"In Greek, "nostalgia" literally means "the pain from an old wound". It's a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn't a spaceship, it's a time machine. It goes backwards and forwards, it takes us to a place where we ache to go again."

- Unknown

* * *

"I nearly called you over last night, Jesy," she explains lowly as she leads her friend into the store. "Thunder? Here? It was so loud I thought my house was gonna come down."

"Well, it didn't," Jesy explains with a small smile and eye-roll; Leigh could be so dramatic. It was only a thunderstorm. "And you know you were more than welcome to come over."

"And do what? Sleep between you and Niall?"

A young blonde looks up from behind the front counter of the shop. "I'll be right with you, ladies."

Leigh smiles, offering a curt nod in response.

"I'm sure he wouldn'tve minded," is Jesy's whispered reply, and now it's Leigh's turn to scoff and shake her head.

"Thanks but no thanks, Jes," she chuckles over Jesy's laughter.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

Leigh approaches the desk.

"Yes, um," she reads the young woman's name-tag, "Daisy. I've got an appointment today," she nods. "Should be under Pinnock."

Sounds of clicking and typing fill the room, as Daisy checks the small shop's databases.

Jesy snorts beside her. "Still using your maiden name, I see."

"Last time I checked, I wasn't married yet, Jes."

Daisy coughs to cover up a laugh. "Miss Pinnock?"

Leigh-Anne hums.

"Right this way."

"Shouldn't someone else be here doing this with ya? Y'know, someone who's name starts with a J and ends with an 'ordan?'" Jesy begins as one by one, small cubes of cakes are set before the girls to try. "Shouldn't I be surprised by this selection at the wedding?"

"Wow. Fine, then. Next time, I'll ask Jade and leave you out of it."

"All I'm saying's, that the bride and groom-to-be are supposed to be doing this stuff together. Not the bride and whoever she can find."

"Wow," Leigh exclaims, scoffing. "The Maid of Honor should come to most things, don't you think?"

"Don't you think that the fiancé should at least show up to, I don't know, something?"

Leigh takes a deep breath. Since the engagement, Jesy's been dropping subtle hints; leaving snide comments here and there about Jordan...all pertaining to the wedding.

She's not an idiot.

"Alright," she says, fingering the fork beside him. "I am literally giving you the next three minutes to say whatever you've got to say about me getting married, and then, that's it. That's it," she says. "You'd better not disrupt the peace on the day of, I swear."

"What?" Jesy bats her eyes, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Jesy," she warns. "Do not make me regret this."

"Well, since you've asked..."

Leigh rolls her eyes.

Jesy folds her arms. "You aren't happy."

"Jes!"

"I mean it, Leigh! You've been my best friend for years. I think I would know if you were lying or not."

She rolls her eyes. "Jes..."

"You're not. Don't try to pretend that you are, either," and she sighs. " You can love someone and not be in love with them, Leigh. I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy."

"You aren't, Leigh," the brunette explains, and she shakes her thick head of hair, pushing the cake in front of her to the side so she can rest her weight upon her elbows. "Remember when Jade was getting married? Do you remember the months leading up to that wedding?"

Leigh snorts. "How could I forget? She called it off like, six times."

"And Perrie? She and Zayn've been engaged for centuries at this point-"

"Centuries?" Even Leigh has to smile. "A bit dramatic, innit?"

"Ah, you know it's true. And Pez isn't here to say otherwise."

"What's the point, Jes?"

"The point, Leigh, is that there are two options for you. You could be like Jade and Liam, who, despite breaking up and making up and breaking up and making up and-"

"I get it, Jes!"

"And making up again," she grins, "they come together again and again because they really can't live without the other. Or, you could be like Perrie and Zayn, who're still together because they're scared of being alone, despite knowing deep down that they've fallen out of love."

Leigh turns, biting at her lip. This has become a bit deeper than she'd assumed, coming from Jesy.

"Jes..."

"I'm just saying, Leigh," she exclaims, grabbing her hand, "because I love you and I love Jordan, but I want you to have your Happily Ever After, and-"

"You don't think it's possible," she states, eyebrow raised. "You're telling me 'cause you don't think it's possible for me to do that with him?"

"Honestly, lovie," Jesy shrugs, "Only you can answer that. I love you, Leigh, but only you can figure out what it is you really want."

This is not the first time Leigh has heard these words.

"You're really going through with it, eh?"

"And it's so nice to see you too, Gem," Leigh snorted, just the week before, at a beachside restaurant in Malibu. "I do love when you come visit."

"Of course you do," she grinned, fanning herself. "Although I must say, I'm rather disappointed that I have to find out you're getting married through my mum. Really, Leigh? Really?"

Leigh laughed. "You chose to ignore my wedding invitation. You and Harry."

"And you wonder why?"

Leigh lifted a brow. "Why?"

Gemma dismissed her with a flick of her wrist. "You're getting married, Leigh! You're getting married and you've barely made it to twenty-five..." She sniffed. "It's like just yesterday you and Haz were running naked through the flat-"

"Oh-kay," Leigh exclaimed, as Gemma burst into laughter. "We were barely four, Gem. Let's not hold that over my head."

"Oh, Leigh," she sighed, "that was so fun. We've had so much fun, haven't we?"

"Of course," Leigh'd replied, because her entire childhood, her entire adolescence, her entire life had practically been spent beside one or both of the Styles.

And then Gemma had stared at her, her green eyes searching her face. The warm air had blown back freshly dyed blonde hair and Leigh had sat, waiting patiently because Gemma was just like her brother and Leigh knew that something was coming.

"I miss you, Leigh."

She'd reached across the table, taking her hand. "I miss you too, Gem."

"But, I really do mean it," the young woman continued. "It's been too long. I shouldn't have to fly across the world to see you, yeah? It's been ages since you've seen my mum."

It had been ages since she'd seen her own.

"What happened to you coming home?"

"About that, actually-"

"And you haven't talked to Harry in months," Gemma had lifted a brow at the same time as Leigh-Anne. "Why havent you spoken to my brother? You're never not speaking to my brother?"

_

And now, Leigh pulls from the cake shop, waving goodbye to Jesy.

It's a warm, seventy five degrees in Los Angeles, far from the dreary grey skies she'd be accustomed to in London. She missed that promise of rain and tease of snow. She missed the bleak skies because it was December, and December meant Christmas, and one thing Los Angeles did not do well was Christmas.

It was far too hot.

Leigh has been thinking of home a lot, lately.

Just a week before Jordan had proposed, her boss had done the same.

"We've got a spot out in our London firm, Leigh-Anne," he'd said. "And I think you'd be the perfect candidate for the position. It comes with a raise and a relocation," he'd winked. "Think about it."

Leigh has been thinking about it.

She's been thinking about it a lot.

Because not only does she miss her mother and father and sister and all of the friends and familiarity she'd left behind when she was eighteen, but she misses the grey skies and promise of rain and the feeling of Christmas in the air, because ultimately, it is just too bright and too sunny and too beautiful to be a proper Christmas in Los Angeles.

And the only thing keeping Leigh from London, the only thing that has been keeping her from returning home, has been her fiancé, Jordan.

He travels.

He travels a lot.

In fact, most of the year he spends travelling. It's just how soccer works. It's how professional sports work, and his season permits from being home and mostly, being with her.

But, Leigh-Anne is strong.

And because she is strong, how much she is bothered by this long-distance goes unexpressed, and has gone unexpressed since Jordan first flew off for his first season in Canada.

Despite her strength, however, Leigh-Anne is lonely, and she has been lonely since her Senior year in college when Jordan was traded from the L.A. Galaxy to Victoria United, a Canadian club team. And Leigh, using her new job at a Public Relations Firm as an excuse not to move to Canada, first suggested a long-distance relationship, because how could she throw the four perfect years they'd spent together in college, away?

And that's what they did.

That's how they'd been living, with one or the other flying back and forth to see the other, because that's how long-distance worked, didn't it?

So now, as Leigh drives through the winding streets of Hollywood, she wonders one thing.

What does she want?

She wants someone to talk to. She wants to talk to her mom or Anne, because that was as close to her mother as she could get. She wants to talk to Harry, because one thing they did well, was talk. Despite their time differences and despite the ocean separating them, they had always found time for the other. That much hadn't changed, and for that, she was grateful. She was grateful that despite his successes and his distance and his job, he still found time to dote on her and worry excessively and speak to her at least once, if not more, each day.

Well, he had, at least.

She'd sent her wedding invitation and he'd gone cold. The calls stopped coming. The texts became more infrequent.

What does Leigh-Anne want? She wants her best friend to grow up and stop ignoring her. If he doesn't want her to get married then damn it, she wants him to be honest and fucking tell her why.

No one else had any problems expressing their opinion, she sniffs bitterly. Why the hell should he?

And Leigh gets back to work and continues to wonder.

What she wants, is to be with someone who she can be herself with. She wants someone who will cuddle with her when it storms and kills the spiders. She wants someone who will stay up all night with her because her company is more important than sleep.

The day ends and Leigh continues to wonder.

She wants London and the rain and a real Christmas, she decides as she gets back into her car after the day has ended. She wants to go home.

Leigh-Anne wants to go home.

The thought settles in her heart and feels right. She's got to go home. Leigh needs the love and the familiarity and the prolonged drizzle.

And she makes it back to the gigantic house she shares with her fiancé and kicks off her shoes at the door. She sighs, shuffling into the kitchen and wondering instantly if she should invite Jesy and Niall over for dinner, because she is more than a little tired of eating alone.

She digs through the pantries, pulling out noodles and tomato sauce and assorted spices, because she's in the mood for spaghetti, when her phone rings.

She answers it instantly.

"Hi, babe," she grins.

"Leigh," Jordan breathes. "God, it feels so good to hear your voice."

She giggles. She can't help it. "Yours too."

"You sound good, Leigh. How was work today, baby?"

"Oh, y'know," Leigh-Anne shrugs. And then she shakes her head, "Actually," she begins, "that was kind of something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh, really?" He asks. "What about it?"

"Well, Mr. Reilly came to me a while back and asked if I was interested in moving back to..."

And like that, the doorbell rings.

"What was that?"

"The door," Leigh replies, wiping her hands off on a towel and hurrying from the kitchen.

"You invite someone over?"

"Not that I can recall," she replies, racing towards the door as the bell sounds again.

"Alright...Be careful, babe."

"I will," she laughs, rolling her eyes as she stands on her toes in the gigantic foyer, peering through the peephole and smiling. She laughs louder. "Babe, wait," she grins, throwing open the door. "It's Harry."

"Harry?"

"Harry," Leigh exclaims, mostly to the man himself, who stands with a smirk, suitcase in hand.

He waves, that familiar lopsided grin plastered across his face. "I heard someone was getting married."

Leigh is shocked. She's excited, but she's shocked. Her heart is hammering and she feels like she might cry, but she's frozen in the door with a smile, as both Harry and Jordan continue to talk to her.

"Leigh? Leigh-Anne? Are you still there?"

"Aren't you gonna let me in, Leigh?"

"Oh my gosh," she shakes her head and Harry smiles to himself because he is the one who can see. "Oh wow, yes," she replies, answering them both. Leigh steps out of the way, watching as Harry wheels his single piece of luggage into her foyer. "Yes, of course."

"So," Jordan begins, "What's he doing there?"

"Good question," Leigh replies. "Harry," she begins, "as much as I love you and your," she pauses, "many surprises," he smirks, "What are you doing here?"

He turns abruptly. "It's about time I've visited, right?"

Leigh shrugs. She can't argue there.

"What'd he say?"

"Except you've been ignoring me," Leigh snaps, ignoring the question Jordan has posed. What's new? She's talking to Harry, "Haven't heard from you in weeks, Harry! Now, now you just show up?"

He grins cheekily. "Surprise."

"Oh, you're impossible."

"Only for you, love," and he points to her phone. "Who is it?"

"Jordan," she replies.

"Well," Harry clears his throat. "Tell him I said 'Hello,' then, yeah?"

"Harry says 'Hi,'" she grins.

"Well, you tell him I said to take care of you while I'm gone."

"He says to take care of me, Harry."

And Harry only grins, poking Leigh-Anne in her cheek. She slaps his hand away, despite the smile stretching wider upon her face.

"Tell him," Harry grins, throwing his hand over her shoulder, "that it would be my absolute pleasure."

***

Leigh, I think I've been slowly losing my mind without you.
We haven't spoken in weeks, and I know. I know it's my fault. It is,
but I fear I will forget how it feels to be wrapped up in you...
It's been too long that I've said I'm happy and meant it.
I am a million miles away and tired of waking up so empty...

This was one draft of the speech Harry had written during the near twelve hour flight from Heathrow into LAX.

This speech changed at least twenty times, and then completely flew out of the window when Leigh-Anne opened the door and every word, every line he'd rewritten and memorized completely evaporated into the warm California air.

Because she was smiling.

And it was one thing to hear her voice, but it was another to see that beautiful smile stretched across that face.

"Yeah, uh huh," she continues, motioning for her to follow as she continues her conversation with her boyfriend - her fiancé, "Okay. Love you, too," she says, and Harry's heart thuds painfully in his chest, "Bye, babe."

But, she hangs up, and Harry grins at her again because now it's just them, and now he gets the opportunity to explain why it should just be them, the two of them, like it had been, and how it should be... forever.

"So," he says, clapping his hands together, "smells like pasta."

"You'd be right about that, Mr. Styles," Leigh grins, and Harry pokes her face again because she's excited to see him. She looks like she did when she was little and it was her birthday and he had presents to give. "Now, come," she says, motioning for him to follow through her gigantic home towards the kitchen, "Since you're here, you get to help me cook."

_

"Saw Leigh today," Gemma had told him just hours after she'd sat down and had lunch with Leigh-Anne at their seaside restaurant in Malibu.

Harry had been finishing work before bed when she'd said this. He'd been tired before, exhausted even, from the day before, and this statement alone had kept him from finding the time difference between them as an excuse to hang up. "Yeah?"

"She misses you."

Harry had rolled his eyes, sitting up in bed. Gemma was good at that; using short, pointed sentences to string him along without truly getting to the crux of her point. "And? What'd she say, Gem?"

"You'd know if you talked to her," came the reply. "I mean really, Harry? You decide now, while she's planning the most important day of her life, not to talk to her? I mean, honestly, Haz. What kind of best friend are you?"

He'd grit his teeth, staring angrily across his bedroom. "Stop, Gem."

"What? What's wrong?"

"Just drop it, Gemma. Please."

"Drop what? The wedding? Leigh-Anne's wedding?? Your best friend's wedding to someone else? I mean, Harry. Honestly. Why should I?" And Gemma had paused. " You are her best friend, aren't you?"

"Gem."

"What, Harry? That's what Leigh thinks, isn't it? Doesn't matter what I know if she doesn't, yeah?"

And this conversation had Harry wide awake at midnight.

First off, he was being a pretty awful best friend, considering how he had been ignoring Leigh.

Secondly, he was pretty sick of being known solely as the 'best friend.'

And at this rate, he'd probably die watching her get married to someone else. Harry would probably rather die than watch her with someone else, when he'd been waiting for the right moment to tell Leigh how he'd felt about her. Harry had been waiting now, for six years.

Harry had done more than enough waiting.

And this conversation at midnight had Harry searching for plane tickets.

Tickets to Los Angeles.

_

"So...?"

Leigh smirks, eyes never leaving the tomatoes upon her cutting board. "So?"

"So," Harry clears his throat again. "So, how's the wedding planning going?"

Leigh-Anne fights the urge to ask, "So, now you care?"

Instead, she rolls her eyes. "Just peachy."

"That great, huh?"

"Well," she cuts with more force, "it'd be a bit easier if my friends were more supportive, and, almost forgot," she exclaims, "it'd help too if my fiancé were actually here. So yeah," she nods. "It's that great."

Harry's hair hides a smile.

"And, there you go," Leigh snorts, "smiling."

He deadpans. "I wasn't smiling."

She stops cutting, hands upon her hips. "Are you gonna tell me why you're smiling?"

God, he could never hide anything from her.

Still can't, apparently.

So, he shrugs .

"Never," he says.

And Leigh laughs.

It's a full laugh; one that's got her clutching her stomach and closing her eyes, and it actually surprises Harry how hard she's laughing. He hadn't exactly intended to be funny.

He grabs for butter, a smirk on his face. "What?"

"Ah," she chuckles, "I've..." She shakes her head, "I'm so angry with you right now."

Harry's jaw falls. "What? Why?"

"Because," Leigh-Anne exclaims, punching his arm. He yelps. "The past month and a half has been unbearably stressful, and it really shouldn'tve been, should it? I mean, I'm getting married, for Christ' Sakes! And now, it's like no one wants me to do that," she narrows her eyes, "Evidence made clear by your silence, Haz."

Harry runs his hand over his neck. He blushes, "About that..."

Leigh-Anne scoffs, chopping vegetables with more force. "And now, you've got an excuse..."

"Honestly, Leigh, I didn't know what to say," he exclaims. "It was all so...so, sudden."

Leigh turns abruptly. "We've been dating for six years, Harry; Jordan and I."

"And you could've been dating for twenty and I'd still think it was too soon to get married," he says, adding quickly, "You're only twenty-three, Leigh."

"Well, you couldn'tve said that before?"

"I-I didn't know how you'd take it!" He lies.

"Right. Sure," she could always tell when he was lying.  "All these years of honesty and you choose now to withhold the truth?"

"My opinion matters to you that much?"

"Of course it does," Leigh-Anne practically laughs, and Harry very, very poorly hides a smile.

Leigh catches sight of that grin in the corner of her eye and shakes her head, sighing as she pours the vegetables she's chopped into the pot of tomato sauce. "Don't look so damn happy."

"Can't help it," Harry replies honestly. He giggles, "I really can't."

Leigh sighs, and she falls silent, the only sounds in the kitchen coming from the pots and knives and pasta preparation.

"I've missed you," she says at once, not bothering to look at him as she stirs the sauce. And she wrinkles her nose because Harry's grinning. "Even though I hate you."

Harry snorts a bit.

"All jokes aside," she continues, "I really have. I've missed your voice in my ear, in my head," she says, grinning. "S'weird how I can barely go a day without you, isn't it? Pathetic, right?"

"Not pathetic," Harry replies. "I'm the same, really. God, I've missed you so much, Leigh," he sighs, and Leigh doesn't say, "You're just saying that," because he sounds so honest and she can always tell when he isn't being honest. "I can't believe," he pauses, and Leigh waits because she's used to Harry and his insanely slow speech. "I can't believe this is the first time I've been down here, honestly."

"I can't believe I haven't been home," Leigh replies sadly. "I miss it."

"You've been busy," he says. "We all have."

"That is the lie I keep telling myself," Leigh chuckles, sighing. "I just wish I could keep believing it, though."

And Harry falls silent. She isn't the only one making excuses. It's been years since she'd left, and despite talking to her, now is the first time he's seen her. And he hadn't come to see Leigh because sure, he's been busy. Sure, he's had work, but mostly, he's been afraid. He's been afraid of seeing her and her not needing him. He's been afraid of seeing her and she was different. He's been afraid of seeing her and their friendship hadn't survived the distance.

"Well, enough of that," Leigh says, that sad smile still on her face. And she shakes her head, somehow attempting to put on a brave face and erase the sadness, because that was Leigh-Anne, and that's how she'd always been, and that's how Harry always knew her to be.

"Leigh..." He begins, because for once he wishes she'd let someone else carry her burden. For once in her life, he wishes she'd let her walls come down, at least for him.

But, she's smiling again, although Harry is not phased by this facade. "How 'bout you get plates, eh? Dinner's nearly ready."

And Harry's eyes are on Leigh-Anne as she instructs him to the cupboards to pull plates and cups and silverware, and despite everything, Harry loves that he's able to pull dish-ware for two, and he loves that he's not eating alone, tonight.

"How do you reach anything?" He teases, as he stretches his arm to grab plates.

"Very funny!" She scoffs. "I'm not that short."

"Really? Really?" He stands, pressing himself against her. "Really, Leigh-Anne?"

She shoves him. "I used to be taller than you."

"What? Never."

Leigh gasps. "You're lying! I was definitely taller. From like, ten until fifteen, I was-"

"Fifteen?" Harry laughs aloud. "Leigh, you're mad."

"Am not! If I call Gem right now I know she'll vouch."

"Because she's a liar," Harry snorts, pressing himself against her, wrapping his arms around her waist "And it doesn't matter anyway since I'm way taller, so ha."

"It's because you're always in boots," Leigh huffs. "It's really not fair if you think about it."

"Right," he laughs. "Okay, Leigh-Anne. That's it, love. That's it."

"Hush, Harry."

And as the night continues, Harry eats and washes dishes and does ordinary things with a young woman who makes those mundane tasks feel like they've always felt with her: fun. He's been laughing and joking and he's gotten wet and he's been slapped multiple times with a dish towel. He's made her giggle and scream and while she hasn't exactly forgiven him for icing her out, he's thinking that those unspoken words have been communicated through her soft smiles and stolen glances.

She's got to feel this, too.

Harry becomes more confident as the night rolls on. His initial fears of a lifetime of friendship not surviving the distance is quickly erased by their easy banter and reminiscent conversation. It's amazing, how he can feel so comfortable in a house not his. It's amazing, how time seems to have changed nothing. It's amazing, Harry thinks, how perfectly in love with this girl, this best friend, that he is.

And late that night, at around 8 AM in London, Harry is far from being able to fall asleep, not only because of the time difference, but because he hears the faintest of noises filtering from downstairs of Leigh-Anne's gigantic house.

And so he gets up.

And he walks towards the noise.

And he finds Leigh in the kitchen.

She's sitting at the island, her curly hair down around her shoulders; one hand fingering her curls, the other dipping chocolate chip cookies into a glass of milk.

She looks up, meets his eye and smiles.

"Can't sleep?"

He shakes his head. "Time change."

She nods, a comfortable silence falling between them. That was the thing, words, often, were just not needed.

He sits beside her, watching as she dips the chocolate chip cookies into the tall glass before her.

"What're you doing up?" He asks, taking a cookie from her plate and breaking it in half.

She slides him the milk.

"Can't sleep either."

"Obviously."

She laughs. "There's just...There's a lot on my mind, I guess."

He dips his cookie, eyes searching her face. "Like what?"

Leigh sighs. "I don't..."

"Don't tell me you don't know," Harry says, "when I know you do."

Leigh shakes her head, chuckling tiredly. "There you go, worrying about me, again."

"Can't help it," he shrugs. "I'll probably worry about you until I die, and if you're still alive once I'm gone, I'll still worry and haunt you as a ghost."

Leigh chuckles. "I'm a big girl, Harry."

"I know," he replies, as a wave of nostalgia takes him back to his bed on prom night. "But, you're mine, and you know me. I worry," and Harry gulps as he watches Leigh look away, staring across the dark kitchen.

He adds, "Might as well tell me how you're feeling, yeah?"

Leigh grins, "Wipe that cheeky grin off your face, Styles."

He bites his lip, reaching for a cookie. "Talk to me, Leigh."

"I just...I don't know anything," she whines. "I mean, I do, I guess. Today's just...It's been so confusing. I'm so confused. This house -- It's so cold. It's so big, y'see? Do you know," she laughs, a bit bitterly, he thinks, "You know that on most nights, I'm up like this? I sit here and stuff my face at hours like this more than I'd like to admit, honestly."

And Harry nods, because although he's in a flat in the city, two bedrooms seems to be too big when you're the only one in the place.

"I guess...I guess what I'm trying to say's that..."

Harry chews slowly, waiting.

"I'm tired of being alone, Harry," she sighs, and his heart breaks a little at the sight of her furrowed brows and pout. "I can't live like this. I miss the rain. I want Christmas, I don't know..."

He wipes his hands. "Can I tell you something?"

She laughs, "Of course."

"I used to think," he gulps. He feels like he's eighteen again, "I used to think that home was wherever you were. I didn't care where I was s'long as you were with me."

Leigh grins. "Same."

He forces himself to meet her gaze. "Still think that, if I'm being honest."

She chuckles. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not," he replies. "At all, actually. And, in fact," he continues, running a hand through his hair, "I cannot tell you how much different I feel being with you, here," his eyes meet hers, "right now."

"Different? Different, how?"

"Different, better," he laughs, "If that even makes sense..."

Leigh meets his gaze, waiting for him to continue.

"Different because," his lips are dry all of a sudden, "because when I'm home and by myself I don't feel anywhere near as warm as I do when I'm with you."

A smile grows upon Leigh's face.

"So I say," Harry grins lopsidedly, dimple popping, "I say we make it feel like Christmas in here. Let's decorate, I dunno..."

"Yes," Leigh-Anne exclaims. "I haven't done that in years-"

"What?" Harry lifts a brow. "That used to be your favorite thing as a kid," he says, since she'd finish her own house and help him and Gemma with theirs. "We need a tree and everything, then," he states. "It'll take your mind off of things, and I'll-"

Leigh twirls a piece of hair around her finger. "You'll stay?" She asks. "Like, I mean, through the holidays, yeah? You'll be here with me?"

And Harry opens his arms to her. "What'd you think I came for, Leigh?"

Leigh rises from her seat, snaking her arms around Harry's torso, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Her voice is muffled in the fabric of his shirt. "I'm really glad you're here, Hazza."

He kisses her head, holding her close, playing softly in her curls. She smells like soap and cinnamon and cookie, and it takes everything within him to not take this opportunity to tell her how he feels.

How he really feels.

Another time, then.

"Anything, Leigh" he says instead. He kisses her again. "You've got to know by now that I'd do anything for you."

__

look what i've done! i updated this; hooray!

lol comment and vote bc i'm curious to hear all of your reactions ect. to this. i tried to make it long. the next chap (or whatever this is) has more of leigharry doing cute christmassy stuff. yay. <3

xx.