Song: 'Lay Me Down' - Sam Smith

-*-

Restless, I pace up and down. One minute I am cautious about the move I am about to make and repeatedly talk myself out of it. The next I am bombastic not to overthink this and just do it.

What-ifs bounce off my grey matter attempting to deter me but my renewed positivity fights back each time they try to take control. However, this personal battle of wills is sapping my confidence and I wish the taxi I booked over half an hour ago would hurry up! A text message has me peeking around the curtain to see my car has finally arrived. It is now or never and I choose now. I grab my purse from the table and snatch my coat off the bannister before rushing out the door.

The driver apologises for the delay but then it is Friday night peak time, what did I expect? The journey only takes ten minutes but all the way I breathe into the comforting lapels of my jacket. Earlier his coat was on top of mine on the end of the bannister and his scent lingers in the fibres. Am I doing the right thing? The what-ifs come flooding back but the car pulls up and I have the car door open before they can take hold. My security blanket is that I politely ask the driver to wait.

I duck my head as I get out of the car then straighten up to standing on the pavement. My hand grips the top of the door to steady myself as I glance up at the imposing white stucco house. Its vast windows look to be in complete darkness.

A distraction to my right draws my attention down the road. By contrast, light and noise emanate from inside of the Inn next door. A group of revellers pass by wearing Christmas hats and laughing joyfully. One male jokes, 'that boy band bloke supposedly lives here, let's see if he's in?' As they stagger by he presses the buzzer a few times before singing 'that's what makes you beautiful,' to his female companion. She pulls his arm and they saunter on.

The road veils itself in quiet once more. Only the running engine of my taxi and the dull beat of the music from the Inn fills the chilly air.

I pause at the black door and stare at the intercom. Passers-by have a habit of pressing the buzzer at all hours so he normally switches it off at night. What if? No! Just press the buzzer. But, what if? Just press the buzzer. What about? Press the goddamn buzzer, Tasha! I say to myself. My finger shakes as it hovers then presses down with certainty. I stand and wait. It is a big house but it is not that big. I wait some more. There is no answer. Shall I press it again? Yes. Still no answer, this cannot be happening. He is out. He went out.

"Whoa! Stop with pressing the buzzer!"

I mean, what an idiot I am. Of course he went out. He probably called some friends and is at a bar getting hopelessly drunk and all because of selfish me.

"Hello, who is there?"

Wait. He is not out. He is in. He is here. He is at home. He did not go out to drown his sorrows. He sounds tired. Was he in bed? Have I woken him up? He came straight home. What if he is not alone? Oh for goodness sake Tasha, you just finished with the guy. Yes he is Harry Styles but he only left your place like two hours ago. That would be fast work for even him or would it? He was so deflated when he left and he does not sound much better now. In fact he sounds annoyed."

"Hello, last chance, is there anyone there?"

Shit! I have had my finger on the buzzer this whole time.

"It's me, Ta-." I only have to say those words and I hear the click.

My spewing thoughts cease immediately, the silence replaced with only my nervous breaths fanning white through the night sky. Tentatively, I push the door whilst turning to wave at the driver who lifts his hand in acknowledgement and drives away. The money I gave him must have covered the waiting time.

I step inside and with my hands behind me, press my palms on the heavy black door and lean to push it securely closed. For just a split second I do not look up. I suck a deep breath in and blow it out, then raise my eyes towards the glow coming from the hallway. Light is shining through each of the small windowpanes of the closed French door, making squares of light on the ground outside. The other French door is open and when I finally have the courage to raise my chin, I see Harry is standing in the doorway, leaning against its frame and looking out at me.

He has obviously been asleep as he rubs one of his eyes with the palm of his hand. He is wearing only black jersey boxers and a white tee. The one that is so old and has holes along the bottom of it but he loves it. He says it is familiar and feels soft against his skin.

I hesitate for a moment trying to read his stance. I pull my lips into my mouth in contemplation. His arms are folded across his chest and his shoulders are hunched. If I go to him he will reject me? I remind myself he did open the door. I hesitate then go to reach out towards him but uncertain, I bring my shaking fingers back to rest uncertainly on my collarbone.

He does not move or say anything; he stands stock still just staring at me. I clench my fist at my sides, close my eyes tight to gather my confidence then flick them open again. I take one step forward making the gravel beneath my shoe crunch. His shoulders visibly relax. I bring the other foot to meet the first. He unfolds his arms letting them flop by his sides. My feet shift and I push off the door, rushing towards him. He steps out of the doorway onto the porch and opens his arms as I fly straight into them, flinging myself against him. Totally breathless, my sobs hit his shoulder.

"I am so sorry, I love you, Harry please forgive me."

We stand motionless in the doorway clinging to each other. He does not say a word. The nervous rise and fall of our chests is the only thing between. He nuzzles into my hair sucking in a huge breath before releasing it slowly. One arm is around my waist, the other under both my knees and with one swoop he is carrying me. He steps into the house and with a swift kick with his foot, he closes the door. His arm tightens around my body as he carries me up the two flights of stairs to the top floor of the house.

The bedroom is practically in darkness, apart from a small lamp on the floor shining up the wall on the far side of the room. Carefully, he places me down on the mattress. The sheets still ooze his warmth from where he has been sleeping.

One by one he unties my Converse, slips them off and drops them down on the floor by my coat by the bed. He walks over to the tallboy, pulls open a drawer and grabs his Harley tee from inside. He leans over me, hooks both his thumbs under the hem of my thick jumper and pulls it up and over my head. His hands reach behind me and he unclasps my bra, pulling it down my arms and tossing it on top of the ever-growing pile of my clothes on the floor. Keeping my arms up, he slips the tee over my head and pulls it down, his thumbs skimming down the sides of my body. Each time his fingertips make contact with my skin it reignites the familiar feelings inside of longing for him.

I realise my mind has wandered and I focus back on him. He leans over me; his arms are either side of my thighs, resting on the mattress holding his body weight. His face is now level with mine; green eyes look straight into my hazel ones. His eyes close then the slow strokes of his lashes open them. He brings his soft lips to mine, as close as they can be without touching. I sit completely still in a trance, unable to move. He inhales deeply but he does not kiss me.

His hands leave the mattress and find my shoulders and he guides me back until my head hits the softness of the pillows. He unbuttons my jeans, slides the zipper down and pulls them off. He folds my legs under the covers and pulls the duvet over me. His actions are measured, every movement is slow and gentle and taken in complete silence.

My eyes follow him as he walks around to his side of the bed. With the light flicked off, he lies beside me on top of the covers. He reaches for the throw at the end of the bed and he pulls it over him. A quick turn onto his side and he pulls me into him, planting a small kiss on the top of my head.

"Aren't you going to say anything", whispers from my confused mouth.

His hand strokes through my hair. "There is nothing to say, there is nothing to forgive. You are here, back in my arms, and that's all that matters to me."

-*-

Winter sun filters through the blinds. I remember how I love to wake up in his room. It has windows on three of its walls making it such a bright and happy space to wake up in. I have missed it.

Harry is no longer on top of the covers. At some point during the night he must have slipped into bed beside me. He rests on his front with both arms hugging his pillow. His curls are a mass of tangles but his breathing is even and relaxed like he has enjoyed a peaceful night's sleep.

Resting my head in the crook of my arm, I roll onto my side to admire his soft features. He stirs, sleepily unleashing crow's feet by just woken eyes through his smile. He regards me for a moment before cupping his hand at the side of my head and rubbing his thumb along my cheekbone. I close my eyes at his touch moving my face around to kiss the palm of his hand.

"Morning."

"Morning. You are still here," he puffs out. "That's the best night's sleep I've had in ages. I always sleep better when you are here." His voice is low and a hint of sadness remains. He rolls over onto his back.

"Natasha, I need to tell you something." He sounds serious as he places his forearm over his eyes. "I'm leaving for Madrid in a couple of hours."

"An hour!" I exclaim, pushing up to look directly at him.

"I was due to catch a much later flight but after what happened between us yesterday," he pauses and frowns before continuing, "I changed my flight as soon as I got home." He looks worried but carries on, "I cannot believe I've got to leave you just as I've got you back. We need to talk before I go. There's things I need to tell you," his voice is so tense trying to keep his emotions under control.

I recall last night when he did not kiss me and he has not kissed me this morning. It was always the very first thing he did every morning we were together previously. My heart sinks at the realisation that although I am here, because of my previous indecisiveness he still has doubts. I rest my hand on his chest and my chin on top.

"What have I done to you? I am so sorry."

Before I can continue he cuts in, "please, Natasha, stop apologising. I don't need you to be sorry. I need you to be sure, sure you've come back to me for good because I'm scared, so scared you are going to change your mind and be gone again when I return. I couldn't handle it if I lost you again."

The panic in his voice tells me that it is now my turn to be the strong one. Harry needs reassurance before he leaves. I knew our relationship was not just going to fall back into place with the click of my fingers. We are going to have to work at it and talk things through.

I smile and look him straight in the eyes. "I promise, I am not going anywhere."

He shakes his head looking downcast. "But you don't believe in promises."

"Perhaps it is time for a fresh start." I reach to kiss the Hummingbird tattoo over his heart. "Because, I believe in us."