Adventures Without Maeve

3.

This is an updated chapter

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It's Harry's first night sleeping alone, and it might sound insane to some, because yeah, he sleeps alone on tour all of the time. That's different, though. When he's home, in London, the house that was theirs, he has never slept there alone. Not since he's been with Maeve. He never thought he would be afraid to sleep alone, but here he is. TV on to distract him, or maybe tire him to the point that he passes out as soon as he turn it off. It works, though.

'Hey,' She smiles at Harry. He can see the sun coming up through the window behind her. They're in New York, he thinks. Their apartment on 5th. 'it's early.'

'Why are you up so early?' Harry raises an eyebrow.

'I miss hearing your morning voice.' She frowns a little, but then smiles as she looks up at him. 'I couldn't sleep well.' Harry can't even place what day it is, but he's thinking that they must be in the middle of a tour. Maeve is here with him in New York, she must have flew out to stay with him, and that's why she said she missed his morning voice.

'Well, you're hearing it now.' Harry rubs his thumb over her cheek. 'And I'll call you every morning just so you can hear, yeah? You've never told me that you've missed it before.'

'Never know how much you love something until it's gone I guess.' Maeve's eyes are filling up with tears when she says it. Harry sits up and pulls her close to him.

'Talk to me, yeah? Tell me what's going on.'

'I hate this, I never knew how horrible it was to be the one who had to do this until I was the one. You never realize, I wish you remembered. Everything. Now and then. I wish this all made sense.' She's crying now, burying her face in his shirt.

'I'm not following, Maeve.' He says, running a hand through her hair.

'That's the problem.' She looks up at him and kisses him gently.

'Again?' Harry sighs and rests his lips against her forehead.

'Again.' She sighs.

'Why can't I remember?'

'I'm not sure, you think I would know but I don't.'

'And why does all of this feel so real to me? As if I can still taste you on my lips when I wake up.' Harry raises an eyebrow, looking down at her.

'Because it is, Harry. It's hard to understand now, I know. But I have something to help you. You need to go to my mum's house, okay? Go up to my room, there is a box full of journals and notebooks, you need to take them. The rest are in our house in the back of my closet. Read them. Read them all. It will help you understand.'

'Understand what exactly?'

'This. All of this.' Maeve frowns. 'I love you, yeah?' And here it comes, the worst part of it. She does right in Harry's arms. Face going pale, lips turning blue. Harry screams and screams, and then suddenly he is looking at the wall in his bedroom.

It's morning now, the sun is shining on the pillow next to him. It seems like beautiful weather for London, but Harry feels like he has a cloud over him. Are these dreams going to be every night now? Continuously watching Maeve die. Having no sleep at all would be better than that. He tries to push it out of his mind for now, because Maeve actually gave him a task. Assuming that what she said in the dream is real, and that the notebooks will be in her closet.

He checks her closet at their house first, and sure enough in the back hidden under a blanket sits a whole book full of notebooks and journals. The dream was real, Maeve was real. At least in some way. That means he has to get to her mom's house and get them. He's praying that Cheryl will tell him that it's fine to take what he wants, but who knows with her. She changes like the wind. He gets dressed, nothing like what he usually wears. No see through tops, or half unbuttoned shirts. No, these days all he wears is sweatpants and hoodies. It's all he can manage to do, really. Picking out outfits seems like such a waste of energy these days. He slips his tennis shoes and makes his way to his car.