There was such a lightness in my chest when we finally headed back inside. Harry's eyes met mine as soon as I took my first step back into the room, and I immediately moved over to where he was standing.
"Oh, good timing," he tilted his chin up a little as I approached, looping an arm around my waist, just as a waiter entered the room with a cake in his hands, filled with lit candles. I raised my eyebrows.
"Oh my god," I laughed, feeling Harry pull me back against his chest as the waiter approached, and everyone started to sing. Just as it had been on Elin's birthday - not one single note could be found, with everybody gathering around us to sing 'Happy Birthday', loudly and dramatically.
Harry was swaying me around, and I caught everybody holding their drinks up as they sang, throwing their heads back with passion and conviction. All I could do was look around; taking it all in - all of them, singing and gleefully celebrating my birthday.
"Wish hard, baby," Harry teased against my ear as the song came to an end, and his hands dropped to my waist as I leaned in to blow the candles out. I'd never made a birthday wish - never, and if I had ever had the chance, before, I was sure there would've been a million and one things I was desperately aching for - but now, I could've racked my brain endlessly. There wasn't anything I wanted, for the first time in my life - nothing that I yearned for, other than this. I already had it.
With a puff of smoke from the candles, everybody began to cheer, applauding as I thanked the waiter and he set the cake down on the table. In my belief that I'd never be able to have this, I'd convinced myself I would hate it - to have everybody focused on you, even though it was in a positive light; the last thing I wanted was everybody in the room to grant me their attention. The eyes in this room, however, were anything but judgemental, or scary. They were my friends.
This acceptance of how I felt for Harry had somehow made the room look even brighter. It was like I'd been able to look at him, and everybody else, through a whole other lens - one that didn't feel so clouded, or weighted.
"What is it?" he murmured, holding onto my hips after a moment or two had passed. His eyes were soft as he peered down at me; a lazy grin on his lips. I supposed he could see it in my eyes.
"I'm just happy," I whispered back, running a hand softly over the edge of his chin. I watched how he gently tilted his head to enable my movements, as I leant up to press another short kiss to his lips. I ran my fingers over the opening of his shirt, looping the fabric between my fingers.
All I could think about was how desperate I'd been to ignore this day; how the idea of us coming to Italy for my birthday had been enough to make me worry, and panic - but how this had somehow become one of the greatest experiences I'd ever had.
"You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that," he replied, kissing my forehead another time as his arm wound properly around my waist to pull me closer. His eyes were soft, and emotive as they peered down into mine. He murmured, then, "It's all I want."
I still felt like I was floating by the time I had to say 'goodbye' to everyone. Harry had set everybody up to stay in a hotel nearby - somewhere in between the restaurant, and our apartment. It meant that we separated from them to travel back, in separate cars.
It was practically a given that we'd all meet up again tomorrow - before, finally, we'd all be leaving Italy. I didn't even want to fathom that, quite yet - I didn't want to think about leaving this blissful place behind, and so I didn't. I was testing that out; for once, just being present - not worrying, and torturing myself. It didn't matter if I had to leave tomorrow; tonight, I was here, and I was happy.
It was much colder when we stepped outside, and there was barely the faintest of lights to illuminate the street we inhabited. I still had Harry's jacket around me, and I tried to offer it back to him, but he insisted his shirt was enough, refusing to let the cold touch my bare arms for even a second.
Both of the cars pulled up to take us all back, and I immediately reached for Grace to pull her into yet another unbelievably tight hug. I'd already insisted that she join us all for breakfast tomorrow, and she hadn't hesitated to accept my invitation. Everything felt so perfect - even as I had to separate from them all, tonight.
"Thank you so much for coming here," I murmured against her ear as I hugged her tight, drowned out by the chatter of the others individually saying goodbye to Harry. I caught Mitch pulling him into a tight hug, over Grace's shoulder, and I couldn't fight the fond smile on my lips as I watched him whisper something to Harry.
"I would never miss it," Grace returned, squeezing me back before she finally let go, a wide grin on her lips. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I said goodbye to each of the others - each hug feeling so warm and familiar, like I'd known these people my whole life. Elin and I always hugged for ridiculously long, as did Sarah and I - even when we always knew we'd see each other in a matter of hours. I reached for Pauli, then, as Harry stood back from Mitch to let me hug him, as well. I heard Elin say something to Harry, I supposed about him and I, as it made him laugh and lock his eyes on me, before he squeezed Elin's shoulder. Every gesture - every move between these people, I caught it; each of them meant so, incredibly much to me, and to each other. I loved this feeling.
Harry and I waited for them all to bundle into the car, and I raised an eyebrow as Pauli stood back to let everybody get in the car, first. I quickly squeezed Harry's arm as I noticed Grace being the final person to get in the car, just before Pauli, when I noticed how Pauli laid a respectful hand on the small of her back as she climbed in, before he followed and got in after her.
"No way," Harry said to me, having noticed the gesture after I'd squeezed his arm to grab his attention. I glanced at him, watching how he was grinning ear-to-ear at what we'd just seen. It was a tiny gesture, but it didn't mean it wasn't fun to be able to dramatise it - after all, for weeks, we'd had every move we'd made in the early stages of our relationship overanalysed and overemphasised by the entirety of our group; it was fun to get to reverse the roles, for once.
"Now I see why Elin and Pauli used to do this to us, all the time," I said, laughing as their car started to pull away, and both of mine and Harry's eyes were fixed on the back window, despite it being tinted to block everyone from our vision. "It's actually very fun."
"Don't turn into an investigator like them, now," Harry replied with a small laugh of his own, pressing a kiss to my temple before he gently patted my bum, as if to remind me we had our own car waiting. His security, standing a couple of feet away, looked tired and unamused as we delayed our departure, before we finally relented and climbed into the back of our own car.
I snuck one final look at the beautiful little restaurant as the car pulled away, taking Harry and I away from what I was sure, now, would be consolidated in my mind as one of my favourite places I'd ever been. My eyes drew over the wooden sign as we left, as if trying to make sure I never forgot a single detail - I wanted the image burned into my mind. I wanted this night to play in my mind, again and again - but, for once, it felt like I wouldn't have to cling onto it. This wasn't rare anymore; these warm feelings didn't feel infrequent. I didn't have to desperately hold onto this good feeling in fear I'd never get it again. As long as I was with him; I had it.
I felt Harry's hand gently reach to tuck my hair behind my ear, breaking me from my thoughts. I looked at him, now, instead of out of the window, feeling how my heart swelled as soon as I laid my eyes on him. I wondered if that would ever fade. If you were with somebody for a long time; did it finally start to waver? Would there ever be a point that I didn't shiver at every touch from his fingers, or every twitch of his lips? It didn't feel plausible. It felt like as long as I breathed, he'd have this effect on me. He'd had it from the moment I met him; the moment everything had changed, it felt like I was destined to love him.
How could it have been anything else? I'd never felt such a thing just from looking at somebody. I'd known it in the pit of my stomach, even when I'd avoided it - every touch, every look, every move had made it more and more impossible to ignore.
One of the things I'd been so hesitant to learn, was that I didn't just get to choose it. My whole life, I'd tried to decide how I felt about things, for the sake of making things easier. I ignored and suppressed every real, organic emotion - I'd decided I wasn't hurt or ruled by the things that had happened to me; decided that I didn't live my life by it, simply because that was how I'd determined it to be - but that didn't make it true. It was quite the opposite It didn't mean I'd let anything go, at all - I was completely and utterly at the mercy of everything that had happened to me, and living my life by it. Largely, I still was; but Harry had been the first person to ever walk into my life, and make it so my head couldn't convince myself of a false narrative. He was the first person to ever break the cycle, and it had tortured me so relentlessly; that I couldn't choose not to want him.
Though I'd never been able to truly suppress my real feelings, I'd been so convinced that I had, until him. It was him - him, walking into my life with his wretched smile and his knowing eyes, that had finally, finally pulled me out of it. There was no convincing or fabricating when it came to him - it wasn't possible. I didn't just get to opt out of feeling everything I did.
It had hit me like a ton of bricks, truly, from the moment I'd been with him. It was like my body had known before my head had - I was drawn to him; how willing I'd been to give myself to him from the moment we'd met, and how he'd been so irritatingly impossible to push away. It was kind of funny, now - whenever we'd recapped our hesitations, there was so much emotion and weight behind it; but then it was laughable. He, like I, had tried to ignore every feeling, and the weird magnetic pull between us. We'd both been in equal, foolish denial, and now, it felt unimaginable not to be together. The fact there'd even been a point on this tour where we didn't share a bed; or even share mornings, and evenings - lunches and dinners, and even sitting together on planes; in the back of the car. What were we even doing before?
It felt unfathomable to think there was a time where my days didn't consist of him. Lingering in his dressing room before a show; watching him crossed-legged in his sweatpants as he fulfilled what felt like his hundredth interview, on Zoom, that day - waiting for him to finish just so I could kiss him, again. It felt unfair that we'd denied it for so long; like wasted time.
I couldn't waste any more time.
The car pulled up outside the back entrance of the apartment building again - I didn't know if the paparazzi were still camped out front, but at that moment, I couldn't even bring myself to care. I was fixed on him; completely and entirely.
I didn't know I could feel this happy. I didn't know that anybody could - especially not me. Even with the sweetest gestures Harry made, every single day - this one felt like the greatest, yet. To have him accept every part of me, and then celebrate it - I still couldn't quite believe it. I couldn't believe everything he'd done for me - day to day, whether the gestures were grand, or subtle; whether it was pushing me for bigger opportunities, or taking me on a trip like this; flying all of my friends here to be here on my birthday, or if it was simply ensuring I had every little thing I could even think about wanting, whether it was a cup of coffee or a bouquet of flowers in my arms. He made me feel so important, in every sense of the world - if I could've done even half of that for him, then it would've been no small feat. I couldn't even comprehend the level of gratitude and adoration I had for him - everything he'd done, and continued to do.
"Did you drink more than I thought you did?" Harry teased, suddenly, as we walked up the stairs to the apartment. He dropped my hand, only to reach to place both of his hands on my head, playfully cradling either side of it. He was making reference to how I'd grown so lost in thought, but I knew he didn't mind.
"If I'm drunk, it's from that one sip I took of yours," I teased back, as he gently caressed the back of my head, before he guided me back towards him with his hand. My arm wound around his torso as he pulled me in, a small smile twitching onto his lips at my comment.
It wasn't my birthday anymore. I wasn't sure what time it was, but there was no chance that it wasn't after midnight. It was dark as we walked towards the apartment, Harry's arms pulling me against his body so that we were forced to walk messily in sync.
As the door clicked shut, Harry's hands landed on my shoulders from behind, both of us seeming to sigh contently in unison with one another. I grinned a little, at that - that synched, mutual relief of being in each other's company, even when we had been for days now.
It felt like I could've exploded - what, was I supposed to just turn around and say it? Maybe I wasn't ready after all - or, maybe I needed to stop trying to figure out if I was ready or not, and just let things happen. Maybe everything didn't have to be such a task all the time.
Harry placed an affectionate hand on my hair, kissing my temple without another word as he walked past me, and I caught him sliding through the remainder of the buttons on his shirt, casually loosening them with his fingers. He walked casually through the hall, and glanced back over his shoulder as if confused to see that I wasn't following him to the bedroom.
"I'm gonna get some water. Do you want some?" I asked him, moving a little further into the hallway. He shook his head.
"I can get it, if you want-"
My heart instantly thumped at his instinctual urge to get it for me, and I smiled fondly, shaking my head.
"I'll be one minute," I told him, sending him one final glance before I walked into the kitchen, flicking the light on.
I looked over the counter; the sides, and the table, counting three of his beautifully obnoxious bouquets, laughing softly. I hadn't really noticed how big the kitchen was when I was the only one inhabiting it; it seemed so full of our laughter and our affection all the time. It was so quiet with only me standing in the centre of it; looking over the polished counters - no dirty plates, or used glasses, like I was used to in my flat at home. I had a very tidy boyfriend, which I supposed was another blessing that I didn't count enough.
I grabbed a glass out of the cupboard, and filled it with water, glancing out of the window mindlessly as I did. It was pitch black outside, now, but I could faintly make out the shadows of the little patio area that I'd come to adore so much.
The idea of leaving here felt horrible. I knew I needed to stop dwelling on it, but I couldn't help it - I felt so attached to this place, already. So much had happened here in just a few days; it felt like I'd made more memories in this city than I had anywhere else - good ones, perfect ones. I was learning to grapple with the fact that I didn't have to so desperately cling onto good moments, because they weren't so much of a rarity anymore. Even Harry had said we'd come back - with him, those moments were never-ending - and it didn't mean taking things for granted, but it definitely meant knowing it was okay to leave Italy without making myself ridiculously upset about it.
I brought my glass of water back into the bedroom, setting it down beside the bed as I heard the running of water from the en-suite. Just as I turned around, Harry surfaced, now without a shirt and in a pair of sweatpants, his toothbrush wedged into his mouth.
He asked me a question, but with his mouthful of toothpaste, I didn't catch a word of it. I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head, only for him to raise his hand in a thumbs-up, tilting his head back at me and raising his eyebrows. I nodded, then, laughing softly, as he held his thumb up a little higher, as if accepting my answer that I was okay. I felt my heart flutter as he walked back into the bathroom. If I hadn't already been in love with him, that adorable little gesture might've done it.
He was back within a minute, as I was pulling my heels off my feet with a dramatic groan. His eyes lit up playfully as he saw me dump them to the ground, and he sat down on the edge of the bed beside me.
"Oh, my poor baby... life's so hard, I know... I know..." he cooed teasingly, bringing his hand to my hair and rocking me against his bare chest, making me laugh. I hadn't even realised my feet were hurting until we'd made it inside and I'd finally sat down.
"Get off!" I groaned playfully, though that was the absolute last thing I wanted. He littered kisses over my hair as I attempted to writhe out of his grip, before he finally relented, settling for draping an arm over my knees. I glanced down at his scattered tattoo sleeve, drawing my nail mindlessly over a rose he had inked there. I closed my eyes for a second, letting my temple press to his bicep as I leaned on him.
His lips pressed to my hair, but I wasn't even sure if he was kissing me. He just lingered there, gentle as ever, as we grew quiet. I tilted my head up to look at him.
"All I can smell is toothpaste," I murmured for no real reason, glancing at his lips. He mockingly raised his eyebrows, playfully dropping his jaw.
"No way. Do you wanna taste it?"
Before I could answer, I caught his playful expression as he tilted his chin up to offer me a kiss. I leaned in to accept it straight away, our mouths meeting briefly and allowing me to instantly taste the mint on his lips.
"More? Oh... you want more," he teased, his tone blunt and playfully frank as he nodded his head as if he understood some kind of request I'd made, though I hadn't said anything else. I broke into laughter as he started to kiss me again, and again.
"It's okay, you want more - I can give you more, it's fine-" he continued to tease between kisses as I laughed uncontrollably, my hands still rising to hold his face as he leaned his weight onto me to gently nudge me back on the bed until I was laying down. He kissed all over my face, then, until I couldn't keep still, his hands finding my sides to playfully squeeze them before he finally leaned back, letting me catch my breath as he scanned his eyes over my face.
I exhaled, leaning back against the pillow as he hovered over me. I looked up at him, shaking my head a little as I tried to somehow stifle the undoubtedly enamoured expression on my face - but I didn't know why. Hiding was just a habit, even if I didn't need to do it anymore. I took the sight of his face in - really, really took it in, as if I didn't sneak endless minutes doing that every morning and every night, and I felt my heart swell. This was really it.
I wasn't sure when our positions shifted; when I'd ended up seated on top of him, rather than the other way around, but I liked it. He sat with his back pressed to the headboard, and my thighs on either side of him, feeling his hands coax up and down them. Every way that we sat together always felt like my favourite - but this one might actually have been it.
"Thank you for tonight," I murmured softly, not wanting to speak too loud in the beautiful quiet of our room. His hand ran up and down my outer thigh in a casual gesture, his eyes softening as I spoke. I'd said it already, but it didn't feel like it was enough.
I continued, "And for today... this week... this... everything," I kept gently correcting myself, watching a smile tug on his lips. He was so perfect that it hurt. I watched his eyes trail over my face as my hands drew gently over his shoulders, feeling his bare, warm skin beneath my palms.
"You don't have to thank me," he murmured back, one of his hands leaving my thigh to tuck my hair behind my ear. The other hand kept rubbing faint circles at the hem of my dress.
"But I want to," I returned, tilting my chin up a little. "I didn't realise I could feel this," I confessed, watching him appear to take in every word from my lips like it mattered. To him, it did.
"You deserve it," he cut in with a gentle reminder - one that it felt like he'd never stop giving me. He gently squeezed my thigh, and my own hand began to trace lightly over his jaw, a soft sigh leaving my lips.
As he sat there, I didn't know how to even verbalise what this was. I knew what it was. His eyes were soft, and he stayed quiet - he always knew just when to let my mind race. My thumb drew a faint circle beside his lips, my next exhale being a little shakier. Stop.
"Talk to me," he murmured, gently stroking a hand through my hair. The request was nothing like his desperate ones from before - this one wasn't laced with so much need; it was like he knew, either way, it wasn't anything catastrophic. It was a gentle prompt, if anything, that I could say anything and it wouldn't change a thing. He'd promised me that, already.
"You just make me so happy," I whispered, running my thumb over his cheek again, and watching how his eyes faintly crinkled with a gentle smile. I knew I was smiling, too, and I had no chance of stopping. This feeling was all-encompassing.
"Come here," he said softly, lifting his arms from my thighs to beckon me into them. I leaned in, feeling my entire body pressed against his as we embraced, one of his hands finding the back of my head, and the other on my back, gently caressing it. My face buried into his neck as we held one another, and my arms held tightly onto him.
The tension left my shoulders as I felt his fingers stroke through my hair, and I hummed quietly against his ear. Being with him like this felt so, unbelievably good - every time I got to just melt into his touch, and let everything else evaporate. He had a crazy, unfathomable power to just make everything else seem like background noise. In this moment, he was it - he was the only one, the only thing that mattered.
The side of my face nuzzled against his as he held me, rubbing his other hand up and down my back until I almost forgot where I was - I almost floated away, into some kind of world where the only thing in existence was his touches. I never wanted to be without this. I thought about the words that had almost fallen from my mouth earlier, and how prominently they were resting on my tongue, now.
For once, there was no pressure - there was no overbearing force, or some kind of question I was being demanded to give an answer to. This was me, and him - it was us, and what we wanted; what we felt. He loved me, and didn't want a thing in return. And I loved him the very same way.
My lips were against his ear, and I sensed his breath hitching at the sensation, before they could even form any words. My hand rested on the opposite side of his neck, feeling his warm skin against my fingers. I knew that part of his neck - I'd kissed it so many times; just as I knew this part of his ear, and each other part of his chest as it pressed against my own. I knew every inch of his beautiful skin, and I was in love with that, too. I was in love with the way I caught his breath hitching when I'd approached his ear; how his hand was rubbing slowly up and down my back in a soothing instinct. I was in love with how we both seemed to favour the way I was sitting on his lap, over us sitting in any other position. I was in love with how his hair got curlier around the edges, by my lips, surrounding his ear, and at the nape of his neck. I was in love with his silly little concentration face; when his tongue would poke out thoughtfully between his lips, and he would grumpily protest that it didn't. I was in love with how unnatural his frowns seemed to be - how it seemed like the natural state of his face was in that beautiful smile that completely illuminated it. I was desperately, hopelessly in love with the way he looked at me, and the way I finally knew what it meant - because I looked at him the very same way. I felt it. Completely, and unreservedly - I felt it all.
"I love you."
It was more of a whisper than I'd intended, but I felt his hand stop moving on my back, and that told me the volume hadn't really mattered. My lips were against his ear, and I didn't dare draw back. I let it linger in the air between us, my body still embracing his. The room fell silent, and I expected to be filled with some kind of dread - but I wasn't. Even in anticipation of his response, I felt like somebody had just removed a massive weight from my shoulders, and that I'd been able to drop them for the first time in my entire life. It was the truth.
"Hey..." he murmured, his voice quiet and gentle, but it sounded like he was deliberately trying to keep his tone even. I drew my face back from his neck, daring to look at him, and he took my chin gently between his fingers. His eyes were the warmest I'd ever seen them, and I could see a smile aching to tug on his beautiful lips that made me begin to wonder why I'd ever even been scared of this. "If you're gonna tell me that... then you have to love me enough to let me see you say it..."
A smile fought its way onto my lips as he held my face in his hands, looking at me with the most beautiful gaze I'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. His face was bright, and it was warm, and it was for me. It was like something even deeper had just been unveiled within me as I looked at him, unable to tear my eyes away. It was like a whole new lens, even more so than the one I thought I'd discovered earlier - saying that to him and watching it seep in. I knew that he'd known that I loved him, even when I couldn't say it - he'd known, and he'd promised it was enough. But this was different. Telling somebody that you loved them, and meaning it in a way that only they can comprehend - it was incredible, and it was freeing.
"I love you, Harry. So, so much..." I trailed off, looking into his eyes this time, and it felt like the world had just been placed into my hands. I said it again, then, watching his eyes fill with something that seemed to resemble awe.
I'd never told anybody those words - but I couldn't explain how perfect and right it was, that the very first time, was to him. He'd shown me. I didn't need a loving past, or a previous experience of love, in order to love him now. I'd spent years wondering if it was all made up - if it was some kind of stupid marketing ploy, or a fictional allure - I was certain nobody could ever truly adore every part of somebody else; but when I looked at him, I knew that I could, because I did. Every single part - no matter what - all it did, was contribute to the person I was in love with. Every habit, every little quirk - it all added up to the person I wanted everything with.
"I love you, Iz," he said, after a moment. It was a sentence he'd been saying for a short while, but it definitely hadn't lost its impact. I watched his face, completely lost in this feeling, feeling my heart race in the way that only he could prompt it to. Telling somebody you loved them, and them knowing how you meant it was incredible - yes - but hearing them return the very same sentiment in response, was a new level.
I leaned forward to kiss him, feeling how he instantly tilted his head to meet my lips, like it was pure instinct. His hands pulled me closer by my face, but it didn't feel like anything would be close enough, at this point. No amount of words, no level of touch - nothing could begin to quantify this.
"God, I love you. I'm so in love with you," he murmured against my lips, stroking his hand over my cheek as I felt the most beautiful shiver run along the length of my spine. I almost shook my head in disbelief. This feeling. It was ours.
I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or just kiss him again and again. I loved him so, unbelievably much. I was in love like I never had been before, and he'd waited so patiently until I felt like I was ready. He would've kept waiting, and I knew it - I knew how undeniably lucky I was, and I never, ever wanted to take it for granted.
"I'm in love with you," I returned, feeling a smile break out onto my lips as he appeared to mirror it. His eyes were so soft and inviting, and I wondered if, for him, it felt like it did for me - if hearing me say that lit him on fire the way him saying it did for me. It felt so good to say it aloud - to say the words and mean every little implication. To say them, and to own them.
His hand ran over my jaw, gently pinching my chin between his forefinger and thumb. His face was like I'd ever seen it, so full of expression and emotion that I could've sat and analysed each intricate shift of his features for hours, and hours. He leaned forward, almost connecting our lips again, but pausing, flickering his eyes to my own. He hummed, a tantalisingly beautiful, teasing glint in his eye.
"Mm... I think I need to hear you say it again."