Care
December 3rd Me and Chloe leapt to our feet when Harry scored a goal, cheering wildly as he ran across the pitch to go and celebrate with his team, widening his mouth and sticking his tongue out, lifting his shirt up to reveal that beautiful body of his.
It was so nice to see everyone’s reaction when he turned up that day, how happy they all were to see him, and how happy that made him in return. To avoid suspicions, we’d arrived separately despite spending our entire day together, and even the sound of his motorbike revving down the road had been enough to get everyone excited, realising he was back. I bet he loved it. The second he was off the bike, the lads had bolted over to him, not only glad to have one of their strongest players back, but glad to have him back. I pretended it was my first time seeing him too, jogging over with the girls not long after the boys had run to him, excitedly asking where he’d been, if he was okay, receiving roundabout answers, but I don’t even think anyone cared, really. We were all just happy to have him back. I hoped it warmed his heart. I hoped it reinforced how much we all cared for him, how we loved having him around, how he was missed. I thought maybe Harry had taken off without a word because he wasn’t used to having anyone he could tell, anyone who cared. Maybe with the places he’d been in the past, he didn’t have people there who would miss him enough that he’d even think about sharing his whereabouts. He had that with us, and I hoped if the time did come again where he had to leave, even if only for a while, he’d tell us. The way he’d smiled when everyone gathered around him was beautiful to behold; a little amazed, dazed, beaming. It was nice to see we all meant something to him. He could be so closed off that sometimes it was hard to tell, but I felt like I was slowly starting to figure him out, add together the tatters of things that I knew about him so that his actions, how he dealt with things, was gradually beginning to make sense to me. “THREE FUCKING NIL!” Chloe screamed, the opposite team scowling, one of them even giving her the middle finger. “LET US KNOW WHEN YOU’RE READY TO PLAY SOME REAL FOOTBALL, LADS!” “Chloe, shush!” I scalded. “TOO BUSY PLAYING WITH YOUR HAIRY BALLS TO LEARN HOW TO PLAY WITH A FOOTBALL! BOOM!” I dragged her back down onto the ground before she got in a bloody fight, Harry looking over to us and grinning like mad before running back onto the pitch to continue the match, hoping to squeeze in another goal in the last few minutes of the game. It was bloody freezing, frost teasing the tips of every single blade of grass, looking like a very light layer of snow. Thankfully, Chloe had once again been wise enough to bring a blanket and some hot chocolate, but I was rather eager for the game to come to an end, to get back to the warmth of my home. Myself and Harry had already decided that we’d spend our night apart; I needed to get up early to sort things in the shop, knowing the upcoming weeks were the busiest of the year, and waking up beside Harry was always a huge distraction. I had to be sensible and focus on work. “Did you see Harry’s body then?” Chloe whipped her head to me, like she’d just remembered it. “I did.” I giggled. “That was a good body.” “Agreed. Very nice.” “Did he have a butterfly tattoo? Is that what that was?” “I think so, I dunno.” I lied, knowing full well he had a giant butterfly etched into his skin. “I’m ready for summer. The boys always play topless in summer, it’s the best time of year. For that alone. Now we’ve got Harry in the mix too. All of them? Topless? Can’t bloody wait.” I was sniggering away to myself at the way she was rubbing her hands together, wishing the months away just so we could be sat on the same spot with a bit of heat, watching all the lads run around without their tops on. The game continued in high spirits, Chloe aggressively cheering every time one of our team even touched the ball, but a fourth goal never came, the game ending rather uneventfully. Libby, Niall, Lincoln, Louis and Harry all shared false pleasantries with the other team before parting ways for another week or so, heading up to the road where me and Chloe stood waiting, applauding them quietly. “Thank you, thank you.” Libby bowed. “You get goal of the week.” I told her. “That first one… bloody beautiful.” “Thank you, babe.” She gave me a big kiss on the cheek. “I actually think mine was the superior goal.” Niall protested “Yours was by far the worst” Libby said, the two of them practically beginning to scrap in the street. “Reyt, it’s freezing!” Louis called. “Pint? Or home time?” “M’gunna go home, and you should too!” I told him. “I want you at work early tomorrow, remember?” “Shit, yeah. Christmas rush and all that.” “Exactly.” “Alright, c’mon, everyone pile in. Harry, you giving Alfie a lift again?” “Yeah, I’ll get her back safe.” He smiled. “You better.” He scaled, before looking to Niall, who now had Libby in a headlock. “Oi, you two! Niall, you’re gunna hurt her, knock it off!” Sometimes I imagined Louis felt like he was looking after a bunch of children when it came to us, dragging the two of them apart and pushing them towards the car. “Drive safe!” I called. “Same to you!” With great difficulty, he eventually got them all into the car, me and Harry watching for a while before wandering over to his motorbike, looking back over our shoulders and sniggering at the scene. “Them lot, honestly.” Harry smiled, fiddling with his helmet after passing me over the spare. “Bloody idiots.” “Did you see how happy they were to see you?” I cooed, watching his face, trying to take in his reaction. “I did.” He answered shyly. His smile got even bigger, but he didn’t look up to me, biting briefly at his bottom lip, bashful. I found myself smiling too, simply by seeing the look on his face, what the greeting had done to him. To cover my own smile, I quickly put the helmet on my head, ready for another terrifying journey home. I was still to get used to the feeling of being on the back of his motorbike, despite the fact he gave me a lift back after every match he’d been to since joining the team. He’d speed down those quiet roads and leave me convinced that the only thing keeping me alive was my tight grip around his waist. We readied ourselves, Harry looking back to check on me once we were ready, already holding tight before he’d even revved the engine. “You ready?” “Mhm.” Though my reply was unconvincing, we were on our way only seconds later. I released a painfully high shriek when we pulled away from the curb, but other than that, I did much better than I usually did. Maybe I was gradually getting used to the feeling, the sensation of it, the vulnerability I felt. All I had to do was hold tight enough, put my trust him, and I’d somehow feel less exposed. It was such an odd feeling. The cold air began to sting my skin as we raced through the fields, setting my gaze on the dim sky, the grey hue that blended into the atmosphere, shrouding us in darkness. The nights were growing colder and earlier, meaning in a matter of minutes it would be pitch black. I felt strangely calm, despite my whereabouts. I rested my head against his back, breathed it in, tried to embrace it all. I was still thankful that the road to my home wasn’t a long one. By the time I’d calmed down enough to almost enjoy it, we were reaching the centre of the village, our short and exhilarating journey over. Once again, Harry pulled up on the gravel at the back of my home, sliding next to my car. I got off as soon as I could, pulling the helmet off with ease this time around, then passing it over to him once he’d taken his off. “Thanks for the lift.” “No worries.” “And congrats on another win.” “Thanks for cheering us on.” He grinned. We stilled, simply staring at one another, something in my stomach keeping me grounded. It felt weird to not be inviting him in. We’d made the decision, and I knew it was the right one, and it was just one night. Yet, I still felt like I’d be missing out. It was infuriating. “M'gunna go inside.” I eventually blurted. “Yeah, you need to… get some kip.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. So… I’ll see you soon.” “Yep. Good.” “Goodnight.” “Night.” After hesitating for a moment, I did the right thing, turning on my heel and heading indoors, not feeling too thrilled about it but trying to remember why it was we’d decided to do that in the first place, how insignificant one evening was, how I would barely be thinking about it when I was back with him again the following evening. It was maddening, like a damn addiction. I got inside and locked the bottom door, producing a wildly frustrated sigh, trying to shake off the feeling as I headed upstairs. I hadn’t even reached the top by the time there was a ferocious knock on my door. I practically ran back down the stairs, opening the door again as soon as I could and throwing myself into his arms, leaping to wrap my legs around his waist, my lips back with his, his hands immediately losing themselves in my hair. “M'not fucking leaving.” He groaned. “Good.” I managed to gasp. He began walking up the stairs, carrying me with him and kicking the door shut behind us, not sufficiently closed by any means, but we were too wrapped up in each other to care. You’d think we hadn’t been together for months, when really it had been hours. You’d think we’d been deprived of each other, when actually we’d promised one evening. I wasn’t used to that sort of thing, that overwhelming need for someone, to be so attracted and in awe of someone who seemed to share that same fascination. I couldn’t get enough and yet it was driving me wild, strangely irritating in how consuming it was. My back crashed against the door at the top of the stairs, Harry trying to get inside, shaking the handle for a few seconds before giving up. “It’s locked.” “I can see that, Alf.” He huffed giddily. “You gunna open it?” “Put me down, I need to find my keys.” I dropped to the floor a second later, spinning around and routing through my bag, Harry gripping my waist and giving me little room to move, trapped between his body and the door, his lips on my neck, heat rising from my stomach. As soon as the door was back open he spun me around again, keeping his lips on mine as we stumbled quickly into my bedroom, Harry taking my coat off for me before we rushed through the process of undressing. It was ridiculous; one night shouldn’t have felt like anything! I’d just gone two weeks without him and even though it wasn’t ideal, it had been fine. I hadn’t seen this coming, the way we hadn’t been able to part, like we were depriving ourselves of something, like the thought of him going home was something we couldn’t handle. I’d never felt anything like that before, that feeling in my gut, that hopelessness, that desperation, completely out of our control. We tumbled down to the bed as soon as we were naked, Harry kissing a trail down my body then putting his hands on my knees and spreading my legs on my behalf, delving straight in. “Fuck.” A groan left my lips as I snapped my neck to look at him, watch the way he had his eyes on me, how even with his face between my legs and his tongue between my folds, he could still look smug. He was so aware of himself, which I think was one of the contributing factors to how good he was in the bedroom; how good he was with everything, really. It was strange to me, how he could be so closed off and yet so confident at the same time. It was all captured in his poise, his mannerisms, his words, his wonder. I hated how he watched me, or maybe I loved it, the burn of his gaze, the intensity it introduced. Even when I looked away, I could still sense it, how he wanted to watch how weak he could make me, how good he was making me feel. It was difficult to get used to how concentrated that energy he had became when we slept together, how he put it onto me and I simply had to learn how to manage it, how to deal with the all-consuming moxie that he possessed. “Harry, I want you.” I gasped, reaching to stroke the backs of my fingers over his temple. “I wanna feel you, please.” He didn’t need anything more from me, moving back up my body, kissing me again as soon as he could, slowly pushing into me as he did. I blissed out almost instantly, brushing my tongue against his, speckles of pink pleasure painting themselves upon my cheeks. He was smooth, starting slowly, rolling into me so precisely, like his main focus was the way he was kissing me rather than anything else, but I liked that about him. For me, kissing had always been a big part of it, a core source of pleasure during sex, and I got that in abundance with him. His pace began to quicken, moaning lightly as he worked, one hand on my neck and one digging into the mattress beside us, helping him keep his posture. “Pull my hair.” Harry huffed, biting his lip as soon as I wrapped by fingers into his curls and pulled back, separating our lips, his head smacking backwards. He steadied himself by placing his other hand on the other side of the bed as I kept his neck in that position, admiring the way it snagged, his eyes closed, clearly enjoying the minor zap of pain, the way it felt having to have me control him that way. I found myself focusing on the shape of his lips as he drove into me, robust and precise. They were bright pink, plump, still trapped between his teeth and yet not quite covering the small smile they’d formed. I could only admire them for so long before I was aching to kiss him again. Still with my fingers lost in his hair, I pushed his head back down to greet mine so I could feel his kiss again, relish in his lips in the exact way I needed to; they were so perfect, it was like they were designed specifically for pleasure, his hands so large they were made to overwhelm me, his eyes green enough to hold his soul entirely. His whole body was a weapon that he knew exactly how to use. I pushed at his chest with some force, distancing our bodies so that we unlatched, clumsy in my attempts to change our position. “What’re you doing?” He chuckled once he was up on his knees. “Sit back.” Grinning, his eyes running down my body as I made my way to him, he complied, sitting back but keeping his body upright, grabbing my waist as I got on top of him, dragging me close to him as soon as he could. I held his dick upright, guiding the two of us back together, wrapping my legs around his waist as soon as he was in once again, Harry immediately taking his lips to my neck, blessing my skin with sweet kisses. I swerved my hips, throwing my head back as Harry caressed his hands down my back, every touch perceptible in a way that felt utterly immense, my body blisteringly aware of each move he made, every slight and significant way our bodies met. “I love the way you make me feel.” I found those words spoke straight from my subconscious, not registering with me beforehand. I wanted to curse, suddenly dropping my head, embarrassed. It was simply a level of intensity and honesty that wasn’t desirable when I was trying to fuck him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to know that, but it was the way I’d said it, the moment we were still in. I wished I’d found a different way of saying the same thing that didn’t feel so blatant, that wasn’t riddled with such vulnerability and ache. I knew I was feeling that way, so paranoid and aware of my words, because of the night before. I had slept in his arms and awoken in his arms and that had never happened before. Our intimacy had not halted when the sex did, which was how it usually unfolded between us; we’d continued it, reshaped it, been close and tender and teetered upon tremulous ground. Because of that, I didn’t feel entirely comfortable with what I’d just said. Our line had blurred for the first time the night before, and I wanted to drag it back into focus, remind myself and him of what we were and what we’d agreed to in the first place. We’d already stomped out our freedom to sleep with other people, and it seemed the rules we’d agreed to, or at least the idea of how things should be with us, were slowly beginning to loosen. I wanted more clarity than I felt we had. I wanted to tame the parts of our passion that we had been absently allowing to run wild. “Alf.” He spoke my name so gently, almost solemn. He took his hand, curving his fingers into his palm and placing them gently beneath my chin, pushing up gently so I lifted my head once again, our eyes meeting. Steadily, and with our bodies now completely still, he moved to me, kissing me, tender, caring, somehow encouraging. There was something about him, something that told me I didn’t need to hide. There was no reason for embarrassment nor shame. He was gifted in the way he instilled assurance in others. Because it wasn’t something that simply happened when we slept together either, but just how he was. He had, since the first day I met him, been a positive encouragement. There was something built into Harry that meant he cared, beyond what his job role implied, a deeper need to care. It was ingrained into him, I thought spurred by something in his life. He cared for every single woman who took his lessons, he cared for vast number of plants in his home, he cared about those around him so much, like he could sense things that hadn’t even been spoken. He loved looking after others. It was such a desirable quality, but I felt like whatever had spurred that part of him was not as kind as he was. I wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and starting to swerve my hips again, easing thanks to his tenderness. He bulked up to me as a reaction to my movements, his hand moving from my chin to my neck, his other arm forming a snare around my body, cushioning us together as close as possible. We moved with haste, grit, so close and warm that I could feel the sweat beading over his chest, his mouth becoming unresponsive to mine, lips parting, panting. I remained close, watching his face, running my fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, encouraging his end. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He cried, looking very angry as he did. The feel of him finishing was a sweet one. Whilst oozing satisfaction, I kept my eyes on his face, our frames beginning to loosen, brushing some hair from his face. I unwrapped my legs but stayed on top of him, unable to tear my eyes away. “I’m gunna be sore tomorrow.” He groaned, making me giggle. “The match, and then that? My muscles are gunna be fucked. I didn’t work out when I was away, this is gunna hit me like a fucking train.” Exhausted, he flopped backwards, completely misjudging how far down the bed he was positioned, attempting to lay down but his head and most of his back flopping over the bottom of the bed, falling for a second before shooting back upright, using his perfect physique and grabbing me again to steady himself further, eyes like damn saucers. “Holy shit!” He wailed, gripping my arms, and I couldn’t stop laughing. “I thought there was more bed! That was bloody terrifying!” “Oh my god, your face!” I cackled. “My whole life flashed before my eyes!” He rested his hand on his heart, clearly quite shaken by his stupidity, whereas I couldn’t stop laughing, climbing off him so that he could move further up onto the bed, laying down with his head at the foot of the bed rather than on the floor. I lay down too, crashing my head against the pillow, still giggling away as the two of us lay side by side but on opposite ends of the bed, gazing up to the ceiling, Harry still catching his breath. “Holy shit, your face.” I was still sniggering. “That’s printed in my head forever now.” “It was like when you feel like you’re falling in a dream. I hated it, that was awful. I was not prepared.” I wasn’t sure whether Harry needed to calm down from the sex or the panic he’d felt when he almost fell down to the ground, but eventually things went quiet as we calmed. The light of the day had faded quickly, my room already much darker than it had been when we’d first staggered in there. There was a switch just beside my bed, so I leaned to flick the bulb on, introducing an additional light to the room before I lay back down. “I should probably go.” Harry sighed eventually, sitting himself up and running his hand through his hair. “That’s probably a good idea. You probably should have gone earlier.” “Sorry.” He smiled down to the bedsheets, fiddling with them between his fingers. “I… I couldn’t help myself.” “No, and I’m glad.” I got off the bed, going to collect our clothes, only putting my jumper on and then throwing his things to him. “Thanks.” He began dressing himself. “Let’s have a day off tomorrow.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “You think we can?” I asked, standing at the foot of my bed with my arms folded, watching him get ready to leave. “Uh… Yeah! C’mon, we have… some self-control, right?” He grinned. “Tonight’s not been the best indication of that.” After slotting his legs into his pants, he stood up, shuffling them up his legs, the two of us now stood only a few inches apart. “That’s true, but… we were already together. Didn’t make sense to just drive away from you.” “Okay.” I giggled. “Alright, well then I’ll see you in the class on Wednesday.” “Sounds good to me.” He smiled for a moment, before his face dropped, enough for me to tilt my head, grow concerned, but he spoke again before I could ask. “Do you… Do you think Sam’ll come back for Christmas?” I had worried about it myself. He’d been gone for almost two months, and I did think he may show up again to be at home for this time of year, but I couldn’t know for sure. “Um… I dunno, I hope not. His mum doesn’t live here anyway, so hopefully… he’ll be with her. But I dunno. I’m… kinda trying not to think about it.” He nodded, breathing heavily. I wondered if it had been playing on his mind. I knew what had happened with me and Sam brought out an anger in Harry that I hadn’t seen in any other scenario, but I hadn’t even considered him worrying about it, fretting over his return in the way I was. Or maybe he just knew that was how I’d be feeling, and wanted to comfort me in some way. That was definitely in his nature. “I wanted to say that… If he turns back up here-” “Harry, I don’t… I don’t think he’d be that way with me again. You don’t need to worry.” “But that doesn’t mean he won’t make you feel uncomfortable, or unsafe. And that’s a threat in itself. So, I just wanted to say that if he does turn up here, and you feel that way, then call me. Call me, and I’ll be here, to get him out or to just be here with you. Whatever you need. Let me know, and I’ll be here, as soon as I can. I promise.” I didn’t know how I would feel if Sam did show his face again. I didn’t know if I’d feel sorry for him, if I’d want to talk, or if I would feel uneasy and hurt by his presence. But Harry simply wanted me to be aware that if I did feel badly, then I could rely on him. He would come to me, with that air of safety he possessed, and help, in any way he could. “Thank you.” I mumbled eventually. He nodded, then bent down to put his trainers on, shooting back up again once he was fully prepped to leave. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He smiled. “Yeah. Night.” “Night.” He leaned in, leaving a very brief kiss on my lips before parting from me, giving me a final smile before he walked out the door, leaving me feeling rather reflective about everything that had happened with the two of us over the last 24 hours. I really didn’t know how I felt.
December 4th I was glad the shop was pretty quiet that day. Our focus was on the boring stuff, like our suppliers, and tax, and stock, and everything the two of us found utterly tedious. It was a hidden blessing that we didn’t have many people just walking in that day, because it meant we could focus on everything in time for the upcoming rush that Christmas always brought. I’d had a good night’s sleep, it was only 10AM, and I still felt like I could nod off at any moment, merely down to how boring the work was. “I hate Excel.” I huffed, tapping away at my laptop. “I hate all of this… sensible stuff.” Louis complained. “Y’know I’m only good at flogging wine. I’m not good at anything else, I am salesman at heart.” We were both pretty useless with that kind of thing, but Louis was right; he thrived when it came to sales, and I loved that I’d been able to bring him in when I had to take over the business, so we could both work with a friend and it was a job he was so good at. I always took care of this kind of thing as the year went on, because I was better at it, but Louis had to help me out at Christmas. “You’re better than you think.” I told him. “Cheers. You’re lying, but cheers.” He tut. “I hear you’re spending Christmas with Lin?” “Yeah, bless him. I can’t believe he even thought of me.” “He’s literally such a caring little bastard, isn’t he? He’s got a heart of gold.” “He does.” I agreed. “How did we get so lucky? To be surrounded by so many good people in such a small place?” “Tell me about it. One of the many reasons I don’t wanna leave Rosebury. I know there’s a lot of places with a lot more exciting shit going on than we have here, but I love it too much. I’m too happy with what we’ve got here. I don’t… want for anything, it’s sick. Not a bad life that, is it?” “Not at all.” I smiled wide. “I love that you feel that way.” We were lucky with what we had, the bonds we’d made and the lives we all had. It was nice to have a few moments of remembering that, embracing that happiness, feel grateful for our lives. Because I was about to be reminded that those moments can shatter in seconds. The phone rang beside me, only dialling a few times before I answered, lifting the phone to my ear and speaking cheerfully. “Witchcraft Winery, how can I help?” “Fee?” I felt the life drain out of me. I literally felt it fall from my body and disperse into the air around me. I knew it was bad because of the look on Louis’ face, how quickly he could tell something wasn’t right, how alarmed he seemed. I couldn’t even imagine what my face was like, likely pale, blank, tears already filling my eyes. His voice had done that. Just his voice, that nickname, and I felt like I’d broken. “Dad?” I whimpered down the line. I turned away from Louis, covering my eyes and trying not to cry, or throw up, or anything that my body was telling me I desperately needed to do. “Hi, sweetie.” His voice was heavy, filled with sorrow. “What is it? What’s wrong?” I rushed. I was dizzy, sad, confused and filled with this guilt that I always tried to ignore. He took a few moments, and then answered my question. “It’s your mum. I think you need to come and see her.”
