Pack yourself a toothbrush, dear

chapter thirteen

"Do you think it was selfish of Rachel Green to leave Barry ?" I lolled lazily, eyes almost burning with the amount of television I've binged in the day, shuffling to find the utmost level of comfort for my head on Harry's thigh. A lot of squish and a bit of sturdiness, for support. Perfect. 

Harry picked up the remote and paused the blaring television, where Rachel Green had just swooped in inside Central Perk with her fingers pinching up her wedding dress. I loved this scene, I had loved it even before I became an avid viewer of the sitcom due to the influence of Harry. It's the pinnacle of change and how it can totally shift your life, and well, Chandler's at his best here. 

But the entire guilty running away from wedding, leaving a partner stranded thing is kind of making me antsy right now. When did I become Rachel Green, with a Barry waiting for me at the alter ? 

"Is that even a question ?" Harry muses, raising his coffee mug  to his lips to sip on the cheap champagne from the shop across the street. This is a Shakespearean tragedy. "Obviously yes, but for all the right reasons. I don't know why she did it exactly,  people aren't perfect and emotions don't always make sense or follow logically. But then, Barry obviously didn't give much of a fuck, and Rachel learnt to be independent, she got herself a job, found love again, in Ross, in that Italian guy, in even, Joey. And she found really great friends, and a kid too. Totally good decision on her part."

He smiles at me warmly and ruffles my hair. Makes sense, but-

"Maybe Barry was indeed heartbroken, we never  get to see his perspective." I retort, chuckling sadly "I mean, sure he moves on with that bridesmaid but maybe he did it as a rebound thing, I don't know-"

"Here's the thing" He picks up the remote again and fast forwards past multiple frames, till he reaches one where Rachel's in the kitchen, talking on the phone. She paces around as she speaks,  Daddy! Daddy listen to me! It's like all my life everyone's told me, "You're a shoe! You're a shoe! You're a shoe!" Well, what if I don't want to be a shoe? What if I wanna be a purse or a hat? No I don't want you to buy me a hat, I'm saying I am a hat. It's a metaphor Daddy!

He pauses again and purses his lips, "She was just, you know, forced to be molded into a particular shape. Maybe it was not her, maybe the wedding was just a push towards her realization. God knows it saved Barry from a half heart-ed wedding. He'll move on and find better love, full heart-ed love, if that makes sense." 

It did, it does. I'm am in fact Rachel Green, I mean, I found myself better company, a sense of independence, the pleasure of doing things my own way and, Harry. It got me Harry, it got me heart palpitation and cold sweat, but also, the comfort and warmth of waking up beside someone I found safe. In Friends terminology I would say he's my lobster. 

"I love you." I softly whisper back, my eyes trailing back to meet his. I think I'm a kind of (read; insanely) obsessed with his face; the softness and yet the sharp edges of it all, the glow and the warmth. I think I'm drawn to it when it's hazy with morning sleep, and also, when it's almost a tint of blue from the television glare. There's nothing more beautiful than Harry. He's angelic. 

"Will you ever get married again ?" He questions, pulling at a few strands of stay hair near my ear. "Wait, no, like married. period. you aren't married now, phew." He corrects himself and rambles on, playing with my hair. 

"I don't know, maybe. It's not like I'm looking for someone, if I happen to find someone, that is." I hummed, holding back a smug grin. Harry's face changes, minutely so, there's a clench to his jaw and an almost negligible eye brow raise before he manages to hold himself back. He's so transparent, it's humorous. 

"Oh, really ?" He adds, lips curling down. 

"Yeah, to think of it, I'm fond of a certain curly haired boy but I don't want to jinx it yet." And his face brightens up again, he dances his fingers across my face.