The first thing that occurred to me when I woke up the next morning was the fact that I was alone.  There was no glorious body heat encasing my limbs like there had been the entire night.  The next thing I noticed was the fact that the sheets seemed to be damp, which confused me.  Finally, I noticed what should have probably been the most obvious: soft guitar music was drifting around the room in my own personal wake up song.  This song was different from the first time I had heard him play, but even more beautiful, if possible.  When I heard Harry’s quiet, deep voice singing along with the lulling music, I was convinced it was one hundred times more beautiful than anything I had ever heard. 

Taking extra care not to move and give myself away, I opened my eyes in the thinnest of slits to see Harry sitting on his desk chair across the room, his bare back to me as he quietly played the guitar.  I watched closely as the slim muscles in his forearm flexed with each chord change, his back flexed ever so slightly as he hunched over the instrument.  Once again, I was blown away by the sound of his voice; the gravel, the deep tones, the careful way he molded each word, and the emotion with which he sang were all intoxicating. 

I couldn’t hear all the words he was singing, but I caught the phrase, “Don’t let me go.”  My heart all but shattered in pain and swelled with happiness all at the same time.  I could feel the fear he must have experiencing down to my bones; the fear that someone he cared about, possibly loved, would leave him and he would be lost, leaving him crumbled and broken.  Apart from the bitingly sad part, though, was the beautiful meaning behind the fear: the desperate love that was enough to cause a person to fear being let go so much was evident.  You don’t fear losing something so much if you don’t love it with all your being, if you don’t love it enough to let it change your entire world.  

It was an emotion I was more than familiar with without even having realized it.  It was how I felt about Harry.  Every moment I spent with him, I found myself falling deeper and deeper into the all-consuming pit that was my life with him.  The deeper I fell, the harder it would be to dig myself out.  I knew that I had already developed feelings for Harry, strong, strong feelings, but this sudden realization took my breath away.  I love him.  I love Harry.

As soon as this realization hit me, I must have actually gasped audibly, because Harry jerked around on his chair to look at me.  Sure my thoughts were written all over my face, I quickly tried to compose myself before he noticed what was probably blatantly obvious.  Reigning in my thoughts, I grinned sheepishly at him and sat up, not trusting myself to speak.  I couldn’t tell him yet.  I had absolutely no idea if he felt anything close to what I did, and had to think everything over more before I blurted out something stupid.

“Eavesdropping again, I see,” he chuckled, smiling at me as he spun the chair around to face me.  My giggle that had started was cut short as my eyes scanned down his face and body.  He had removed the band-aid from his eyebrow and his bruises were much, much worse now than they had been last night.  The colors were darker, splotches wider, cuts more swollen.  I could feel my mouth open in surprise as I raised my hand up to cover my lips.

“Harry-“ I started before he cut me off.

“Joey, I know, they don’t look good, but I promise it doesn’t hurt,” he stated.

“Harry there is no way that doesn’t hurt,” I argued, eyebrows knitting together as I continued to search his body.

“Not as bad as it looks,” he admitted, putting his guitar down next to him.  “Now can we move on? I can’t take you babying me again,” he teased, smiling at me.

“I wasn’t babying you, you were hurt!” I exclaimed.  It frustrated me how lightly he seemed to be taking this.

“But I’m fine now,” he said simply, shrugging.  “I promise, I’m fine, okay?”

“Okay…” I sighed, resigning.  If he didn’t want to talk about it, we wouldn’t talk about it.  “Why is the bed… wet?”

“I think you have yourself to blame for that,” he said, grinning at me.  My mind immediately went straight to the gutter and I blushed.

“What?!” Surely I would remember if I had done anything to cause that.

“Your ice packs,” he explained innocently.  I couldn’t tell by the look on his face if he knew what I would think or if his word choice had merely been a coincidence.

“Oh,” was all I said. 

“They melted,” he explained further. 

“I see that,” I said, grinning at him.  “I’m glad you kept them on, at least.”

“I didn’t,” he said casually, scratching his shoulder absentmindedly. 

“Why not?”

“They were cold.”

“Oh, come on.  Baby,” I teased, grinning at him again.  He returned his own smile and shrugged again.  “Are you gonna keep playing for me?”

“I technically wasn’t playing for you.  You were eavesdropping.  Again,” he said, raising an eyebrow playfully at me.  His good eyebrow, that was. 

“It was hard not to when you were ten feet away from me,” I giggled.  “What was that song?”

“Oh… um, nothing,” he lied.

I stared at him.  “It was really good for ‘nothing.’”

“Erm… thanks,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze shyly to look at the floor.  I could see the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips despite his effort to hide it.

“So you wrote it?” I deduced, taking his acceptance of my compliment as confirmation.

“Um… I guess so, yeah,” he said, sneaking a quick glance up at me before averting his green eyes again.

“Can I hear the whole thing?” I asked quietly, bringing myself to sit on the end of his bed and closer to him in his chair.  He blushed before picking up the guitar again and twiddling at the strings, stalling and playing a few quiet notes.

“You really want to?” he asked quietly, finally making firm eye contact with me.  Always so shy.

“Yes,” I said simply, smiling encouragingly at him.

“I’m not very good,” he said immediately, trying to lower my expectations.

“Well I already know that’s a lie so just let me hear it,” I laughed, hoping to ease some of his obvious nerves.  He pushed his big hand through his hair before sighing.

“Fine, but don’t laugh,” he said sternly, frowning at me.

“I would never laugh, babe.”

He just nodded at me before closing his eyes briefly, collecting himself before strumming the strings with his long fingers, the chord he laid out on the frets ringing through the room.  His eyes focused on his knee as his foot absent-mindedly tapped to the rhythm of his song.  He took a deep breath before starting to sing.

Now you were standing there right in front of me, I hold on it's getting harder to breathe. All of a sudden these lights are blinding me. I never noticed how bright they would be.

I saw in the corner there is a photograph, no doubt in my mind it's a picture of you. It lies there alone in its bed of broken glass. This bed was never made for two

I'll keep my eyes wide open, I'll keep my arms wide open. Don't let me, don't let me, don't let me go, 'cause I'm tired of feeling alone.

Don't let me, don't let me go, 'cause I'm tired of feeling alone

I promised one day that I'd bring you back a star, I caught one and it burned a hole in my hand oh. Seems like these days I watch you from afar, just trying to make you understand.

I'll keep my eyes wide open yeah

Don't let me, don't let me, don't let me go, 'cause I'm tired of feeling alone.

Don't let me, don't let me, don't let me go, 'cause I'm tired of feeling alone.

Don't let me, don't let me, don't let me go, 'cause I'm tired of feeling alone.

Don't let me, don't let me, don't let me go, 'cause I'm tired of feeling alone.

Don’t let me,

Don't let me go,

'Cause I'm tired of sleeping alone.

When he strummed the last note, he waited until the last reverberations of the sound disappeared from the space around us before slowly bringing his eyes up to meet mine.  I could not believe what I had just heard; the song was so incredibly beautiful and desperately haunting all at the same time.  It was full of so many different emotions, and I knew that would it forever be playing in my head and felt in my heart.  It was played by Harry, sung by Harry, written by Harry. 

I wasn’t sure which had affected me the most, but I couldn’t control the wave of emotion sweeping through me.  A tear I wasn’t aware of streaked down my cheek, escaping from my eye before I could even think to catch it.  His face looked nervous, unsure of what I would say.  He cleared his throat awkwardly as his fingers fidgeted with the strings again, scared that I hadn’t liked it.  And I hadn’t.  I had loved it.

I know it's a bit cheesy but I couldn't resist, he just had to sing it to her.  Thank you guys again so much for reading and voting and commenting, on here and on twitter! I really, really appreciate it and all of the support :) x