in this chapter. 

03

        I was currently sat on the living room sofa, drinking tea at 4:42 am, finally recovering from my drunken state, and fully sober. Yesterday consisted of me drowning my sorrows until I couldn't comprehend what was going on. Each sip I swallowed, each drink that entered my system, went in with a patch of guilt. No matter how much I drank, no matter how much I wanted to forget, she was still consuming my thoughts.

I stared down at the cup in my hand, swirling my drink, my eyes flicker back and forth towards my bedroom door to down on my hands.

I was debating wether or not to walk in, just so I could see her one more time. Be with her one more time. Yet I didn't want another episode to happen, which consisted of me throwing glass bottles and lamps at the wall.

A deep sigh escaped my cracked lips, as I hesitantly placed the cup on my living room table, and walked towards my bedroom.

I gently opened the room door, eyeing the room. I notice the duvet was still neatly folded across our bed, as if no one has slept there.

The room still had some of her clothing scattered across the floor, which she had thrown the day we made love the last time. Two days before her death.

A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I remember that day perfectly.

Her lips caressed my skin, brushing softly on my neck, as a deep groan escaped my lips.

"You like that don't you" she gives a deviously smirk.

"Don't tease me" I growl, becoming impatient.

I quickly shifted her off me, laying her back against the mattress, as I now straddled her waste. My tongue immediately connected with hers, feeling the warmth that flooded through my veins.

"I love you" I say to her, reconnecting my lips with hers.

I instinctually tugged onto her shirt, causing her to pull her lips away from mine, but it was only a matter of seconds until they reconnected.

"I love you more"

I remember how that night continued off with way too many "I love you's" and promises that were meant to be broken. We were high off ecstasy and in that moment everything felt perfect.

I stand from the comforting bed and walk to her organized closet. I pulled my favorite dress of hers off the hanger and held it in my arms. It was a beautiful strapless maroon dress that landed above the knee. And Grace always managed to look gorgeous in it.

It was as if I couldn't get enough of her. And it was true. I couldn't. She was mine, yet she still managed to slip through my fingers.

I pull the dress to my face as I smelled the material, her scent filling my nose.

The day she wore this dress was the day I first told her I loved her and asked her to be my bride.

"Grace there was something I've been meaning to tell you" I say nervously, praying she'd say yes.

I managed to get us a reservation at "Chitea del maru" which happened to be a very expensive restaurant, but I was positive the outcome would have been worth it.

"What's wrong Harry? Are you okay?" Worry crosses her features, I found it slight humorous that she was worried, because instead she should be beaming with joy.

A nervous laugh escapes my lips as I shake my head slowly. Instead of responding, I grab both her hands in mine.

"Grace, we've been together for Seven months now, and I can't believe we've known each other for three whole years.You've been my comfort after the passing of my parents, and for that I'm extremely grateful. A world without you, means a world without happiness, and I cannot fathom what I would be doing without you. Grace, I love you. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you, (cliche IK ik)" I made a short pause in my cheesy speech, slipping the velvet box out of my dress pants and placing it into the palms of the woman I love.

Tears begin strolling down her face, as I open the box and say the four words.

"Will you marry me, Grace Willis?"

I held the bridge of my nose sucking in a deep breath, accepting the fact our memories will always haunt me.

Of course that day she said yes, but I couldn't help but feel the slight ache in my chest that I wouldn't get to see my bride walk down the aisle.

I place the dress back onto the hanger, closing up the closet. But right when I was about to slam it shut, something falls from the closet shelf.

I slowly open it back up, and see a notebook on the floor. I hesitantly pick it up and open it on the first page.

"Dear Harry,

Today was the day I was supposed to die"

--

Harry always says "ours" instead of "mine" because he simply won't accept the fact that she's dead.