A blissful week was spent on lounging afternoons and hilarious nights. The loneliness subsided in Harry's heart, and he felt more at ease every day.
"One time, I tweeted that Niall peed himself on a flight," Harry recalled as they lay together on a hammock under the setting sun.
Cerise clapped her hands as she laughed. They were starting to unconsciously mimic each other in miscellaneous manners: the way Cerise exhaled thrice after a laughing fit, Harry now copied; the way Harry's eyes squinted slightly when he was asked a serious question, Cerise had picked up on. In a fleeting moment of realization, Cerise had noticed it and smiled at the thought; but said nothing of it.
"One time, I brought vodka to school in a water bottle," Cerise chipped in, giggling at the memory.
Harry's eyes bulged and he looked over at her accusingly. "I thought you didn't drink?"
Cerise shook her head. "No, I haven't. I just stole it from Father because it cost upwards of a thousand dollars and he had upset me." She shrugged. "I was only nine. Your turn," she prodded after a shocked silence.
"Uh..." Harry mumbled in his famous brooding voice. "Once, when I was, uh, drunk, I talked to a cat for an hour,"
Cerise hooted and wiped a strand of hair from her sun-kissed forehead. "One time, I talked to a book for an hour. You know, the red Shakespeare one in my room? I wasn't drunk, though. I just wanted someone to talk to," she admitted thoughtfully.
Harry shot her a crooked grin. "You've got me to talk to now," he told her quietly, eyes shining with sincerity.
She smiled back and linked her arm in his. "Yeah" was all the girl with so many words managed to say.
The sky looked akin to spilled paint as its lilac fingers smoothed out the blue. The sun's eyes winked farewell over the dancing brows of the treetops. A surreal twilight filled the empty spaces in the air and a nearby stream gurgled serenely. The utopian world was at peace and so were the two adolescents as they stared contentedly at the world around them.
"I miss my mum," Harry murmured suddenly. Cerise had become accustomed to his random outbursts since his heart seemed to have no restraints. "I can't call her now, like I used to, because it's 'not safe'." His voice dripped with disdain and his expressive lips grimaced painfully. The anger and hatred he felt towards the hit-man seemed to boil the most viciously in his emotionally vulnerable moments. Cerise had almost learned how to sense the approach of these outbursts and somehow always knew how to comfort him. Her patient thumb stroked his wrist in a circular motion as she spoke to him.
"They'll find him soon, Harry," she said to him calmly. "Your family knows you're safe."
He sighed and rubbed his face with his free hand. "But my mum--what if they--?" His voice cut off and he winced at the thought.
"Simon told you they're keeping an eye on their safety," she reminded him softly, her tone even. "Simon is clearly excellent at decision-making and handling dangerous situations." She made eye contact with him and held it forcefully. "Trust him."
Harry's heart melted and his tense body relaxed as he took comfort in her logic. "You're right," he said, sheepishly smiling at her. His green eyes twinkled and the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a faint smile.
She nestled her head under the crook of his arm. He wrapped both arms around her and smiled to himself; a happy sensation glowing within him and warming him wholly.
If you are one for angels, imagine what they saw on that warm summer's eve: a pair of intertwined lovers, both smiling to themselves; unbeknownst of each other's bliss.
