labyrinth Δ harry styles

Door Forty-Three: Clean Slate

"IS THERE SOMETHING wrong?" I question, sitting up so he can look at me in the eye.

"Honestly no," he answers much quicker than I expected.

I nod my head and decide that I am not going to prod further. I come to the conclusion that maybe he's having a bad day.

"To be quite frank, I've been thinking a lot lately. Things have been changing around me as quickly as they've come and it's difficult trying to adjust."

I want to respond, but I think it's fair that I give him the floor.

"The day before yesterday, when we were talking, you asked about my family. It lead me to think about them again."

Internally, I sigh in relief. The direction of this conversation went in the complete opposite way I had initially expected. Harry's demeanor is about as still as a statue even after the words left his mouth. Could this mean he would want to see them again?

"It made me realize how much I really miss them."

"Beverly really did a number on you," I say to him, watching as he follows the clouds in the sky above us.

"For the first time in my life, I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to believe that the sweet girl-next-door I knew would cause such harm to both of us, and even you...all for a couple of prejudiced words online."

I usually have a lot of things to say, but for some reason I can't think of anything. I can't think of any words that might comfort him or pull him out of this dark place. Sometimes I wonder if I've been trying to play "Fixer-Upper" instead of actually trying to hear him out when he tells me deep and personal feelings like these. Would he ever tell me if I've crossed a line?

Harry is too deep in thought to meet my eyes, so I return to his embrace, nestling myself in the crook of his neck and curling my knees up to his chest. He deeply sighs before passing his fingers over my face. I can feel his eyes on me as he does so, gingerly tracing his fingertips over the curve of my jaw, and back up to the apples of my cheeks.

We sit like that for a few minutes, just soaking each other in, and enjoying each other's embrace. I can feel his pointer finger and his middle finger guide my chin to tilt upwards where his soft pink lips are waiting for me. Once they meet, they mush together and hold that way for a few seconds. I can feel myself sigh as any tension I had stored up in my body releases and dissolves into him. We share a few more passionate kisses before we part.

"If I were to call them right now, would you stay with me?" He asks me, referring to his mother and sister.

Without skipping a beat, I say, "Of course I will."

I look up to see Harry put in effort to make a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. I can only imagine what must be going through his head right now, and I'm hoping maybe I can bring him some sort of relief.

"But can you play more of your guitar before you call?" I ask with a small chuckle.

He chuckles in response—almost as if he knew I would ask—picking up the guitar from the cement and holding it over both of us, with the neck of the guitar crossing over my body.

"Play that song you were playing earlier. It sounded really pretty."

"Anything for you my love."

I watch as Harry's fingers curl around the neck of the guitar, his fingertips meticulously placed over certain frets. He takes a white pic and begins strumming, the tune soundly flowing into my ears. For almost the entirety of the song, he hummed the lyrics, choosing not to sing this time like he has many times before. The song played acoustically sounded so beautiful; If only I knew the lyrics. Maybe he could sing them to me one of these days. I doubt he'd reject the idea.