Waves {h.s.}

thirty-one - anchor

One day to the wedding

Two of my favorite things in the world: Harry and trains. I was fascinated by both of them, loved them, and combining the two together brought me indescribable joy. Harry, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. He checked his bag twice before we left, emptying it on my bed only to pack it again, thinking that he had forgotten something. I had never seen him being so agitated.

I loved trains, however, much like the last time I had been on a train, the ride seemed a little longer than usual and the closer we got to our destination, the more nervous I got.

Obviously, Harry felt the same. The whole time, he looked out the window and held my hand in silence. I was okay with that. I hadn't intended on having a long conversation on what was going to happen the next day but instead had decided on giving him the space that he needed. I think he was grateful for it, as he gave my hand gentle squeeze from time to time, or sometimes pressed sweet kisses on the back of my hand. In return, I offered him supportive smiles and pretended that I didn't notice his left leg shaking up and down.

Until we got to our hotel, Harry and I barely exchanged a few words, but when we finally settled into our modest hotel room, Harry couldn't keep his mouth shut. Now that we weren't in public, he probably allowed himself to lose it a little.

The weird thing was that he wasn't even talking about the wedding, seeing his family or anything relatively close to that. Instead, he rambled on and on and on about his job, about this new car that he wanted to buy and about some of his friends that I had heard the name of a few times but had never actually met. Clearly, talking about his everyday life helped him settle in some way. Maybe he tried to remind himself that he had something normal that he could go back to once this weekend was over, that his life didn't revolve solely around the few days ahead.

I sat on the bed with my legs crossed as my eyes followed Harry hurriedly walking aimlessly around the room. He was making all kind of exaggerated gesture as he talked, something that he never did, and it fascinated me. Even after all these years of knowing him, I was discovering new things about him.

"That's crazy, isn't it?"

That had me looking straight into his eyes. I hadn't really been paying attention to what he was saying, too fascinated by his non-verbal.

"I'm sorry, I zoned out," I apologized. "What were you saying?"

His whole body slacked and he came to sit next to me. He let himself fall onto his back and threw one of his arms over his eyes. "I'm rambling," he noted. "I'm sorry. I've just been thinking too much on the train and I can't think anymore. I'm trying to keep my mind busy with other things, but it's not working."

I let out a small chuckle. "You were being so gesticulative, I've never seen you like this," I told him before following his lead and laid on my back next to him. "Nervous?", I asked, although I obviously knew the answer.

He nodded and I turned on my side, resting my head against my hand and putting my other hand on his chest. "I promised that I wouldn't push you, but I'm always here for you if you need to talk."

"I know," he replied as he moved his arm away to take a look at me.

Slowly, he leaned in to press his lips against mine. Even if I knew that every kiss we shared held love and affection, to Harry, this kiss was mostly to help him settle. It was fine by me, it made me feel like he needed me. When everything went to hell in his life, he came to me, every time. I gladly played the role of his anchor in the middle of an unsteady sea. This time was no exception.

It was a big step for him, coming back to our childhood hometown. A big destabilizing step. That, and the fact that his sister was getting married. He hadn't even met the groom yet and knowing Harry, even if his relationship with his older sister hadn't been in the best shape in the last two years, his protective instinct was kicking in.