Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

Harry’s POV

Once we set a foot in the venue we learnt everything had gone wrong. Behind her cold exterior, Victoria, the wedding planner, was hardly holding on, but the situation pushed Niall to the edge of collapsing. As if last night’s madness, the stress over the wedding plans, and the failure of the bachelor party hadn’t been enough. For some unknown reason the catering lorries ended up somewhere near Bedford, and the florist messed up with the order and delivered pale yellow tulips amongst other pastel shades, contravening Erica’s direct request of total absence of that colour. They had to be removed one by one from each floral arrangement. But the damage was already done.

I glance towards the greenhouse where the ceremony should be taking place if we were sticking to the original schedule. The guests must be getting seated, after being entertained for a little longer than planned. I met my mum and Gemma earlier when I was with Niall greeting everyone. He struggled to remain focused, trying to make people to feel welcomed, but the anticipation was already killing him. Louis finally showed up, but as far as I know he didn’t apologise for what he did, or didn’t do. Maybe this time his inclination to pretend nothing happened is a blessing. We’ve been through a lot together, and experience has shown we are somewhat like cats, always landing on our feet. So of course he could have imagined we’d manage to get those cufflinks back, but we were in it together. Yet he chose the easy way out. I shake my head. Louis possesses that sort of insolence you wish for yourself when you first meet him, but that you end up loathing later.

Under different circumstances I’d be able to enjoy the way things are taking shape from those files that once laid in my kitchen's worktop, but it's difficult. I’m glad they chose a botanical garden near London for the event, and not some venue in the city though. This is massive. It’s not at all as Erica first imagined it, but Niall has friends and work commitments in the same amount. We are talking about more than 300 people. No way to fit that number in Babington House, as Erica wanted. She and Jeanne have so much in common it amazes me. They’re both so chill and low profile. The only difference that comes to mind for this scenario would be that, if this were Jeanne’s wedding, instead of tulips there’d be chrysanthemums all around. Layers and layers of Jeanne. It would be Japanese reminiscent, in that exquisite, kanji sobriety that is her fashion… What am I even thinking about a hypothetical Jeanne’s wedding? She’s not the type that marries. And I said I was going to control these kinds of thought, because they physically hurt. But sometimes it’s stronger than my will, and I lately find myself wandering back to that interview. What were those headcanons all about?

“I’m so sorry,” I say, stopping on my tracks, as someone else’s body collides with mine. I wasn’t paying attention…” Jeanne glances at me, perplex. I hadn’t seen her before, because she was late, but God, she looks beautiful. She looks absolutely beautiful in her pale pink dress. The way the tight top highlights her slender torso, toned down by the floaty tulle skirt. No, I can’t tell her that. I can’t keep objectifying her. She’s not made for my consumption. “How are you?” I mumble, and throw a hand to her forearm, changing my mind in the middle of the action.

“I’m fine, and you?” She replies in the warmest way, and I just want to rub her face on my chest.

“I’m worried,” I admit. I can’t lie to her. We’ve been struggling all morning to prevent Erica from learning about everything, and I’m knackered. And when Niall dropped his speech about not being able to go through it I thought I was going to faint.

“I know…–––Jeanne says. When I went to greet Erica I could tell something was off. It’s probably the pressure of going through all this.” She gestures around. Yeah, it’s a bit overwhelming. No wonder Erica feels uneasy. She’s not used to this kind of attention and expectations. “But she looks beautiful in her dress.”

“I’m sure she does.” I haven’t seen her, but I’m positive she does. Erica has one of those huge souls that would make her beautiful in every circumstance. “Niall was freaking out too–––I explain. Things have been a bit difficult and he’s resenting it, but it has nothing to do with his feelings.” He loves her like… I’ve never seen anyone loving someone so much as he loves Erica. And it has been this way since the day we met her, even if it took years for him to realise. We were so young.

“They’re talking right now–––she speaks reassuringly–––which is probably what they needed all the way…” When Kristen came to tell us Erica needed to talk to Niall I felt relieved, but God only knows if they’ll be able to sort it out. I hope they do, because I don’t know what happens when weddings get cancelled, even if the couple love each other. “I don’t get this tradition of not seeing each other before the ceremony. It’s so inorganic…” Jeanne muses. I didn’t know she had ideas about marriage. Well, she has a lot of ideas. She just doesn’t communicate. “The couple should be together through the whole process,” she sighs. She does have strong ideas about it for an anarchist. “But they love each other. They’ll find the way…” I can’t help but smile, as her words warm up my heart. “Everyone will be OK… A wise woman told me that.” A broad smile creeps up on her face. “No matter what happens, we can overcome. We’ll always be fine… They will, and so will you, Harry.” For some reason, this reminds me so much of what she told me in that lift in Philadelphia before she left I can’t do other than shiver. Maybe it’s a family saying.

“Is that wise woman your mum?” I inquire with a cheeky grin.

“No, your mum,” Jeanne asserts blithely. My mum? When did they talk? Did they meet earlier? I instinctively glance around. “You don’t have to worry.” She leads both of her hands to straighten my tie in a gesture that makes me melt.

“And what about you, Jeanne?–––I ask, bending closer. Will you be fine too?” Will you be fine when I’m not there to watch over you? Because I know sometime in the near future you’ll be gone and I’ll feel your presence in my life has been like a dream all over again.

“They offered me a new book deal,” she says, timidly glimpsing down, as she pushes her hair behind her ear. “I hadn’t told anyone yet…” She glances back at me, and it’s like some fire is consuming my body. I’m the first one she told something.

“That’s amazing–––I mumble, containing myself not to hold her hands. I always knew your words would take you far.” A second novel… I don’t think I could be more proud of her. Jeanne smiles brightly. “Do you have any idea of the subject?”

“I’ve been researching about the Rape of Nanking.” I squint at her.

“But that’s one of the most tragic episodes of History,” I say. Of course she knows that. “Which POV? Will it be a romance?”

“I’m not sure yet–––she shrugs. I wanted to tell the story from the perspective of the local population, but my publishing house is pressuring me to use the perspective of one of the foreigners that were there at the time. It’s what sells.” Yeah, I know the feeling. They’re money-oriented. So to be creative and fair in this world is a struggle. “But it’s so unknown by the general public I feel like I have to tell the story no matter what…” She explains, concerned. I admire the fact that she’s always pushing the envelop in terms of contents. She never settles for anything dull or cliché. She takes risks. And she has the strange ability to turn the weirdest topic into something everyone can enjoy and learn from. No wonder they want her, even if they want to mould her, business-wise.

“I think you have to do it–––I state, and I can’t help but touch her elbow. No matter what… You have to tell this story. And if you go for a male foreigner character I could play him in the film adaptation.” Joking to lighten things up has always been my thing. But this is not entirely a joke. If we were working partners it’d mean she’d still be in my life.

“You are always rushing in,” Jeanne retorts, shaking her head. I know she’s talking in a broader sense, not just circumscribed to this particular instance. But yeah, that’s me. The fool that rushes in like in the song, and gets burnt every time. “We haven’t finished this one yet…”

“How does it feel to attend the wedding of someone you crushed on?” I drastically change the subject.

“I don’t know…”

“Didn’t you have a crush on Niall in 2014?” I question her, still in my cheeky self. I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but it’s something that’s always been in the back of my mind. Mine and Niall’s minds.

“I just had a crush on you…” Jeanne stares into my eyes, and my chill is over. It took her five years to admit it without beating around the bushes, because not even that day in Paris she addressed it directly. I don’t know why she even had to bring her ex into the conversation, which was a major turn-off and could have easily pushed me away… Wasn’t that what she wanted? That’s what she told me once. That she wanted to discourage me. But why…? I hold her gaze, and I can feel the intensity going out of control. How could I control it? I met her exactly five years ago, and my feelings for her are fresh and raw as that first day.

“Ahem," Allison, Erica’s maid of honour clears her throat at our side, making us both jump.

“Allison…” I quickly try to compose myself. “I know the world is killing you…” God, why am I so silly? Reciting Elvis Costello, Harold? For real?

“I’m hungover–––she tells me, a bit embarrassed. Do I look bad?” God, I’m an ass.

“You look absolutely ravishing, love,” I mutter, turning towards her, as I give her my full attention. I hope Jeanne realises this is compensatory flirting.

“Do I?”

“My aim is true…” I can’t help but continue with the quoting game, as I throw a hand to clutch my heart. Allison bats her eyelashes, her body positioned towards me. How do people fall for my crap?

“Maman!” A little familiar voice makes me break the dynamics. Lara arrives running and jumps into Jeanne’s arms.

“Sie wollte zu dir kommen. Ich konnte nichts dagegen tun,” Hilda tells her, and nods her head to acknowledge me. She’s so formal even if we’ve become great friends.

“Danke, Hilda,” Jeanne says. Thank you… That must have been some sort of explanation for Lara’s impulsive behaviour. Allison glances at me, impatient. “Lara, regarde–––she talks to her daughter with her French voice, and I’m completely defenceless. C’est tonton Schweini.” She points at me. Uncle Piggy… “Tu te rapelle ce que tu m’as dit l’autre jour… Comment est-il, tonton Schweini?” Lara gazes down, rather shy.

“Mignon…” She mumbles, wringing her hands, as she glimpses at me. They talk about me… Jeanne and Lara talk about me when I’m not there, and Lara thinks I’m cute. I could die right now. Jeanne kisses her, but Lara leans in, throwing her arms at me. Without thinking twice I approach her and she cups my face, leaning further, until she rubs her little nose on my cheek. I glimpse at Jeanne and for some reason her eyes are shimmering in a way that leaves me petrified.

“Harry, the Priest is calling,” Allison complains. So this is why she was looking for me. I have to pull myself together. “You have to bring Niall.” I nod, still looking at Jeanne.

“I see you at the ceremony,” I tell her, and rush back.

It’s all in God’s hands now.

–.–.–

Notes

If you thought madness would be over... Not in this story! Much more to come soon!

Thank you so much for all the lovely comments in my last update! Knowing you are there reading this makes me work harder and faster. Thank you for staying around after so long. Love you all <3