New York [harry styles au]

30

30.
Dawn broke on a new day and I could hear birds harmoniously chirping away from our balcony. Soon enough, the chirping morphed into a harmony; beautiful enough that I remember it very clearly. It was now May. We had left April, but by mere hours. The clock read 6.40am and it took a while for anything to register in my mind about the night before. When the memories came flooding back, I didn't react, didn't begin hysterically crying like they do in the movies, didn't even sigh. I was numbed.

I turn my head, though sore from a rough night's sleep against the cabinet, to find Harry curled up in a small ball on the tiles. His head was deep in his hands and his back was against my leg. The mixture of numbness and tiredness overwhelm me, suddenly causing my eyes to shut once more and I enter slumber in a sea of anxiety-inducing darkness.

The next time I wake is at 7.30am and I know this because the clock was the first thing I glanced at. I then turned around to find Harry now rested on his knees, palms against his thighs, eyes blazing into mine, and I jump in reaction.

"We need to talk."

"Okay." I sit up from my strained position.

"Leave."

"What?"

"You need to leave, Winona, and never ever come back."

"What is this, Harry?" My eyes widen.

"I'm not letting you go to prison too, I'm not doing this to you. I won't allow it." He shakes his head, causing his hair to tremble too, peering at the floor before his eyes return to mine in a flash. "I love you."

"But I love you."

"I know you do, that's why it's going to be hard for the both of us." He moves over and wraps his comforting arms around me. "I'm sorry for all of this, but I'm sure as hell not sorry for falling in love with you."

I watch him carefully, wanting to savour this moment forever with fear of it being my last memory of Harry (it was).

"I've never loved somebody like I've loved you." I could smell his signature smell of mint mixed with the slight hint of whiskey but I favoured it deeply. His emerald eyes beamed into mine with furrowed eyebrows, and I wanted to do nothing more than reach out and delicately trace my fingers over them. I wanted to go back to how everything was back in the summer of 1972, the greatest year of my life. I wanted to believe 1972 was the greatest year of my life so far, but now it looked as though it was the only greatest year. This deeply saddened me, so much that words couldn't comprehend.

Harry stands up and puts his hand out towards me, I grasp it tightly and he pulls me up to my feet on the tiles. I lose all sense of what is going on as he gently pulls me towards the living space. His hand briefly disconnects from mine as he approaches the record player, soon Roy Orbison's In Dreams begins to play. I watch his fingers carefully turn the dial to the highest volume before he turns and clutches my waist, beginning to sway. The song was the only noise we could hear: even in our minds, in our world. His right hand reaches up and his fingers hold my chin, lightly prodding it upwards so I could fully face him.

"Remember the night I first saw you." He says and I chuckle slightly, yet simultaneously fill with sorrow. "You stood awkwardly at the door, Beatrix had just come back inside and I asked her who you were. I had never seen somebody so captivating. The way your hair –" He reached towards my hair, twirling it with his fingers as we moved, "- it just tumbled down behind you, and your lips –" His hand flew to my lips, his index finger tracing their plump shape, "- you had some sort of gloss over them. Your smile caught my eye, I could see the interest you had in Angelina."