Page 119 of The Sound Between Us

“I watched you perform,” he says quietly. “In that little club in LA. You looked... free.”

I think about that night, how terrifying and right it felt to sing my own words. “I was scared out of my mind.”

“Couldn’t tell.” His thumb brushes across my knuckles. “You looked you belonged up there.”

I study his face, noting the lines of exhaustion that makeup used to hide, the way his eyes have lost some of the polished gleam that made him look perfect on magazine covers.

“Did you really walk out of the tour?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I can feel his chest rise and fall beneath my cheek. “Yeah. Couldn’t get through another show pretending to feel things I don’t feel for people who deserve better.”

“How many dates did you have left?”

“Ten more dates.”

The number sits between us. Ten dates probably represents millions of pounds, thousands of disappointed fans, contracts that carry penalties I can’t even imagine. He threw all of that away to stand on my doorstep in the rain.

I stare at the ceiling, processing the magnitude of what he’s sacrificed, and feel something heavy settle in my chest.

“You can’t drop them, Harry. They’re your brothers.”

His arms tighten around me, and I can feel the tension that runs through his body. “I’m not risking this.”

“You aren’t risking anything. I’ll come with you.”

His fingers still against my skin, and for a moment he just stares at me as if I’ve spoken in a language he doesn’t understand.

“Seren... I don’t expect that of you. I know what the business means to you, how hard you’ve worked to do things on your own terms.”

The thing is, the number sits heavy in my chest. Ten dates. About Jamie and Dex, who’ve been his brothers for fourteen years. About the fans who’ve bought tickets and made signs and probably spent money they couldn’t really afford for the chance to see Elementary one last time.

But mostly I’ve been thinking about Uncle Vinny, and how even when Dad was at his most impossible, even when the industry nearly destroyed both of them, they never stopped being family.

“One day you might have a daughter who calls Jamie ‘Uncle Jamie,’ just the way Vinny and me. And I don’t want you to risk losing that for me.”

His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying maybe you aren’t the only one who needs to change.” The words come out steadier than I feel. “I’ve been hiding my whole life, Harry. From the industry, from fame, from anything that might hurt me or use me or turn me into something I’m not. But maybe... maybe running away isn’t the same as staying safe.”

He’s watching me with an intensity that makes my chest tight. “You hate everything about this world.”

“I hate what it did to my family. But you’re not my family’s mistakes. And maybe it’s time I stopped letting their failures dictate my choices.”

The silence stretches between us, heavy with possibility and terror in equal measure. Then Harrison kisses me, slow and thorough and full of something that feels dangerously close to gratitude.

“Are you sure? Ten dates across Asia, cameras everywhere, everyone wanting to know who you are and why you’re there. It won’t be easy.”

“I’ve never done easy. Besides, someone needs to make sure you don’t have any more cigarette-related breakdowns on stage.”

He laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. “Fair point.”

When we kiss this time, his mouth is soft against mine, unhurried. His hands trace the curve of my waist, my hip, fingertips skimming across my skin until I shiver. He kisses my collarbone, the hollow of my throat, working his way down my body. When he settles between my legs, his eyes find mine, and something in his gaze makes my breath catch.

His hands slide down my back, pulling me closer as I rock against him. I bite down on his shoulder to muffle the sound I make when he hits exactly the right spot, and his answering groan vibrates through his chest into mine. Our rhythm builds slowly, deliberately, my fingers digging into his biceps as he moves beneath me.

When we’re both spent and lying in the tangle of my white sheets, Harrison traces patterns across my collarbone with the tip of his finger.

“Is it too soon for ‘I love you’?”

His voice cracks slightly on the words, and my chest goes tight. I trace the line of his collarbone with my finger, buying time. Tokyo. Stages. Hotel rooms. Cameras. All the ways this could shatter into pieces.

But mostly I think about how it feels to be lying here with him, skin against skin, planning a future that terrifies and thrills me in equal measure.

“Ask me again in Tokyo,” I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then his arms tighten around me. “Tokyo it is.”

I close my eyes and let myself imagine it, stepping off a plane in a country I’ve never seen, watching him perform songs that actually mean something, being brave enough to choose love over safety.

It should terrify me. Three months ago, it would have sent me running back to my vinyl shop and my safe, small life.

But lying here in Harrison’s arms, planning to follow him across the world, I realise that sometimes the scariest thing you can do is exactly the thing you need to do.

Sometimes brave looks such as saying yes when every instinct tells you to run. Sometimes it looks such as choosing love, even when you don’t know how the story ends.

And sometimes it looks such as a girl from Camden deciding to join a world tour with ten dates left, just to see what happens when you stop hiding from your own life.

“Tokyo,” I whisper against his skin, and it sounds such as a promise.