CW: Angst, mild language, mentions of drinking, long hair Harry.
A/N: I was inspired by the 5SOS song Me Myself & I with the lyrics “I know it’s my own fault, I never picked up that phone call” and also I thought tossing in Zayn would be fun!✨
Summary: Harry learns the hard way that his actions have consequences✨
Harry usually isn’t one to run away from things, choosing to deal with his issues head on to just get them over and done with so he can move on but that all changed with you. He knew it needed to be done, knew he needed to break things off before you got in too deep and wanted more from him than he’s willing to offer but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. It’s not as if Harry wanted to come to the conclusion that you’d be better off without him, but it’s one that became more and more obvious as the weeks turned into months and before he knew it a whole year went by. He knows he let it go on too long and you can call him a coward but every time he would almost do it, he’d have the words on the tip of his tongue he would chicken out because he just couldn’t stand the thought of seeing your eyes get all watery and your bottom lip start to wobble when he tells you all the plans you’ve been making for the future that include him aren’t going to happen because he’s just not the one for you.
You want to do things and go places that are far away from the sleepy little town the two of you grew up in, the one Harry has no desire to leave, the place he’s called home for over twenty years. Harry likes the slow pace of the life he’s built in the city that you can’t wait to leave and he knows he would just hold you back if he keeps letting your feelings for him grow into something bigger that would possibly make you consider giving up your dreams. And to Harry the least he could do was take himself out of the picture, not give you a choice to pick him over the life you want to live, to make it easier for you to go off and follow all the dreams you told him about all those late nights before drifting off to sleep.
So that’s why he does it the way that is easiest on him, he stops meeting up to walk you home from work, doesn’t come over for your usual Tuesday night pizza and movie dates, stops answering your texts and ignores every single one of your phone calls. It kills him to do it, knowing he’s probably making you cry and get so upset your cheeks get all flushed and your nose gets snotty like he’s seen a few times during your relationship, it makes his stomach drop and his heart break into tiny little pieces that etch into his chest and make his heart ache in a way that he hopes he never has to feel again.
He knows this way is more painful for you, not knowing what happened and why he just stopped showing up and quit talking to you. He knows he’s selfish for choosing to do it this way but a part of Harry hopes doing it this way makes you hate him, makes you want to leave the town that reminds you of him and in some sick way Harry hopes this is the push you need to go out and start living the life you want instead of being stuck here with him. And he is fully aware that he could’ve done it differently, done it in a way that would at least give you some type of closure, hell he could’ve even just sent a breakup text but he figured the less opportunities for you to talk to him would be better because one look into your sad eyes or one long paragraph declaring how much you love him and he’d fold so even though he knows this way is hurting you, he also knows it’s for the best.
It’s been six months since Harry has seen your number flash across his phone forcing him to hit the ignore button, six months since he’s had to delete a voicemail that held your teary voice asking what you did wrong and six months since he’s had to avoid certain spots around town so he wouldn’t have to risk the chance of seeing you. He’s finally at a point where little things like someone wearing the same perfume as you don’t make him think of you anymore, he doesn’t get anxious every time the bell above his tattoo shop’s door dings, he can hear your name being called in a crowd and doesn’t feel the small twinge of pain in his chest, he can go about his life almost the same way he did before you. His heart just feels a little heavier because no matter how many times he tells himself he did the right thing the weight of it all is still there, and he knows it won’t go away anytime soon if at all so he’s learning to live with it.
Part of learning to live with it is doing things that make him feel even a small sense of happiness and that’s exactly what Harry is doing tonight, going to the local bar and enjoying a few drinks with his friends. He smiles when he sees the neon light and hears the faint buzzing sound echoing off the brick walls of the alleyway the side door is on, opting to use that one because it’s closer to his shop that he just closed up for the night. He runs a hand through his long locks and is patting his back pockets to make sure he grabbed his wallet off his work station when the door opens and someone is walking out of it with a cigarette in their hand.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a light would you?” The man asks as he looks over at Harry who can tell this man isn’t from around here based off the massive amount of ink that takes up his whole right arm that’s visible thanks to the tank top he has tucked into a pair of skinny jeans, Harry owning the only tattoo shop in town he knows he would’ve met this man already if he was from here with all the artwork on his skin.
“Sorry I don’t.” Harry says with a shrug making the man let out a sigh before he slides the cigarette behind his ear making Harry’s eyes take notice of the ink that goes up the side of his neck and behind his ear. And it’s in this moment as he watches the stranger do this, something that if it was anyone else would look extremely lame that Harry realizes this man possesses a sense of confidence that’s subtle and makes everything he does seem cooler than necessary.
“S’okay I got one inside but it’s in the pocket of the jacket that my girl stole off me…told her it was gonna be chilly but she swore she’d be fine.” Harry just nods as the man leans against the brick wall next to the door he just came out of. “Sick tats mate-dig the mermaid.” He says with a jut of his chin towards Harry while pointing to his own forearm with a tattooed hand.
“Thanks a buddy of mine Niall did it at my shop.” Harry says as he looks at the mermaid on his forearm that can be seen due to his faded kiss t shirt.
“You have a shop?-I’m Zayn by the way.” Harry takes a step towards the man as he reaches his hand out for Harry to take. “Your shop in town?” He asks as Harry gives his hand a firm shake.
“I’m Harry and uh yeah..yeah it’s just down the street actually.” He answers and this makes Zayn let out a sound that’s a mixture of a scoff and a shocked laugh.
“Really? I didn’t think a town like this would be a good spot for a tattoo shop?”
“Why would you think that?” Harry asks jokingly because he knows exactly why Zayn would think this small quiet town with one main road and a total of six stop lights wouldn’t be the prime spot for a tattoo shop.
“You’re fuckin with me right?” Zayn asks with a raised brow making Harry just laugh and nod his head.
“Yeah I’m fucking with you…but actually we do really well I think it’s because the nearest shop to us is two hours away and people trust and know me-”
“You from here then?”
“Oh yeah born and raised.” Zayn just nods as he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and that’s when Harry takes note of the rings on his hand that he uses to run through his hair while the other holds the phone and for a moment Harry feels a little inadequate because Zayn just oozes a type of vibe that Harry can’t even come close to.
“If you’re from here you probably know my girlfriend.” Harry just shrugs trying to shake off the weird feelings that are beginning to fester in his chest as he watches Zayn type something quickly before sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Come on let’s see if it’s gonna be a high school reunion moment or something-she’s gonna kill me though she hates shit like this but I mean you were headed inside anyway so s’not like you could hide-only like ten other people in this place.” Zayn explains as he opens the door to the bar, letting Harry walk in first.
Harry laughs as Zayn goes on about how his girlfriend isn’t going to like the surprise of seeing someone she might know, a feeling Harry is very familiar with. He feels Zayn’s hand land on his shoulder as he comes up beside him once the two of them walk into the back of the bar where the pool tables are near the restrooms. He looks around and sees a few faces he knows but no one out of the ordinary besides Niall who swore to Harry on his way out of the shop after his last appointment that he was headed home but even seeing his blonde friend sitting on a stool watching a football game with a beer in his hand isn’t that strange.
“Babe!” Harry feels his heart fall all the way to the bottom of his stomach as a voice he hasn’t heard in six months fills his ears.
“Ah there she is.” Zayn says as he turns Harry in the direction of the voice. “She’s gonna proper freak out so-”
“Bit hard to go have a smoke if you don’t have a lighter isn’t it?” Harry’s face goes pale as he watches you walk up to Zayn who is walking in front of Harry to meet you half way, wrapping his arms around your shoulders so he can bring you in for a kiss to the side of your head.
“That did make it just a tad hard.” Zayn answers with a smile and it’s as if the rest happens in slow motion, Zayn is turning the two of you around so you’re both now facing Harry, Zayn’s arm draped over your shoulder in a causally possessive way that boyfriends tend to do. “But I met someone and m’curious if you know him? His name is Harry-he’s from here and owns a tattoo shop down the road.” Your smile doesn’t falter, doesn’t slip not even for a second meanwhile Harry feels like his face reads exactly how he’s feeling, shocked and a bit sick.
“I know it’s a small town but I really don’t know everyone.” You tease with a roll of your eyes making Zayn let out a chuckle. “It’s nice to meet you Harry.” Every word is like a punch to the gut that he knows he deserves, his eyes catch yours as you reach a hand out for him after giving him your name as if he didn’t already know it.
“N-nice to meet you too.” He manages to get out as he gives your hand a soft squeeze, enjoying how good it feels to have the weight of your hand in his again even if it’s just for a few moments.
“Well it was worth a shot-oh speakin of shots…let’s get a round-Harry you in?” Zayn asks completely oblivious to the fact the two people standing in front of him share more than just the small town they are all currently standing in.
“Uhm uh actually I just-I forgot my wallet at the shop I-I gotta go.” He’s turning around and rushing out the same door he just came through before you or Zayn can say anything. He runs both hands through his hair as he takes a few deep breathes once he’s out in the alleyway, doing everything he can not to let the feelings that are creeping back up into his chest get the best of him.
As he replays the short interaction between the two of you he realizes that Zayn doesn’t know who Harry is because you never told him. You never told him about the boy you dated that broke your heart without ever telling you why, about the boy who gave you that little heart tattoo on your ankle and the one who taught you to drive a stick shift. No you never told Zayn about him and the reason why hits Harry right in the face like a harsh smack.
He’s not worth talking about.
Harry knows the guilt of what he did is supposed to weigh him down and make happiness an emotion that’s a bit harder for him to reach. But seeing you standing in front of him acting like you didn’t know who he was seems to add a new weight to his already heavy heart because this is the first time he’s come face to face with the repercussions of his actions. The first time he’s seen how he hurt you so badly that you don’t even want to claim that you know him, how you’d rather him be some stranger than anything remotely close to someone you used to know. And now Harry absolutely knows he has no reason to be upset, you deserve to be happy but he can’t help but remember how happy you used to be with him and he has to shake his head to try to get the images of you out of his mind. It’s his fault, he has no one to blame but himself and as he stands there outside the bar he just has to live with the fact you’re happy with someone else and at least Harry can be glad that someone doesn’t seem to be an asshole, like him.
“He’s a little odd isn’t he?” Zayn asks with a laugh while you just shrug and rest your head on his shoulder as he walks you towards the bar and when you feel Zayn lean down and place a kiss to the top of your head and pull you closer into his side you smile because you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. In the arms of the guy who loves you enough to want to follow you anywhere your dreams may take you, even if that means spending a few days in your sleepy home town.
Warnings: sad, like really angsty, unrequited love
Masterlist | previous chapter
You look at your former best friend for a few minutes before it hits you. He’s gone.
“Oh my god.”, you whisper and hot tears emerge in your eyes. Not because you’re particularly sad, even though there is a special tragedy about it. But you always anticipated that he would ultimately change as a person. The amount of fame Harry has experienced over the years would presumably change everyone at some point.
He furrows his eyebrows.
"You actually think you're doing me a favor by coming here, don't you?”, you whisper and shake your head in disbelief before you get up from your spot on the couch: "Have you been on the internet those last few months? Have you seen what they have written about me? I wanted nothing to do with you, that's why I deleted and changed everything!"
Harry lowers his head and rubs the bridge of his nose.
"I was doing fine and now your sitting here? Acting as you came over for me-."
"I am here for you!", he replies and suddenly his thick accent is back: "I came here for you-." But you just scoff at that:" Be honest with me Harold, just one fucking time. Those past months...years even you never came to visit me. Not once! You never even called after that voicemail got leaked. I never changed my phone number, you know. I really don't know what you are doing here. I just know it isn't for the sake to save either me or this friendship."
Harry stares at you, and his eyes nervously flicker. As if he scans your face for something. Like a child that was caught in a lie. He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something- anything, but when no words leave his lips he closes it again.
"That's what I thought.", you declare while deep down you wished you were wrong, just this once.
"Please leave.", you add. Harry looks at you for a moment before he gets up from his spot on the couch. He attempts to smile at you, you can see that, but all that is forming on his face is a miserable expression. One of embarrassment and guilt. He nods before he walks towards the door. Harry reaches for the doorknob and turns it slowly, almost as if he is waiting for you to stop him. Call him back.
But you don't.
Standing in the doorframe he turns around one last time.
"I know I am really late but congrats on getting your driver's license.", he swallows thickly and exhales a shaky breath: "I hope you find someone you can bring soup to when they're sick."
Warnings: mentions of loneliness and mental health; smut in future parts, explicit language, and angst.
Summary: Your life long best friend, Deidre, invites you on a two week beach vacation to get you out of a mental funk. What she fails to tell you, though, is her multi-millionaire celebrity brother, who just so happens to be your childhood crush, is also going to be there.
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“...and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment...”
― Plato, The Symposium
tw: Death
Previous Chapters HERE
***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***
April 25th, 2000, 12:06pm
It’s been a long, long few months for Roni.
Today is one of the first warm days New York has experienced in a while, and it’s one of the first times Roni has felt strong enough to actually leave her house without breaking down and sobbing.
Still, she’s aware she isn’t exactly at peak performance either.
Presently she finds herself at the supermarket, bare-faced and exhausted. She reaches up to rub at her eyes, which at this point burn permanently with how often she’s been crying over the past few months. She’s sure she must look a mess as she walks through the building, searching numbly for the few items her grandmother had sent her for.
Her grandmother, sweet and more than mildly concerned for Roni’s well being, had thought it would be wise for Roni to get out of the house for a bit. Over the past few months, Roni has gone on a few walks here and there, but each time she’d returned home looking more wilted and devastated than she had when she’d left. It was disconcerting, to put it lightly, but of course the older woman had comforted Roni through every minute of it.
That being said, however, she’d wanted to push Roni to make the effort to get out of this funk (or at least up and over the hump that stood before her), and although it makes Roni feel strange and disgustingly vulnerable to be out here among other people like this, she can’t say she blames her grandmother for trying.
Besides, there’s something that’s been on her mind for ages now, and she thinks today is the perfect day for it.
She has to keep reminding herself to focus on the task at hand first and foremost-- although she can’t for the life of her remember if her grandmother needs 2 percent milk or skim--, because God knows she wants this grocery store trip to be over as soon as possible.
She runs a hand through her hair, realizing dismissively that it’s a bit greasy and overdue for a wash. When was the last time she took a shower?
Ultimately, Roni decides on skim milk (she figures her grandmother will forgive her if she’s wrong) and plops it unenthusiastically into the shopping basket that hangs heavy on her arm. She scans the basket, mentally checking off everything she sees and searching her foggy brain to determine if she’s missed anything.
When she’s absolutely certain she’s gotten everything on her grandmother’s list, she takes in a deep breath, turning on her heel and walking--almost robotically-- to the next area of the store she needs to go to.
The little section of less-than-fresh flowers is located directly next to the produce section, right where it’s always been, and it’s a place that Roni has visited multiple times in her life since her mother’s passing. The task of picking out the prettiest flowers is one that Roni has never taken lightly, of course, and this time is no exception.
Because this time, she isn’t going to visit the grave of her mother. She’s going to find Harry’s.
There’s a pressure on her back mixed with a tinge of anxiety as she scans the colorful flowers in their colorful wrapping. It would be doing Harry a disservice to pick some that are anything less than perfect, but then none of these seem suitable at all.
Roses? No, too dark. Violets? Ironic, but still no.
Roni is startled out of her thoughts when she hears someone behind her clear their throat. Expecting to be asked to kindly move out of the way, she shifts quickly to the right, preparing to offer whoever this person is an apologetic smile.
But then she hears her name.
When she turns she is met by none other than Oliver and his sweet, smiling face. Her heart sinks impossibly deeper into her stomach at the sight.
“Hey!” he greets, as pleasantly as he can manage. “I thought that was you but I wasn’t sure!”
Oliver looks good, save perhaps for the dark circles under his eyes that mirror Roni’s own. He seems far more well put together than Roni for sure, and she’s almost embarrassed by her own appearance. His dark hair hangs limp on his head, and the scent of his aftershave tells Roni that he’s probably just taken a shower before heading over here. She wants to hug him, purely for selfish reasons, but she thinks maybe that isn’t the best idea right now given the circumstances.
He seems to feel the same way, because he holds his hands awkwardly at his side— as if wanting to go to her, but unsure of how to go about it.
So Roni simply smiles. “Oliver,” she greets. “It’s so good to see you!”
And she does mean that. His face is an oddly comforting sight at a time like this.
“It’s good to see you, too, Ron! How have you been?” He asks this question quietly, as if he already knows the answer, but there isn’t a single trace of judgement on his face. That was something Roni had always loved about him, in fact. He never judged. He was always a much better person than she felt she could ever hope to be.
Still, it feels like a loaded question. One that she doesn’t quite feel prepared to answer in the slightest. How does one explain to their ex boyfriend of several years that they’re doing absolutely terrible?
So she shrugs, offering him a half-hearted laugh. “I mean, I’m here.”
Oliver laughs, a sympathetic smile on his face that tells her he feels the exact same way. A wordless sentiment is shared between the two in their smiles, and he nods when she giggles. “Same,” he says. “I’ve been better but… ya know.”
And god, Roni does know.
She gestures at him. “You look great.”
“Thank you! Been working out a lot. Changed my diet a bit. Just trying to be like, you know, healthier and stuff.”
Roni nods. “That’s amazing, Oliver.”
She really does mean it. He does look great, especially compared to the last time she’d seen him. Fresh out of their breakup, running on a maximum of three hours of sleep per night, wordlessly helping Roni pack up her things into boxes and moving them, along with her grandfather, back into her grandparents house.
The first few days of the new year had been awful, to say the least. Roni had hardly spoken, hardly eaten, hardly done much at all except for cry; overwhelmed with sadness and a tinge of guilt— not only for leaving Harry, but for her sudden lack of feelings towards Oliver. And Oliver, the angel that he is, stood by her. Constantly worrying, making sure she was at least drinking enough water, and trying to coax her into telling him what was wrong.
The breakup had not gone at all the way Roni had expected. But then, when do breakups ever?
It was on the 6th day of January, when Roni found herself so completely buried in her grief that she couldn’t stop crying, even for five minutes, or bring herself to step foot out of her bed. Oliver had tried everything, and was obviously growing impatient himself. When he threw his hands up and exasperatedly told Roni he was taking her to the hospital, that’s when she’d done it. She’d blurted out that she couldn’t be with him anymore.
The look on his face was enough to shatter what little bit of her heart remained intact in her chest. He’d asked for clarification, then asked again, then again. When his tears started falling, that’s when the cycle of grief started for him. Denial, bargaining, anger.
Roni, of course, couldn’t tell him everything. She couldn’t tell him about the time travel, and about Harry. She couldn’t tell him anything, really. All she could do was cry.
And cry she did. She cried so hard she got sick, and poor Oliver, through his own tears, called Roni’s grandparents because he didn’t know what else to do. Even in the days that followed, where Roni stayed in the care of her grandparents, she couldn’t give him a straight answer. She wasn’t sure where she would even start, she only begged him to understand that this was the right answer for both of them.
And all the while, her heart had ached. It had ached for her mother, and for Harry. It flooded with overwhelming grief and guilt as Roni constantly wondered if she’d done the right thing leaving 1925.
It had taken a while, but it did get a bit easier after that. Two weeks later, Roni and Oliver ended things-- officially-- both with clearer minds and hearts. Oliver helped Roni’s grandfather move the rest of her things from her and Oliver’s shared apartment back into her grandparents’ home, and she and Oliver talked things through-- as best as they could.
The official reason Roni had given Oliver for their breakup was that she didn’t know who she was on her own and she needed to figure it out; which wasn’t a lie. She had told him, in more or less words, that she was feeling misunderstood and needed to really find out who Veronica Elliot was. After all, they’d been together for nearly ten years. Ten years of her adult life in which she’d done so much growing up, but with him. She needed to grow up on her own.
And Oliver had understood that as best he could. It didn’t make the breakup hurt less by any means, but it made enough sense. All he wanted was for her to be happy, which she appreciated more than she could express. So once she’d gotten settled in with her grandparents, she and Oliver hadn’t spoken again.
Until now.
Oliver nods his head in Roni’s general direction, bringing her from her thoughts. “What’s the occasion?” he asks.
“Hm?”
“You’re shopping for flowers,” Oliver explains with a laugh. “For something good I hope!”
“Oh.” It dawns on Roni that Oliver may actually be able to help her, or at least somewhat understand her current situation. “Yeah. Kind of.” She shifts her weight to her other foot. “Actually… Oliver, do you remember Mr. Styles?”
Oliver furrows his eyebrows. “Who?”
“Mr. Styles. You were assigned to spend time with him in high school. Right before you graduated.” None of this seems to ring a bell to Oliver, so Roni sighs. “You knoooow,” she tries again. “He gave you the advice? About asking me out? You brought me to meet him?”
Oliver’s confusion only seems to deepen. He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think--”
“He died like, shortly after I met him,” Roni says, growing a bit more impatient. “You went to his funeral!”
“Roni,” Oliver says slowly, “I think you’re confused. I was assigned to Mrs. Brown. Mildred Brown. You met her, but there was no one named Mr. Styles.”
Roni shakes her head. “No,” she says. “No, that’s not true.”
“Yes it is,” Oliver insists, then chuckles. “I would’ve remembered someone with a name that cool.”
“But Harry-- Mr. Styles… he--”
“I knew pretty much every resident in that place,” Oliver says. “There was no one named Mr. Styles. At all.”
Roni lets out a breath, blinking as she tries to process exactly what Oliver is telling her. Of course there was a Mr. Styles. She remembers him vividly, both in his youth and in old age. “No…” she says slowly. “No, there definitely was.”
Oliver shakes his head. “Roni, I’m not lying to you. I knew everybody there. There was nobody with that name.”
Roni is only halfway listening to him as her thoughts run a million miles a minute. “He… no, because...” She trails off, finally blinking confusedly up at Oliver. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Oliver watches her for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. After a beat, he speaks again. “You okay?”
“Yeah it’s just… I could’ve sworn--”
“Is that who you were planning on getting the flowers for?” Oliver’s confusion continues to show on his face. “Why?”
“I just--” Roni isn’t even sure where to begin. She sighs. “I just thought… he really meant a lot to you. I wasn’t at the funeral.”
“You’re thinking of Mrs. Brown,” Oliver insists. “I loved that woman. But I haven’t thought of her in years. I’m shocked you even remember her.”
“Apparently I don’t,” Roni jokes half-heartedly. Oliver laughs.
“Where did you come up with that name anyway? It doesn’t even sound remotely familiar.”
Roni, still confused, shakes her head. “I don’t know. I must have heard it in passing or… something.”
“Yeah probably.” Oliver nods towards the flowers. “Anyways. If you’re wanting to get some flowers for Mrs. Brown, she loved lilies.”
Roni glances back towards the cheap bouquets. Lilies. Those might be good.
Her confusion only fogs up her brain more than it already is, and try as she might to hide it, it projects very easily onto her face. Oliver eyes her, as if wanting to touch her but unsure of whether or not he should.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Ron?”
“Yeah,” Roni says quickly, realizing she must look strange. “No, yeah, I’m good. Sorry. Just… brain fart I guess.”
Oliver chuckles. “I know how that goes. Had a ton of those the past couple months. Things have just been like, weird? I guess? That’s the only way I can describe it.”
“I know,” Roni agrees, a tinge of guilt striking her chest. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be!” Oliver says quickly. “Seriously. I didn’t say that to like, make you feel bad or anything. I’m just saying.”
The air is thick with tension all of a sudden, and Roni clears her throat, trying desperately to will it away. Oliver laughs awkwardly.
“Well I don’t want to keep you or anything. I’ll let you get back to your shopping. But it was really good to see you.”
The way he’s smiling at her makes Roni instantly relax, and any awkward vibes in the air fizzle away. She smiles. “It was good to see you, too. Seriously.”
There’s a brief moment of charged energy between the two, before Oliver decides to just bite the bullet and move. He reaches forward before Roni can really even process it and he wraps her up in a hug.
It feels ridiculously comforting in a way that Roni would have never expected, and she surprises herself when she feels her eyes grow misty. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed a hug just in general, and she definitely hadn’t thought the most comforting one would come from Oliver himself. She relaxes into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and giving him a gentle squeeze in return.
They stay like this for a while, and Roni realizes that Oliver probably needs this just as badly as she does. She feels him take a deep breath in through his nose, burying it in her hairline and sighing quietly under his breath. He’s missed her. And Roni can’t lie and she hasn’t missed him, it’s just different.
She can’t go back to him. She absolutely cannot.
“Please take care of yourself,” Oliver mumbles, before finally pulling out of the hug.
“Hm?”
“Take care of yourself, Ron. Go easy on yourself. Please.”
His words touch Roni’s heart, and she smiles. “Oh. You too.”
He smiles right back at her, and there’s a long moment where she feels like he might say something else. Ultimately he decides against it, and he nods in finality. “Right,” he says. “See ya.”
He’s gone before Roni has even finished saying her goodbye, and she’s left feeling empty and somewhat melancholy. How is it possible to feel so simultaneously relieved, as if some unexpected closure has occurred between the two, and yet so hollow, as if far too many words were left unspoken?
Roni’s stomach churns and she clears her throat, trying to re-center herself.
Flowers. Harry’s grave. Right.
She knows what Oliver just said, and it confuses her to no end, but she isn’t going to give up that easily. She’s certainly not just going to take his word for it; she has to see for herself. She believes the finality of seeing Harry’s grave-- if there even is one-- will grant her the strength to push forward. To know in her heart that what she had with him is long gone. Otherwise, she fears she’ll never be able to shake the feeling that there is lingering unfinished business between them, and it will continue to haunt her until she knows for certain.
Even if Oliver insists Mr. Styles never existed. She has to try.
So Roni sighs, reaching for a bouquet of white lilies that seem to be the least wilted out of all of their counterparts, before making her way to the checkout line.
———————-
The cemetery is somber, but it brings a peaceful sense of calm over Roni as she steps through the gates. It’s colder and cloudier than it was this morning, and Roni finds herself wishing she’d brought a jacket. She takes a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed as she scans the many headstones before her. Finding Mr. Styles’ grave is going to be far more difficult than she’d anticipated.
She takes a step forward along the gravel road that winds through the expansive cemetery. She hadn’t realized it was going to be such a large place, with headstones covering the hills everywhere she turns. It’s only the slightest bit disheartening, but Roni is no quitter. If she can’t find his headstone today, she’ll return tomorrow; and if necessary, every day after that until she finds it.
Oliver’s words echo in Roni’s mind as she walks, scanning each headstone for the name she wants so desperately to see. Why didn’t he remember Harry? Surely she hadn’t dreamt that entire day in which she met the elderly gentleman; she has vivid memories of Oliver calling her cousin’s house where she was staying the day of the funeral and telling her how upset he was. That was real. The books on his nightstand were real.
Harry was real.
In the distance, someone sits on the balcony of their apartment and plays guitar. It’s a melancholy song, and although Roni knows they’re just practicing and this has nothing to do with her, it feels strangely fitting. Roni smiles to herself, enjoying the music, as she continues her way down the path.
It feels silly in a way, to be here without any knowledge of the location of Harry’s gravesite or if it’s even in this cemetery at all. In hindsight, she feels, she could have done just a bit more research. She could have called around, done some inquiring about Harry. To be fair, though, she had called his old retirement home only to find that it was no longer a retirement home, but a preschool; a fact that she found quite odd. The circle of life, so to speak.
As she scans the headstones, she reads each name quietly to herself. She figures it may be best to take the cemetery in sections; a section or two today, another tomorrow. It makes the task feel far less daunting and besides, she could use some more peaceful walks like this in her daily life.
She runs her fingertips along the rough top of a headstone, soberly realizing that there are caskets beneath her very feet at this exact moment. Realizing that everyone ends up here in their lives, and that one day she too will end up here. The thought of Harry being somewhere beneath this grass, however, makes her stomach churn. She hates that she’s here, and she knows it’s too late, but she’s hoping it will give her some type of the closure that she’s aching for.
Roni sighs, muttering a gentle “where are you?” under her breath as she scans the headstones.
She continues along the dirt path, shyly chuckling to herself at some of the names (and immediately feeling guilty for it). She switches the bouquet of flowers from her right hand to her left and wipes her sweaty palm along the thigh of her jeans.
As Roni continues her walk, she grows a bit colder than before. She wraps her free hand around her stomach, as if it’s going to help, and sniffles when the wind tickles her hair across her nose. Today had started out so misleading with such beautiful weather, and now she’s shivering against the chilly wind.
It’s about thirty minutes later when Roni happens upon a headstone bearing a name that draws her attention. The name isn’t exactly the one she’s been searching so desperately for, but it does interest her. She goes to it. turning off the gravel path and walking along the moist grass. As she approaches, she reads aloud from it.
“Mrs. Mildred Brown. Beloved wife and mother. Born October 12th, 1899. Died June 6th, 1990.” Roni sighs as she continues, reading the passage from the Bible written in script along the bottom. “‘Well done thou good and faithful servant.’ Matthew 25:21.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t understand,” she mumbles, squatting down beside the headstone to get a better look.
It all checks out, as far as Oliver’s story goes. She regrets not asking him for more information while she had the chance, however. How did Mrs. Brown die? What was it like the day Roni supposedly met her? Had Mrs. Brown been interested in time travel? Why is none of this making sense in Roni’s brain?
As Roni processes all of this, she suddenly gets the unmistakable feeling that she’s being watched. It isn’t a threatening feeling by any means, but she can practically feel a pair of eyes on her out of nowhere, and it is somewhat unsettling.
Of course, her logical brain thinks, she is at a cemetery. There are other people here, no doubt, visiting loved ones. She tries to brush off the feeling, running her thumb over the carved indentations spelling out Mrs. Brown’s name.
Roni notices a rock atop the headstone, indicating that someone has been here to visit Mrs Brown’s grave recently. She feels it would be disrespectful to touch the stone, so she refrains. Instead, she just looks at it, wondering who could’ve left it-- someone in Mrs. Brown’s family?-- and why she can’t, for the life of her, remember this woman.
She can’t shake the feeling that she’s being watched, however, and she glances over her shoulder subtly to see if she can see anyone. She waits a moment, and just as she turns back to observe the headstone once more, she swears she hears her own name.
“Roni.”
The voice is feminine and foreign yet so familiar all at once, and Roni isn’t even sure she’s
actually heard it when she stands up. She turns to her right slowly on her heel, expecting to see someone and feeling slightly disturbed when she doesn’t. She licks her lips, feeling her heart rate increase.
“Who--”
She hears it again, closer now and coming from the other direction, and she turns to her left. Instantly, she is relieved when she realizes who the voice belongs to.
There, standing against a tree with that beautiful, all-knowing smile, stands Violet. Dressed as if she’s just walked straight out of the 1920s.
Perhaps she has.
A million thoughts run through Roni’s head; how did Violet get here? How did Violet know she’d be here? Violet nods, as if reading Roni’s mind.
“Hello, dear.”
Realizing she hasn’t said a word, Roni laughs lightly. “Violet!” She walks over to the mysterious girl, smiling wide. “God, it’s so good to see you.”
As she approaches, she wonders if it would be polite to give Violet a hug. Are they at that level of friendship? Do they know each other that well? Is it weird?
Violet doesn’t allow any more time for Roni to overthink, instead taking charge and pulling her into her arms for a warm embrace.
It’s so ridiculously comforting, and Roni hadn’t even realized just how badly she needed this. When Violet pulls away, she continues to hold Roni at arm’s length, scanning her face. “How have you been?”
“Well…” Roni trails off, then shrugs. “I mean. Not great.” She laughs. “And you?”
“I’ve been well,” Violet replies, voice calming and warm. “My, but it’s good to see you.”
“It’s so good to see you too, Violet. What are you doing here?”
Violet smiles, something subconsciously shifting in her tone, though not in a bad way. “I had a feeling I would find you here,” she explains.
“But how?” Roni asks. “Why today? Why right now?” She leans in. “Why me?”
Violet doesn’t directly answer Roni’s question. “I’ve come to bring you something,” she says, reaching into a satchel that rests on her hip. “Something that might be of great value to you.”
Roni doesn’t want to get her hopes up that this gift has anything to do with Harry, but it’s too late. “Something of great value?”
“Sentimental, if anything.”
Roni can’t help but to deflate. “Oh.”
Violet finds whatever it is that she was looking for and retrieves it from the satchel. It seems to be a folded piece of paper, and she holds it out for Roni to take. Roni hesitates, eyeing the paper cautiously, before taking it from Violet’s hands.
“Read it,” Violet prompts. “It might make you smile.”
Slowly, carefully, Roni unfolds the paper. Her heart starts pounding as her mind runs through all the possibilities of what this could be. Before the note is even fully opened, she stops when she recognizes her own handwriting.
“I know what this is,” she says, looking up at Violet slowly.
“You do,” Violet says, nodding. “Read it.”
Roni swallows down the lump in her throat, casting her eyes back to the paper and reading silently to herself.
Harry-
If you’re reading this, it means that I left. I am safely back where I came from, proving you wrong-- just like I knew I would. However, it seemed rude to leave without a proper goodbye. So here it is. I know I only stayed one night with you, but you’ve been really great. I hope your new year is “swell” or whatever it is you’d say, and that all your hopes and dreams come true. Thanks for letting me stay with you. Sorry about the black eye. Take care.
-Roni
Roni looks back up at Violet, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “I wrote this the day after I got there,” she says, as if Violet didn’t know.
Violet nods again. “You did.”
Roni shakes her head, feeling tears prickle at her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she admits, shrugging in submission, as if Violet is about to play some trick on her.
“Harry’s kept it,” Violet explains, and the way she speaks of Harry in the present tense makes Roni’s heart pound.
“He’s…?”
“Kept it,” Violet repeats. “Yes. He found it under his bed a few days after you left.”
“Is he…” Roni doesn’t want to get her hopes up, so she hesitates to ask. “I mean, are you... have you—“
“I have seen him since you left,” Violet answers, smiling knowingly. “Yes.”
Roni swallows the lump rising her throat as the wind whips her hair lightly against her cheeks. “Is he alright?” The question comes out in a whisper.
“He is alright.” Violet nods. “He misses you.”
For some reason, Violet’s words completely overwhelm Roni. She can’t stop her eyes from welling over with tears immediately , and she lets out a little choking laugh. “God,” she says, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. “Does he?”
“Yes, darling.”
“I miss him so much,” Roni says, only half-heartedly attempting to stop her crying. “Can you tell him that?”
“I can.”
Roni laughs again through her tears and steps closer to Violet. “God, I’m sorry. I probably look like a mess. I just can’t believe you’re here, and I…” She trails off, looking down at the paper in her trembling hands. “It’s real,” she says, almost as if reassuring herself. “He was real. This is real.”
“It is real,” Violet says. “You didn’t imagine him.”
“I’ve felt so…” Roni gestures vaguely as she searches for her words. “So stupid, I guess. I don’t know. I haven’t been able to tell anyone the truth. I’ve started doubting myself. I-- I mean it all just seems so crazy, doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t.” Violet shakes her head. “Not to me. Though I can understand the hesitation to share your experience with others.”
“And I broke up with Oliver, you know,” Roni continues. “Oliver, my boyfriend. We were together for so long and I… I didn’t love him. I mean I did, but not the way I love Harry. Or… loved Harry. I guess. But I--” she laughs. “God, I’ve never felt more alone in my life than I have in the past like, four months, and I-- I can’t even begin to tell you how good it is to see you. To see… this.” She gestures at the letter, then speaks again; quieter this time, as if to herself. “Fuck, I miss him.”
“Your feelings are completely understandable, Veronica. And justified. You have been through so much. It’s only natural to feel confused. And the connection you have with Harry transcends time itself. But these are odd circumstances, and certainly not a situation that anyone should be expected to know how to navigate. You are not stupid for feeling this way.”
“No,” Roni laughs, almost bitterly. “No, I am. I know I am. It’s just… god, you’re helping me so much just by being here but I--” she sniffs, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt, “I don’t know. I know I need to move on. I know I can’t go back to him but I want to. More than anything else in the world.”
“What would you tell him if you could?” Violet asks, cocking her head to the side.
“Oh god,” Roni says, dabbing at her teary eyes. “I would say…” she trails off, really considering what it is exactly that she would say to Harry if given the chance. She sighs shakily. “I would tell him he’s the love of my life. I would tell him he is the greatest thing that has ever and will ever happen to me in this lifetime. In any lifetime. That I regret leaving him more than anything I’ve ever done. That I miss him. That I love him.”
Roni doesn’t notice the way Violet’s eyes flicker behind her, because she’s still going. “And it’s silly,” she continues, “but I have never stopped hoping he’ll come. I cant…” she sniffs again, “Can’t bring myself to stop. Even though I know he isn’t coming, I’ve never stopped looking for him. I don’t know if I ever will, you know?”
Violet smiles like she knows something that Roni doesn’t, but before Roni can even question it, a voice comes from behind her.
“Well,” it says, slow and deep. “The funny thing about that is, he’s never stopped looking for you either.”
It takes Roni a full ten seconds to even process what she’s hearing, and Violet’s all knowing smile only deepens. Roni whirls around on her heels slowly, her feet still feel frozen into the muddy, damp ground.
And there’s Harry, as young and as handsome as ever, if not a little bit older than the last time she’s seen him.
He smiles, tears welling in his own eyes as he takes a step towards her. “In every timeline,” he says, and takes another step, “in every lifetime. He’s never stopped looking.” He stands only a few mere feet away now, and Roni notes the single tear rolling down his cheek, contrasting his unwavering smile.
“I’ve kept my promise, bunny.”
In a whirlwind, Roni is rushing to him. She trips and stumbles a bit on the mud, falling directly into his arms. She doesn’t even bother standing upright, melting instead into his embrace and wrapping her own arms around him. He does his best to straighten her on her own feet, his arms wrapping tightly around her back, but he loses his own footing and falls ungracefully onto his back.
Neither seem to care about their tumble, and Roni crawls up his body— kissing every possible inch of visible skin she can get her lips onto. Her tears blend into Harry’s own, and he laughs joyfully against her lips as he wraps a supportive arm around her back.
“My god,” Roni sobs into his neck. “My god, my god, what are you doing here?”
“I told you,” Harry says, not even worried about the way his voice cracks. “I never stopped looking. And I found you.”
Roni giggles a wet, teary giggle, squishing his face in her hands and fastening their lips together in a clumsy kiss. He willingly kisses her back, stabilizing her with his hands and squeezing her as if he can’t hold her tight enough.
“Harry,” she sobs, “I missed you so much.”
“Me too, sweetheart.” He kisses her teary cheek. “So fucking much.”
Roni presses a few more haphazard kisses to his lips, as if terrified that she’ll lose him the second she stops. She pulls away after a moment, scanning his face through her own blurry eyes.
“I don’t understand,” she says, “how did you get here?”
Harry beams. “Some people have the gift. Some do not.”
“And you have it?!” Roni asks. “You had it this whole time?!”
Harry laughs at the urgency in Roni’s voice, reaching up to wipe the tears out of his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess so. Violet helped me.”
“Violet!” Roni says, suddenly remembering the witchy girl’s presence. She turns to where Violet had just been standing minutes before, and is surprised to see that she is no longer there. Harry and Roni both scan the graveyard, but Violet is in fact nowhere to be found. Roni furrows her brows. “Where did she go?”
Harry doesn’t reply, instead he tilts Roni’s face towards him for another smiley kiss. Roni needs absolutely no persuasion, melting right into him and sighing contentedly.
“I’m so happy,” she cries against his mouth. “So fucking happy.”
“Yeah?” Harry pulls away, tears still streaming freely down his smiling cheeks. “Me too.”
“This feels like a dream,” Roni giggles. “Genuinely. And if it is, I hope I never wake up.”
Harry giggles. “It’s not a dream, sweet girl. I’m here. And I’m staying.”
Roni scans his face for any sign of sarcasm, taken aback by his words. “You’re… staying?” She asks. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but God the thought of Harry being hers forever makes her heart pound in her own ears. “Are you serious?”
Harry beams brilliantly at her, letting go of her back to shrug. “Better be prepared to teach me a thing or two about the future, angel. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”
“Oh my god.” Roni slams her lips into Harry’s, so much so that their teeth clank together, and he chuckles lightly into her mouth.
“I love you,” he says, lips hardly moving from hers. “I love you so fucking much.”
“I don’t understand,” Roni says, pulling back but still holding Harry in her arms. “How did you figure it out? I mean like, the fact that you can time travel. How did you--”
“Trial and error,” Harry explains. “Violet wanted me to wait a while. She said that it would be difficult to learn if I tried right after you left. The broken heart would make it more devastating if we failed.” Harry smiles. “Smart girl, Violet is. But I couldn’t wait very long. About a week later, we started working together to get this all sorted out. We worked on exercises. We worked on visualization. We did everything.”
“And then?”
“It took some time. Obviously. Went to a few different places.” He grins. “The 18th century was a lot of fun.”’
“You went that far back?”
“Sure did. Almost didn’t want to leave.” A playful twinkle glistens in Harry’s eye. “Some old Victorian broad showed me her ankle and I was ready to propose marriage.”
Roni slaps his arm lightly. “Shut up.”
Harry laughs, finding himself so hilarious. “M’joking,” he says. “Of course that didn’t happen.”
“Where else did you go?” Roni asks, then softens. “What took you so long to find me?”
“Wanted to make sure I had the technique perfected,” Harry explains. “Wanted to be sure I knew how to control where I was going. The first time I traveled was only to 1899, and it was quite unintentional. The second time, I was experimenting a bit. That’s how I ended up in 1778. But there was a catch.”
“Which was?”
“It was a different 1778. Not one that you’ve heard of.”
Roni looks confused. “But… how--”
Harry grins like he knows something Roni doesn’t. “Ever heard of parallel universes?”
Roni can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips. “Well holy shit.”
“I take it you’re familiar with the concept?”
“I am,” Roni says. “You were the one who told me about it.”
Harry raises his eyebrows, then immediately furrows them in confusion. “I did? I don’t remember—“
“As an old man,” Roni explains. “I met you when you were like… 90 something.”
“No but… that would mean...” Roni trails off, confusion etched into her features, as she processes everything that’s going on. “I saw you… you were old…. you died. And Oliver said you… you always talked about this girl from your past... That would have been me, wouldn’t it?”
“I tapped into something even you couldn’t tap into.” Harry seems proud of himself, and he flashes Roni that smug grin she’s missed so much.
“What do you mean?”
“Alternate realities,” Harry explains. “Shifting into another dimension.”
“But how does that--”
“In another universe, yes. Somewhere in time, your memories are true. I was old. I was unsuccessful in finding you. In that universe--” he gestures vaguely around the graveyard, “--I’m six feet under somewhere around here.”
Even he seems to be hit with the somberness of his words. He takes a moment to let that sink in, and then he’s right back to his normal, cheery self. “But!” he says. “I shifted. Into this reality. With the help of Violet, I created a separate timeline.”
“At the cost of--?”
Harry sighs. “I mean. At the cost of some of the people I loved most back home.” He shrugs. “But that’s what alternate universes are for, I suppose.”
“Why couldn’t I have just… created my own alternate universe then? In which I could have kept my mom alive AND stayed with you? Why didn’t Violet give me that option?”
“You could have,” Harry explains. “But there wasn’t a guarantee you could have both. Plus, once you leave one, it is extremely difficult, if not entirely impossible, to get back. You weren’t willing or ready to make that sacrifice. I was.”
“So we’re in a parallel universe?”
“I am. You’re not. You’re in your regular timeline.”
“And you--”
“Shifted into it. Changed the fate’s design, so to speak. It did shift your timeline a bit, as far as my own existence goes. You remember me being old. You remember Oliver attending my funeral. But Oliver doesn’t. No one has any memory of me, in fact.”
“So who are you to everyone then?”
“That’s the beauty of it.” Harry grins. “I’m whoever I want to be. For all they know, I’m a famous singer from the UK who moved here for work.”
“Oh my god,” Roni giggles, leaning in to kiss all over his sweet, teary face once again.
Harry smiles that dimpled smile, obviously over the moon and basking in the way she’s loving on him.
“My sweet boy,” Roni says, lips smushed just below his ear. “My sweet, sweet boy.”
“Missed you,” Harry says quietly. “Couldn’t go on in a world without you.”
Roni bumps her nose tenderly along Harry’s. “I missed you so much.”
Harry laughs quietly to himself. “Can’t even begin to tell you how excited I was when I ended up here. Cried with happiness.”
“How long have you been here?”
Harry’s eyes dart up to the sky as he thinks, doing a bit of mental math in his head. “Two days. Give or take.”
Roni feigns offense. “And you didn’t come find me right away?!”
“Tried. Couldn’t. Didn’t know where you’d be.”
“But how did Violet know?”
Harry smirks. “I don’t know. I don’t know how she knows anything. But it seems she knows everything.”
Roni chuckles. “Apparently so. God.”
Harry hums, brushing Roni’s hair behind her ear and leaning in to kiss her nose. “God, I love you,” he says.
“I love you, too, Harry. Thank you for finding me.”
“Promised you I would,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Was so hoping more than anything that you’d be waiting for me.”
Now Roni frowns. “You had doubts?”
Harry shrugs. “No. I mean…” he trails off, eyes scanning the sweeping hills of the cemetery as he considers his words. “No. I don’t know. I was hopeful.”
“But…?” Roni presses, leaning into him.
“But you lived in the future. You had--” he trails off, eyeing Roni carefully. “--have…. A boyfriend?” His statement turns into a question, and the look on his face makes Roni giggle.
“Had,” she answers. “We broke up. Very shortly after I came back.”
Harry frowns. “M’sorry to hear that. Was it… you know...?”
Roni shrugs. “I was hopeful, too,” is the only answer she offers him.
“Hopeful for me?”
“Yeah.”
“You knew I’d find you.”
Roni kisses Harry’s cheek. “I hoped you would.”
“Poor bloke though. I know how hard it is to live in a world without you.”
“Somehow I think he’ll manage.” Roni giggles. “No, actually, I saw him this morning. When I was—“ She trails off, suddenly remembering the bouquet of flowers she’d bought that now lays forgotten a few feet away. Harry seems to notice them at the same time she does, and he turns back to her. He doesn’t push for her to finish her thought, he instead strokes her hair and admires the way it looks in the wind.
“I was going to put flowers on your grave,” Roni explains, sheepishly. “I don’t know what I was thinking was going to happen. Maybe… like, closure or something. I don’t know.”
“Closure,” Harry repeats, smiling. “Wanted rid of the haunting memories of me then?”
Roni rolls her eyes but she giggles that giggle that Harry has dreamt about every night since she’d left. “No, god, of course not,” she laughs. “It’s just that living with the weight of how much I missed you…” She trails off again, and Harry can see the gears turning in her head as she immediately processes another thought. “I still don’t understand,” she says. “I never believed you when you told me. You as an old man, I mean. I’d brushed it off. I hadn’t thought it was realistic.”
Now it’s Harry’s turn to feign offense. “As realistic as time travel.”
“I know,” Roni giggles again. “It’s just that you were old when you told me. I didn’t know you.”
Harry grins now. “Was I a handsome old bastard?”
Roni’s giggles turn into full belly laughs. “I mean, I was like, sixteen. So I didn’t think so, no.”
“Bollocks,” Harry curses, and Roni snorts.
“This is insane,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m talking to you about… well, you… but as an old man. Memories I have of you, that you didn’t even exist for. But you did. I don’t know.”
Harry nods. “It’s an odd thing,” he agrees. “An odd situation we find ourselves in for sure.”
Roni hums in agreement, and a moment of comfortable silence falls between the two. She giggles after a moment, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her fingers and kissing his lips again, slow and smiley.
“God,” she says, when she finally pulls away. “I still feel like I’m dreaming.”
Harry pulls that cheeky look of his that Roni’s missed so much, wiggling his eyebrows. “You want me to pinch you, honey?” He squeezes lightly at her sides and she squeals, wiggling out of his grasp. He beams at the sound, wrapping an arm around her quickly and pulling her right back into him before smooching all over her cheeks and her nose. “C’mere,” he growls playfully. “Not getting away from me that easily. Never again.”
She continues to giggle, submitting completely to him as he tilts her head and kisses her. They laugh into one another’s mouths, their giggles dying down as their kisses increase in intensity. His tongue trails along her bottom lip, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly Roni grants him access to her own tongue. She’s missed his taste more than she’d ever thought it possible, and she can’t help but to moan when her tongue slides along his.
“Fuck,” she whispers, completely unaware of the fact that she’s crying again.
“Hey,” Harry coos, pulling away and cupping her face with his hands. “Stop that. No more of that. No more crying.” He swipes at the tears under her eyes, stroking her cheek bones as lovingly as he can. There is no way to convey exactly how he’s feeling right now; he’s just so in love with her and so relieved to be holding her again. Seeing her cry, indicative that she feels the exact same way, makes his heart both sink and soar, and his eyes well up with tears all over again.
They both realize he’s crying too at the exact same time, and they laugh at how silly they’re both being. Harry, still holding Roni’s face in his hands, continues to wipe at her tears while she reaches up to wipe at his. They continue to laugh and cry and kiss, holding one another as close as they possibly can and forgetting about the entire world around them.
After a little while, Harry pushes himself to his feet with a little grunt. Roni immediately misses his warmth, which is pathetic, she knows. She can’t help the little whine that escapes past her lips as she reaches for him, and he chuckles as he takes her hand in his. “I’ll be right back, honey, I promise.” He gives her hand a quick squeeze before turning on his heel to go retrieve her discarded bouquet of flowers.
Roni watches him, so completely enamored and in love with him as he walks. He’s dressed sort of funky, not quite in his 1920s style but definitely outdated by today’s standards. He isn’t wearing his cap that she’s missed so much, but his curls are styled messily-- which isn’t helped at all by the wind. He looks so handsome. So soft. So him.
Her Harry.
She still feels like she’s dreaming in all honesty, and as she keeps her eyes glued to him she revels in the fact that he’s here. This person that she’s quite literally ached for for months now, the person she didn’t think she could possibly live without, the person she never thought she’d see again— he’s here. He found his way back to her because he loves her. It simply doesn’t feel real.
Harry picks up the bouquet and buries his nose in them, taking a big inhale and smiling to himself with the cutest dimpled smile. He looks back to see Roni— his sweet Veronica sitting there on the grass, wind whipping her hair and a silly, sweet smile on her face. He’s overwhelmed, really, and he walks quickly to close the space between him and his girl.
When Harry arrives by Roni’s side he plops right back down beside her, kissing both cheeks and the tip of her nose. When he pulls away, he’s smiling softly, and he nods down to the bouquet in his hands. “These were for me?”
“Yeah,” Roni says, somewhat bashfully. “I mean… for your grave. So. Yeah, for you but like… not? I don’t know.”
Harry chuckles, humming as he nods. “Mm.” He reaches into the cheap paper that holds the bouquet together and fingers lightly at a petal. “These are lilies.”
Roni, impressed by his knowledge of botany, smiles. “They are, yeah! How’d you know?”
Harry laughs. “Wasn’t born yesterday, Veronica, for heaven’s sake,” he teases. “In fact, I was born….” Harry scrunches his face, doing a bit of mental math in his head. “About a hundred and one years ago I think!”
“Holy shit,” Roni says, doing the math in her own head. “So you’re… old.”
“Technically, I suppose,” Harry chuckles. “But also, not actually.” He kisses her temple, then reaches into the paper bouquet. Roni wonders briefly what he’s doing, until she sees him snap a lily off of its stem. It looks so delicate between his fingers it makes her shiver, and she hardly has time to register what he’s doing before he’s tucking it gently behind her ear. He moves slowly, his thick fingers brushing lovingly against her skin.
Harry’s eyes scan her face, and in this moment Roni has never felt more loved. He cups her jaw and runs his thumb along her cheek, his green eyes still wet with tears. He hums, his mouth looking so irresistibly delicious, and Roni holds his eye contact with bated breath, waiting for him to do something.
“You are so beautiful,” he says softly, almost more to himself than to her. “My beautiful girl.”
“Your beautiful girl,” Roni repeats, leaning into his touch. “Thank you for finding me.”
“I’ll always find you, Veronica.” Harry drops his hand from her jaw and wraps it around her smaller hand that’s placed in her lap. “In every timeline,” he leans in and kisses her forehead, “in every lifetime,” he kisses her nose, “I will find you,” her lips, “and I will love you with everything I have to give until my heart stops beating.” He kisses her lips again, slower this time, before resting his forehead to hers and allowing his eyes to close.
They sit like this, silently drinking in one another’s presence, and when a tear slips down Roni’s cheek neither of them mention it. Harry presses velvety kisses to Roni’s lips every few seconds or so, and even he’s crying after a bit.
No words are spoken, but no words are necessary. In fact, it doesn’t feel like there would be any words to even begin to describe the happiness in both of their hearts presently. Roni swallows down a lump in her throat and giggles, sniffling a bit.
“God,” she says, “I think I’ve cried more in the past few months than I have in my entire life.”
“Well we’re fixing that,” Harry says, pulling away and wiping at her tears. “Effective immediately. No more tears. From here on out.”
“You promise?”
“Only happy ones. I promise.”
Roni licks her lips, then leans back in to kiss him again. “I like the sound of that.”
They stay like this for a while, disregarding the way it’s getting colder by the minute and the way that the tiny bit of sun that’s peeking through the clouds is beginning to dip behind the treetops. Roni catches him up one everything that’s happened in her life since she’d left him, and Harry tells her all about all the adventures he’s had while trying to find her. They laugh, and they continue to cry on and off (which makes them laugh harder) until Harry finally notices Roni shiver subconsciously at a gust of wind.
“Getting colder,” he observes, then adds “perhaps we should get out of here.”
Roni hums in agreement. “We should. You’ve got to meet my grandparents.”
Harry’s face changes into somewhat amused confusion. “Already?”
“What?” Roni says, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt off of her jeans. “If you’re going to be staying with us you’re going to have to meet them eventually.”
“Yes, but….” Harry rises to his feet as well. “Don’t you think we ought to do this right? I mean, they don’t know me, you’ve just broken up with your long term boyfriend, they’re going to think I’m a creep.”
Roni giggles. “They won’t. I promise. I’ll say you’re a friend from college who’s recently moved to town. We caught up today and you needed a place to stay for a bit. They won’t care.”
“They won’t think it’s… I don’t know, improper?”
“You’ve never met my grandparents,” Roni says. “They’re like the chillest people ever.”
When she’s met with only a look of pure confusion on Harry’s face, she laughs again. “You’re in the twenty-first century now, Harry. It’s your turn to adapt.” She lightly pinches his side, causing him to laugh.
“Suppose so,” Harry giggles, taking her hand in his and interlacing their fingers. “Lots to learn. I have a feeling you’re an excellent teacher, though.”
Roni smiles, swinging their hands as they fall into step, walking along the gravel road winding through the cemetery. “Well, I’ll do my best,” she says. “It’s the least I can do for you after you bent the laws of time itself to come and find me and all that.”
“Exactly,” Harry says, nodding. “Although I won’t lie to you, Veronica, I’m a bit nervous to get it all sorted out.”
Roni gives Harry’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t be,” she replies. “We don’t have to have it all sorted out. When have we ever had anything sorted out?” She laughs quietly to herself. “I’ve come to find that life is much better unplanned.”
“Yeah?” Harry squints, eyes scanning the vast hills as the wind whips his curls messily. “Well, I’ve come to find that you’re right about most things.”
The silence that follows is comforting and soft, but both are thinking the exact same thing. Sure, it is a bit terrifying to start a life together--properly--like this. Harry is here to stay, and as wonderful and exciting as that is, they both know it’s going to be hard work. He’s going to have to adapt, and it isn’t going to be easy. He’s starting from scratch. No job, no house, nothing.
But he does have his honey by his side. And somehow that’s enough.
They exit the cemetery, hand in hand, and Harry tries his best not to look so clueless as he observes the world around him. Roni is patient and gentle with him, answering any questions he has and giggling when he makes jokes. They’ve fallen into their comfortable swing of things that they’ve both missed so deeply, and Harry reckons that with his Veronica holding his hand, he can conquer anything.
As they approach Roni’s grandparents’ house, however, the butterflies in Harry’s stomach begin to act up. His hands grow sweaty and he hopes Roni doesn’t notice. (She does.) He wipes his free hand on the thigh of his trousers and swallows, slowing the pace of his walking until he stops altogether.
He looks up at the big house, daunting but quaint and surrounded by a completely innocent looking white picket fence, and he can feel Roni watching him. She’s nervous, too, he knows it. She gives his hand a squeeze before letting go, and his hand falls dully to his side.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” Roni asks quietly. “I mean, are you sure this is what you want? To be here, in a different time, re-learning the world and the people in it?”
Harry turns to her now. “Of course this is what I want,” he insists, almost defensively. “I just… it’s a bit more scary close up, isn’t it?”
Roni knows he isn’t talking about the house.
“It is,” she says slowly, after a beat. “But, if I know anything for sure, it’s that you and I make an excellent team. Whatever the circumstance, we can navigate it together, even if we haven’t got a clue what the right answer is. Somehow I know we’re always going to figure it out.” She lowers her voice, stepping in closer to Harry. “You’re the bravest, most wonderful man I know, Harry. You’re going to be fine.”
He turns to her, smiling as he swallows down the nauseous feeling in his throat. She beams. “You’re going to be just fine,” she repeats.
Harry reaches forward, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to each of her knuckles. “Alright,” he says quietly. “I’m ready.”
Roni smiles, squeezing his hand again and taking a deep breath in through her nose. “To our new life,” she says.
“To our future,” Harry adds. “To… forever.”
Roni nods. “Forever. Yeah.”
With deep breaths and trembling fingers, Harry and Roni step though the little gate surrounding the yard of the house and make their way onward. Into their future. Into the intimidating uncertainty of navigating a life brought on by such unique and odd circumstances. Two souls, interwoven and transcending time and space itself for the chance to be together, taking on the new set of challenges that await them because they have each other.
No matter where they end up in any lifetime, together or apart, they will always find one another somewhere in time.
