You don't need to worry about making me crazy, cause I'm way passed that.

Harry's alseep. Curled into himself, arm wrapped tightly around me, suffocating me, almost. He's breathing slowly and steady, mouth twitching into a frown and then back to normal. He looks soft, and warm, and I want to melt against his side.

I probably would; if my mind would allow it.

There's a lot to talk about. There's a lot we haven't said (Harry mostly), there is so much left to explain; it's making my head spin and my heart accelerate, with just the thought.

"Pres-- what?" Louis' stops abruptly. His eyes go wide, mouth agape, when he sees a sleeping Harry, draped over me. "Please tell me that's not-- oh, Ben's going to kill you." I hate myself right now, for not coming up with a plan to explain this all to Louis and Ben. Not to mention my parents.

"Why am I going to--" Ben doesn't continue, but doesn't remove his stare from my bed. "I'll actually kill you first," he says to me. Dead serious. "Then, I'll come after this fucker, slow and painful."

"Can I know what the fuck happened while we were gone, first? Then, I'll help you. These shit heads need to give us a break, I swear."

"Now?" I ask, my head dropping, pointing at Harry, slightly. "I don't think I can actually move." Harry's hand is tight. Like, he's trying to keep me from running, while he sleeps.

"Here, let me help." Ben struts towards the bed, peels Harry's arm off, and watches proudly as Harry tumbles to the ground with a groan. "There," he tuts. "Now come." Ben walks to the door and then looks back, expectingly.

I sigh but move toward him, walking out with him, as Louis' stops a confused Harry from following.
We make it back to their guest room, and I'm in trouble, and I'm nervous.

"I'm not going to yell. I'm not going to lecture you," Ben starts, seriously. "I only want to know why Harry's here."

"For me, I think." I mumble. "We haven't talked about it, yet. He showed up and-- I don't know."

"You don't know?" Ben grumbles. "You better figure it out, Presley."

"I need to talk with, Harry, first then."

Ben bites his bottom lip, eyes stuck on me, as he examines me. He looks like he's trying to come up with a master plan. However, he finally sighs and says. "Why can't you tell Harry to fuck off, and then let Louis and me kick his stupid ass? That's so much easier."

"I've never done things, easy."

"It wouldn't be you, now, would it," Ben mutters, annoyed, and tired. "Just..." Ben sighs, waving his hands.
"Go talk to him. I can hear him demanding to get in here, and I'd like to avoid confrontation so early in the freaking day."

I don't say anything. I smile instead, and wrap my arms around his shoulders in a silent, thank you.

"Go," Ben pats my back softly. "Be careful, stupid. You're still mine, and I want to keep you in one piece."

****
As soon as my feet are on my carpet, Harry's arms are wounded around me in a severe death grip.

"I thought," Harry shudders. "I thought you left, like--"

"Like you did?" I don't say it to rub it in his face, and make him feel bad. I say it because it comes out, and ironically, it's true. "This is why we have to talk."

"I-- yeah, okay. We can talk. I'd like that, I think."

"We were going to talk, whether you liked it or not, Harry."

"I know," Harry admits, cheeks going red, eyes nervous.

"Lay it on him, Pretzel," Louis smirks by the door. "He's been a brute. A right down twitt, with the worst taste. Make him suffer."

"Oh my God," I snicker. "Go away, Louis." Louis sticks his tongue out, seemingly proud of himself and finally leaves.

Harry and I stare at each other. Only stare, neither making the first move to speak first. His eyes flicker over my face, hands twitching. He bites his bottom lip, scratches his head, and says. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Going to make me suffer?" Harry whispers. "I deserve it, brown eyes. I wouldn't blame you." His head is bowed, and he looks embarrassed. I take a calming breath and sit on my bed, holding my hand out. Harry takes it, cautiously, face waiting for a blow.

"There's nothing to be afraid of." I promise. There's nothing he should fear. Not with me.

"I'm afraid you'll tell me it's too late," Harry's eyes fill with water, and it's excruciating. "I've messed up, Presley. I fucked you up, and I did so many things, I know I shouldn't of. I just-- I couldn't help myself. I tried, but every time I did." Harry looks down, and captures my hand, our fingers tangling. "I loose my self control around you, baby. I don't-- I can't leave you alone. I don't want to."

This is everything I want to hear. What I've been waiting to hear, and it feels too unreal, and my tiny brain can't comprehend it.

"I broke it off; the engagement." He continues.

"What? Already?" I can feel the surprise fill my face.

"I couldn't go through with it, knowing it wasn't you."

I swallow thick, and nod. I'm sure I'm hearing wrong. That I've mixed up the words, and my head is twisting what he's actually saying, in attempt to protect myself. "You left her? Just like that?"

"Yeah, and this is the best I've felt in a long time." He squeezes my hand for emphasis, and nuzzles the side of my neck with his nose. He inhales, and presses a deliberate kiss on my skin. "I won't push you, baby. I won't do anything you don't want me too, and I sure as fuck won't leave your side, unless you lock me up somewhere far away."

"Tell me why?" I say before I forget.

"Why what?" Harry plays it off, even though I know he knows what I mean.

"Why you fucking left." Oh. I guess I am mad. Okay.

Guilt flashes all over his features. He exhales, deep, and shaky. "You won't believe me, if I say it was for you, Presley. And as stupid as that sounds, it's true. I did it for you. Because I love you."

"That's a sick way of showing it, Harry." I abruptly stand from my spot,and cross my arms over my chest. "Do you know what I did trying to find you? What I fucking had to go through?"

"I thought you wouldn't come after me," those words pull a gasp from me, that has Harry shooting off the bed, and towards me. He grips my upper arms, and keeps me steady. "I thought you'd let me go after a few weeks, and that I'd be able to move on. I was stupid, and oblivious, and I didn't know how much I loved you. How much I fucking needed you, until I couldn't answer your calls, or text you back. You don't know how much I wanted to respond to your emails-- oh God, I thought I was going to die, from everything I was feeling."

"I almost did," I whisper, ashamed. "I was the total, post- breakup, scorned, depressed, girl. I was a walking cliché."

"You stopped calling, and trying to communicate with me, six months later," another wave of something indescribable flashes over his face. The only emotion I recognize is pain. "I thought you did die." Harry crushes me to his chest, hand cupping the back of my head. "I was terrified that you had gotten in a car accident when you were drunk, or that you left home, and never came back. I have never been so afraid, Presley."

"Why did you leave?" He's said a lot. None, though, has been what I asked.

"Because I loved you too much." He finally admits. His words are a mere whisper, hands still gripping my limbs. The declaration is simple and it may knock me off my feet, with the sincerity behind them. "I told you things, I wouldn't even tell myself. I loved you way more than I thought I had the ability to. I was nineteen and I was ready to marry you, Presley. I was a kid and I got scared."

"You don't think I was scared? Holly fuck, Harry. I was terrified, and in the back of my mind, I knew there was a chance we wouldn't work out." I knew that, and I tried so hard not to be delusional. "What I wasn't expecting, was for you to up and leave one night."

"That was me being stupid."

"You still are," I chuckle with no humor, swiping under my eyes. "You're an idiot, and I should hate you. I should send you back to Jasmine."

"You should." Harry says, afraid.

"You're lucky I'm stupid, too," I mumble, hand still by my eye.

"You're not stupid," Harry says, hands on my waist, nuzzling my cheek.

"No. I'm beyond stupid, Harry. I proved it yesterday. The past year. I'm stupid." I don't even want to remember everything I forgot about yesterday. I really don't. I don't even want to know how I was able to get passed my parents.

"You'll get better, baby. We both will. We have too."

"Can we recap, for a second?" I'm that stupid, that I need to recap, and most likely spell it out.

"Okay," Harry says, amused.

"You're not engaged, anymore?"

"No," Harry agrees, easily.

"You're back? For like, good? Like, you're not going to leave one night because we fought?"

"I'm here, for as long as you'll have me. This time, I'm only going to leave if you're coming with me." That alone is calming and quite possibly the best thing anyone has ever said to me.

"We still have a lot to talk about," I say, more to myself than him. "There's a lot we have to work on, Harry."

"I want to do all of that, Presley. I'll do it for you."

"This is it, then." I say, trying to actually believe it. It's crazy, and unbelievable, and I'm sure this is a dream, that I never want to wake from. My hands snake up to his hair, and pull on the strands. I felt his hands cup the back of my head. His thumbs rubbing under my eyes. "I was not expecting this, today." I laughed as he smiled. His lips curving upwards.

"You never know with us," He chortled, as I shook my head. His head tilting to the side, his cheek falling on my shoulder. “I have missed you. So fucking much." He whispered, as he nuzzled my jaw with his nose. His breath was warm against my flushed skin, making goosebumps rise on my arms. He sighed, as I curled my hand loosely around his curls. His head came back up, his eyes wide and slightly teary, subtle tears falling down his chiseled cheeks.

"Why are you crying?” I ask running my thumb under his eyes. The pads collecting at the moisture. “I don't want you to cry," I whispered, as I pressed a kiss to his cheek. "So sensitive.” I grinned, as he smiled widely.

"Don't make fun of me," he whispers, face inching closer. "Can I kiss you?"

"You're asking?"

"You're right," he smirks. "I'm going to kiss you."

"Okay," I breathe against his mouth. "Make it a good one."

He nods and finally (finally) meets my lips. His hands squeeze my waist, and I can feel him smiling.
nice.

Seven levels of nice.

"My parents are going to kill me," I randomly murmur, once he pulls away to breathe. I'm also conscious of my parents existence, and I can kill the mood faster than the word, mucous.

His smile fades slightly, and he kisses me quick, and says. "I've got you."

"I know." I kiss his cheek and sigh. "I'm nervous, though. I was born nervous."

"You were born extraordinary."

"Such a big word," I tsk. "We have to face Louis and Ben, now. My parent's aren't home yet."

"After, and if I survive the interrogation with your parents," Harry's forehead crinkles, and his tongue pokes slightly between his lips, before saying. "Will you come away with me? On an impromptu Holliday?"

"Let's get through this, first."

"No, first this." Harry responds, crushing his lips with mine, again. It makes my chest flutter, and my mind can't believe this happened today. It actually happened, and I for the first time in a long time, I feel okay. Like, I'm no longer a sore bruise, that is purple and pulsing. I'm a nineteen year old, who may have just come home.

"I kind of love you," Harry whispers breathless.

I chuckle and nuzzle his cheek. "I kind of love you too, hazard." Harry tilts his head back and laughs, loud and light.

He shakes his head, and smiles warmly. "It's good to be home."

Notes