"Oh my god, Ryan."

Ryan's almost positive there's no better sound than Harry groaning her name. It's somehow scratchy yet completely audible, and Ryan can hear the little breathy sounds in between each syllable. It's a juxtaposition of breathlessness and clear-cut clarity, and when her name falls off his lips like a secret, she feels special that it's only for her ears to hear.

The tip of her nose tickles the thin patch of hair at the bottom of his naval, and when she feels him hit the back of her throat and tears start to spring from her eyes, he lets out another guttural "Christ, Ryan," and she knows he's very close to falling apart.

They've spent the past two months getting acquainted with each other's bodies. After Harry finally kissed Ryan in her living room, he carried her over to the couch and they snogged like teenagers—all bitten lips and roaming tongues, knocking teeth and wandering hands. When Ryan started rutting against his thigh and the tightness in Harry's pants became unbearable, they separated and decided to take things slow.

But that was two months ago. Now, if things went any slower, they'd be stagnant.

Those first three weeks they kissed so much that Ryan's jaw ached and Harry's lips were permanently raw. He wanted to take things slow because he assumed Ryan would grow overwhelmed with each next step they took. But one night after Ryan came over for dinner and pretended to say goodnight to Jackson, she waited in the hallway until Harry was certain Jackson was down for the night, and when his front door ripped open and his hands grasped her arms, he dragged her onto his couch and kissed her like he did every other night before that.

But Ryan was growing restless, and while she thought it was admirable the way Harry wanted to be patient with her, she was practically losing her mind with the way his hands stayed planted on her ass and never went anywhere else, the way his lips kissed every inch of her skin above the neckline of her shirt, the way she would be begging for more and Harry wouldn't oblige.

Even though Ryan could barely look at Harry those first two months they were tiptoeing around each other, she knew that right now—with his mouth licking at the underside of her jaw and his hands squeezing the thick fleshy parts of her ass—she was going to fucking lose it if he didn't do anything more.

Because they've finally figured it out. The unanswered questions that were plaguing them in the beginning have slowly been answered with every moment she spends with him. The lingering gazes and unknown feelings finally meant something to both of them. But now—now that she's had a taste and gotten a glimpse of what Harry could do to her, she's practically gone crazy thinking about it all.

Ryan's never been more sure of one thing in her entire life. And it's that if she and Harry go any slower, she'll burst.

So in a blind moment of bravery, Ryan reached down between the pair of them and palmed the growing bulge in his trousers. His mouth ripped from her skin and his head fell back against the armrest of his leather couch, a deep moan working its way through his throat. And when it finally exploded from his parted cherry lips, Ryan could feel herself freefalling, losing sight of everything in front of her and crashing aimlessly below.

"Shit, Ryan." His voice was strained and Ryan loved every second of it, and before she could have a conscious thought of what she was actually doing, her hands undid the black button with ease and her tiny fingers worked their way through his zipper, and suddenly she was reaching into his briefs and feeling him completely.

That was the first time she ever heard Harry groan like that, and Ryan's almost positive she's been addicted to the sound ever since.

That first night on Harry's brown leather couch started a series of sneaking in and out of each other's flats during all hours of the day just to get a piece of the other. Harry would slip out of his own when Jackson was down for his afternoon kip, opening Ryan's front door and tasting her until he heard his mobile buzz with the sounds of Jackson's stirrings. He'd sneak out just as quickly as he came, leaving her with a mouth-tingling kiss and the overwhelming urge of wanting more more more.

Ryan would come over for dinner almost every other night, keeping the hidden touches and stolen kisses between the two of them without Jackson truly understanding what was happening. And when it was time for Jackson to go to bed, she'd say her goodbyes and wait for Harry in the hallway until his grabby hands were on her own, dragging her back inside. They'd fool around in Harry's bedroom quietly, swallowing each other's giggles and grinning whenever stars exploded behind their eyelids.

Harry knew that if he dragged his teeth around Ryan's earlobe she'd practically become a writhing mess below him. Ryan knew that if she wrapped a dainty hand around the column of Harry's neck and licked at the piece of skin where his collarbone met his shoulder, his eyes would roll in the back of his head. Harry knew that Ryan was shy whenever he'd start kissing at the skin just underneath her belly button, simultaneously making sure that his green eyes never left her brown ones—because direct eye contact while he was lapping at the most sensitive parts of her body made her want to look at the ceiling or close her eyes tightly. But when they would switch positions and Ryan was the one in between Harry's legs, she knew that sneaking a glance up at him while her mouth was around him was the exact thing that would bring him over the edge.

And she loved every second of it. She loved being the person bringing somebody like Harry to his end, watching the way his cheeks flushed a deep red color and his mouth opened widely, the way his chest would constrict and his hands would grip the closest thing to him—which most of the time was Ryan's hips that she happily allowed him to bruise—the way his eyes would shut at the actual last moment, making sure to remember the way everything looked around him before his vision blurred with desire and his body vibrated, completely spent. And when it was all over and he would breathe deeply, a quiet hum resonated through his body that made Ryan's heart flutter and her body wrap around his own like two magnets with opposite polarities.

Harry loved how confident Ryan grew around him in these moments. While her cheeks still tinged pink whenever he would compliment her as she removed a layer of clothing, she knew exactly what she wanted and felt comfortable enough to tell him. She would tell him that she liked when he gripped her hair, she would tell him that she liked when he ran his tongue down the front of her body, she would tell him that when he gripped her too hard at times that she didn't really mind it—in fact, she enjoyed it, she wanted it. And with each time they explored a new part of one another, she would grow much more at ease, until she was the one encouraging him to try new things.

And he was fucking addicted.

Ryan tried not to make a habit out of staying over, because explaining to Jackson what was going on while she was trying to sneak out of Harry's bedroom wearing one of his obnoxious graphic tees was completely mind-boggling to her. She didn't want to make Jackson feel uncomfortable—and while Harry and Ryan both knew that they had to eventually tell Jackson about their relationship, sneaking around and keeping things just between the two of them has made everything that much easier. Because everything felt new and different, and bursting that bubble just as they were exploring one another seemed a bit disheartening.

Which is why when Ryan feels Harry's hands gripping the base of her neck while he tries his hardest to subdue another groan, she's immediately brought back to the present. The present— which consists of her sucking Harry off under the covers of his charcoal-colored duvet in the early hours of the morning, wearing nothing except one of his bright jumpers with vibrant lettering and images of kittens littering the front.

And just before he grips her hair harder and is practically careening towards his end, she's surprised when she can hear the excited pitter-patter of bare feet slapping against hardwood over Harry's strangled moans.

Before she can even scold herself for accidentally spending another night in Harry's sheets, his gold bedroom doorknob begins to wiggle. All at once, Ryan tears her mouth away from Harry's twitching length, muttering a frantic "shit!" from her position underneath the duvet cover. The door springs open before she can even contemplate hiding inside the attached en-suite, and suddenly Ryan finds herself in a position that's possibly more humiliating than getting rug burn in front of her attractive neighbor almost four months ago—face squished against Harry's bare stomach, chest flat against his thighs, and legs stretched out around his own, completely buried underneath the duvet.

Harry sits up gently, making sure Ryan's body is flat against his own and hidden underneath the darkness of his room. "Hey—hi! Bubs, uh, what's up?" His voice comes out extremely high pitched, and Ryan can't tell if it's from the fact that they were nearly caught in a compromising position by his four-year-old son, or from the fact that he was seconds away from an orgasm that never came.

"Daddy! It's my birthday! Why are you still in bed? We have to celebrate me!"

Scratch that. Five-year-old son.

Without thinking, Ryan pinches the extra skin around Harry's waist, causing him to jolt upwards in shock. Her brain instantly starts whirring, working in overdrive to try and remember if Harry had mentioned his son's fifth birthday to her at all during these past few weeks. And when she can't think of anything, Ryan feels herself frowning against the rigid muscles of Harry's abdominals, immediately feeling bad about overlooking this important occasion.

It seems that Harry feels the same, because she can hear him replying, "Of course I didn't forget your birthday! How about you turn the telly on and wait for me, yeah? I'll cook you my famous eggy bread and we'll kick off your celebration properly."

Ryan hears Jackson squeal excitedly and she almost wishes she wasn't buried underneath Harry's duvet so that she could see his gleaming grin. And just before she can hear the door shut, Jackson asks, "Can we still invite Ryan and Luna to my party?"

Ryan bites her lower lip to try and hide the smile stretching across her face. She wishes that Jackson already knew about their relationship, because if he did, she'd rip the duvet off of the bed and scoop him up in the biggest hug she could muster, tickling his sides until his arms were wrapped around her neck and she could carry him into the kitchen, waiting patiently for Harry to cook them both his famous eggy bread.

But unfortunately, she's supposed to be hidden, and that looming thought turns her concealed smile into a heavy frown. Somehow Harry can sense it, and before their cover gets blown, he tells Jackson, "Of course they can come. Why don't you grab the invitation we started yesterday and finish decorating it. We can drop it off after brekkie, sound good, Bubs?"

Jackson must have nodded appreciatively, because suddenly Harry's bedroom door clicks shut and the charcoal-colored duvet is thrown to the bottom of his mattress. Ryan looks up at him with wide eyes, her lower lip bitten and her eyes tinged with sadness.

"We're dickheads, huh?" Ryan offers, clambering off the bed and trying to locate her joggers on his carpeted flooring.

Harry watches her, tucking his erection uncomfortably into his tight briefs and selfishly wishing his son had better timing.

"Don't say that. Just got carried away, is all," Harry offers lamely, running an exasperated hand through his messy hair when he notices Ryan practically fully dressed in front of him.

"We need to tell him, Harry. He's got to know something, considering I've been going to the park with you guys and joining you for dinner almost every other evening." Ryan keeps her voice down as she exchanges Harry's obnoxious jumper for her cardigan and vest combination she showed up here in the night before.

Harry nods, offering, "We'll tell him. Tonight, I promise. Can you just—just come here, please?" He's growing dizzy watching her run around his bedroom grabbing her discarded items, and all he wants is to have her close to him so that they can potentially finish what they started moments ago.

Ryan can tell from the look in his eyes that he's desperate for her touch. And when she rejoins him on the bed, straddling his thin waist and wrapping her arms around his neck in a quick cuddle, her chest completely flat against his own, she wishes now more than ever that they could wake up every morning just like this.

She lifts her head from the crook of his neck and plants a quick kiss to his temple, before untangling herself from his body and slipping her trainers on her feet. "You've got a birthday boy to entertain," Ryan mutters with a wink.

Harry rolls his eyes from his position on the bed, moaning in frustration when the sudden shift of his body makes his length twitch unforgivably. "How am I supposed to cook with a full stiffy? I'm in pain here, babe."

Ryan just snickers before throwing Harry the shorts and hoodie he wore last night. "Have a quick wank in the shower, you'll be sorted in no time."

"You're cruel," Harry complains, slipping the clothes on and adjusting his shorts so that his erection wasn't so painfully obvious.

"I'll see you later, okay? We'll finish this properly," Ryan offers, snaking her arms around his waist when she notices the smirk threaten to break across his face. His strong arms wrap around her middle, and Harry brings his hand up to wrap his long pointer finger around a stray piece of Ryan's hair that fell in front of her line of vision.

"Properly, yeah?" He teases, bringing her closer so that the tips of their noses are brushing against one another.

Ryan nods with a pretty smirk covering her lips. "Maybe daddy will get a present, too." Harry drops his forehead against hers, puffing out a frustrated breath that fans against her cheeks.

"You're killing me, baby," he whispers against her mouth, before pressing his lips against hers with a forceful kiss. Ryan's arms tighten around his body, and when she feels his tongue prod against her lower lip, she backs away, knowing they need to reign it in before they get too lost in one another.

"Later, I promise," Ryan says, hinting at the one barrier that they haven't crossed yet, praying that Harry understands what she's implying.

And when his eyes light up wickedly and he gives her one last toe-curling kiss, she's almost certain that he knows exactly what she's talking about.

He opens his bedroom door and heads out into the hallway first, making sure Jackson isn't lingering in the bathroom or kitchen as they pass. When they encroach upon his position in the living room—telly blasting Paw Patrol as he lays on the rug with his tummy on the shag carpeting, flannel-clad feet bent behind him as his chin rests against his opened palms comfortably—Ryan gives Harry's waist one last squeeze before she slips out of the entranceway and into the hallway undetected.

When Ryan enters her own flat and greets Luna with a sleepy smile, she immediately heads to her bathroom and turns the shower on. As she's undressing, Ryan peeks at her reflection in the mirror and almost doesn't recognize the woman looking back at her.

This version has messy hair tangled at the back of her neck from greedy hands knotting themselves through the tendrils. This version has flushed cheeks—but not in the way she's grown accustomed to. No, this version's cheeks are flushed because she's excited, she's thrilled, she's exerted her sexual prowess on a deserving man and she's in awe of the way she can make him practically fall to his knees in front of her, begging for more more more.

This version has love bites littering the swells of her breast. And if she squints hard enough, she can make out the dents carved by fingertips across her hips and along her sides, permanent reminders of the way someone else could want her. Could need her.

And when she looks at this version's face and takes in her swollen lips from overuse, the bags under her eyes from choosing to stay awake and fool around with her boyfriend instead of choosing to sleep, the smile that seems to constantly grace her lips whenever she leaves Harry's presence—Ryan finds that she doesn't want to look away.

She wants to stare at it. She wants to remember it. She wants it to consume her.

Comfortableness is a look Ryan never thought would suit her, and with each day she lets her walls fall down, she falls more in love with the person she's becoming. Someone who is confident, someone who no longer lets her social anxiety rule her life, someone who is finally happy with where she is at.

Because falling in love and feeling free somehow coincide with one another. And as Ryan lets the hot water seep into her skin, she knows now that this is where she's meant to be.

***

"Fiona, for the hundredth time, I'm not describing Harry's dick to you over the phone," Ryan harrumphs through her mobile, reaching for the emerald green wrapping paper and unrolling a significant portion to begin wrapping Jackson's birthday present.

"That's not fair, Ry! I've gone into exquisite detail about Roger's!" Fiona exclaims back, pouting dramatically from her position leaned up on the coffee table of Ryan's mobile.

Ryan rolls her eyes before reaching for the scissors. "Once again, that information was unsolicited."

"Ugh!" Ryan giggles from her position on the floor of her living room, folding up the edges and covering her gift with the wrapping paper. "I can't wait until this lockdown is over so I can come by and slap you upside the head."

"Since when have you become so violent?" Ryan asks, securing the wrapping paper with scotch tape.

"Since my best mate won't tell me about her apparent dazzling sex life!"

Ryan puts the wrapped gift to the side and rests both elbows on the coffee table with her back to the juniper couch. Her arms cross at the middle so she can rest her chin on her wrists, giving Fiona her full attention.

"Well, we haven't really—um, you know," Ryan begins, her voice nearly a whisper as her cheeks flame in embarrassment.

"Haven't really what, Ry?" Fiona presses, always the over-eager one.

Ryan gulps. "Done that."

Fiona pauses for a moment, observing Ryan through the FaceTime call as she patiently tries to read her friend's emotions. "You haven't shagged him yet?" It's not asked in an accusatory tone, or even a shocked one at that—just complete and utter curiosity.

Ryan knows Fiona's testing the waters to see how she feels about it all, and she's a bit grateful to her friend for not being so glaringly obvious. "Uh, yeah. Haven't really gotten there yet."

"Well, do you want to?" Fiona asks.

Ryan looks at her with a dumbfounded expression. "Of course I do, Fee. He's my bloody boyfriend!"

"So what's the problem here, Ry?" Her prodding is nothing but gentle and calculated.

"There's no problem. It's just—" Ryan takes a deep breath and sits up straight. "It's just that I don't want to muck this up, Fiona. He's great and he's kind and he's so patient with me, it's incredible. I've never had that before. And I love that he's taking his time—that we're taking our time. But I just want to be at that next step with him. I want to be able to spend the night without having to sneak out the next morning. I want to feel so comfortable around him that having sex is just easy, and natural, and just—I don't know if I'm making sense."

Fiona blinks a few times with a gentle smile on her face, and suddenly Ryan is nervous about her response.

"I'm proud of you, Ryan." It's simple, somehow profound in a way, and Ryan just cocks her head to the side in confusion. "Stop looking at me like that, you twit!"

A smile breaks out across Ryan's face, a laugh ripping through her throat. "You're just so happy, Ry, and I think a lot of that has come from Harry. Because not only did you find someone who wants to be with you, but you found someone who wants you to be yourself." Fiona pauses, leaning a bit closer to her screen. "And I think you just need to tell Jackson the truth. It's not like he's going to be upset—from what I've heard, that boy is already in love with you."

Before Ryan can reply, she hears the sound of paper scraping against hardwood flooring from the entranceway of her flat, followed by a familiar high-pitched giggle echoing through the hallway.

She waits a moment before grabbing her mobile and heading towards her front door, bending at the knees when she scoops up the hand-drawn folded invitation on the floor.

"Should I be concerned?" Fiona asks surreptitiously.

Ryan smiles and shakes her head. "No, no. Luna and I have been formally invited to a very important five-year-old's birthday party next door."

She holds up the paper, smiling when she notices the capitalized scrawl at the top of the page, clearly done by somebody who can spell Quarantine Birthday Party without hiccups. Surrounding the handwriting are various images drawn by a five-year-old: a picture of Luna sleeping on Harry's brown leather couch, two Nerf blasters along the bottom, a pizza with orange squiggles that Ryan can only assume to be bell peppers in the top right corner, and finally Harry Potter along the top.

Ryan turns on her heel, heading into her kitchen and hanging the invitation up on her refrigerator with a magnet.

"I've got to go, Fee," Ryan says, slipping her Reebok's on and gathering Jackson's presents.

"Alright, alright. But seriously, everything's going to be alright, you hear me?" Fiona's yellow-painted pointer finger is extended to the camera, and Ryan smiles at the sight of her mate trying to be stern.

"Yes, Fee. I know. I'm going to be okay." Ryan responds, meaning every word.

Fiona nods and drops her finger, before adding, "And when you finally do shag, I would love a full synopsis on how Harry—"

Ryan hangs up before the blush could coat her cheeks.

Scooping Luna up in one arm and balancing her two gifts in the other, Ryan makes sure the lights are off before slipping out into the hallway and knocking thrice on 4G's heavy oak door.

Not even a minute goes by before the door is being ripped open, revealing a sight that still manages to bring a smile to Ryan's face.

It's Harry—dressed down in a casual pair of brown corduroy trousers paired with a yellow Swim Deep graphic tee that Ryan can't wait to wear to bed later on in the evening. His hair is held back by a clip, somewhat familiar to the way he wore it the first time they met in the ghastly hallway. And when her eyes finally land on him and he's grinning like a fool, Ryan can't help but mirror it, wondering if they'll always feel like this whenever they see each other.

"Hi," he says softly, reaching out and grabbing the two wrapped gifts from her hands.

"Hi," Ryan responds, hoisting Luna further up in her arm so that she's resting against her chest.

"You look pretty," Harry says, and when he reaches down to plant his lips on hers, he's halted in his movements when Jackson appears, practically bubbling with excitement.

"Ryan! Luna! Hi! I'm five!" His chocolate brown curls are in small cloisters framing his face, making his almond-shaped sage eyes twinkle in the light. He's wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt that Ryan can only assume was gifted to him by his father, and when he skirts by Harry's leg and stands right before Ryan, she can only grin right back.

"I heard! Happy birthday, champ. How do you feel?" Ryan asks, squatting down on her toes so that she's eye level with Jackson.

She watches as he contemplates his answer, rubbing a small hand against the fur on Luna's head. "I feel the same but bigger. I'm happy now that you guys are here, too. Do you think I could show Luna the toys daddy and Auntie Gemma got me? I'll be quick."

Ryan nods, handing Luna over to Jackson and watching as he holds her gently and carries her through the living room and down the hallway into his bedroom, chatting with her softly along the way.

When she stands up, Harry's mouth is on hers greedily, pulling kisses from her lips and wrapping his arms securely around her body as if he was scared she was going to disappear.

"Mmm, missed you," he mumbles once they've parted.

"You just saw me a few hours ago, crazy boy," Ryan responds, tickling her fingers through the curls resting against the nape of his neck.

With one last kiss, he drops his arms. "Miss you whenever you're not here."

Ryan smiles shyly, taking a half-step back before Jackson can catch them. "I want to tell him today, Harry. Think he'll be okay with it?"

Harry looks at Ryan with wide eyes, wondering how she could even fathom Jackson disliking that she was going to be a part of their lives. "Of course he'll be fine with it. In what world wouldn't he be?"

Ryan sighs. "I know."

With one last look, Harry wraps his arm around Ryan's shoulders and brings her body against his side, cuddling her closely until the tip of her nose was bushing against the veins pulsing in his neck. "I'm gonna miss having you all to myself, though."

Ryan giggles loudly, hugging Harry closer to her body. "You'll learn to be a good sharer."

He pouts dramatically before dragging her into the kitchen, her body still tucked into his side. When she enters the threshold she notices the island countertop is covered with flour—three evenly spherical doughs spread out over top, with ceramic bowls filled with toppings littering the outskirts.

Ryan leaves his side and looks at him with a quizzical look. "Pizzas on a non-Friday?"

Harry grins. "The birthday boy demanded it! How am I supposed to say no?"

Ryan just smiles before heading over to the sink and washing her hands. When she turns around after drying them on a tea towel, she notices a matching set of white feeding bowls on the tiled flooring to the right of the sink counter. And when she squints, she can make out LUNA etched in black writing along the front.

"Is this...?"

Before she can get a conscious sentence out, Harry rounds the island countertop and meets her in the middle of the kitchen. When he notices the look on her face is a mixture of complete shock and adoration, he shrugs shyly at her and rubs his sweaty palm against the back of his neck.

"Yeah. Figured if you were going to start spending the night here, Luna could come too so you wouldn't have to worry about feeding her."

It's amazing how a simple notion of purchasing cat feeding bowls for your girlfriend's kitten can somehow make Ryan's heart beat wildly against her chest. But it does—and she's left looking at Harry fondly, wondering if the wicked thumping of her heart and her shortness of breath and the deep look in her eyes can equate to something like love.

"You didn't have to," she offers lamely.

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. "I wanted to."

The sudden sound of a phone ringing from the living room interrupts Harry and Ryan, and when he cranes his neck and notices the noise coming from the iPad strewn across the brown leather couch, he steps back from Ryan and starts following the ringing.

"It's probably Rachel calling from New York. Wants to wish Jackson a happy birthday," Harry explains as he grabs the device and answers the call with a simple greeting.

Ryan backs away and heads down the hallway into Jackson's room, knocking on the opened door and crossing her arms against her chest when she notices him and Luna sprawled out on his rug as he attempts to build his brand new Lego set.

"Hey, champ. Your mum's on the phone," Ryan says from her position leaned against the doorframe.

"Really? All the way from New York?" Jackson asks, standing up quickly and grabbing Luna so she's securely nestled under his armpit.

Ryan nods. "Yeah, go say hi, okay? She wants to wish you a happy birthday."

"Okay, Ryan," Jackson obliges, hobbling past her figure and heading into the living room to grab the iPad from Harry. Making sure not to eavesdrop, Ryan returns back to the kitchen where Harry is spreading red sauce on all three pizza doughs.

She watches him, taking in the way his arms strain against the thin material of his shirt deliciously. When he bites his lower lip as he makes a spiral with the tomato sauce, making sure each pizza dough has the same amount, ensuring he left space for the crust to lift at the edges, Ryan tries her hardest to keep her giggles at bay. She finds it incredibly adorable that Harry is such a perfectionist, even without an audience to watch him.

When he lifts his head up after feeling her hot gaze on him, he smiles at her bashfully before cocking his head to the side, gesticulating that he wants her near him. "C'mere and pick your toppings," he says slowly, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head when she's settled against his side.

They work together in comfortable silence, working around each other in grabbing handfuls of cheese, chopped up pieces of vegetables, scattered slices of pepperoni. When Ryan grabs the bowl of pepperoni slices from Harry's hand, he chuckles to himself before opening his mouth wide, waiting for her to feed him. She giggles at his immaturity, but eventually obliges, popping a slice into his mouth and letting the tips of her fingers graze his lips until he's left shivering in his place.

Once their pizzas are finished, Harry starts spreading cheese on Jackson's, before asking Ryan offhandedly, "Do you mind asking him what else he wants on his pizza? I want to pop these into the oven."

Ryan nods, trying her hardest not to be difficult. But when she cleans off her hands and pops her head into the living room, she's suddenly flushed with nerves. She feels bad interrupting Jackson's conversation with his mum, especially on his birthday when she's practically an entire world away.

When there's an appropriate lull in the conversation, Ryan clears her throat and calls out, "Hey, champ? Daddy wants to know what toppings you want for your pizza."

She watches Jackson's neck snap in her direction, an excited smile plastering his face. "Ok! Tell him I'll pick them myself! Here, Ryan," and with that he jumps off the couch, thrusting the iPad into Ryan's hands without ending the call or saying goodbye to Rachel on the other end.

"Jackson, wait! Say goodbye to your mum!" After waiting a few seconds and hearing nothing but silence, Ryan sighs to herself before looking down at Rachel's patient gaze on the screen. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for him to run off like that."

When Ryan looks at the screen, she's a bit astonished when she sees Rachel's mouth begin to form a laugh. It's the same expression as the photograph of her in Jackson's room—full lips parted, mouth hanging open slightly, tongue resting against her bottom layer of teeth. She looks pretty with her straight hair clipped against her shoulders, and when Ryan takes in her bare face and fluffy white robe, she suddenly doesn't feel as nervous around Rachel as she was in the past.

Because for once, she seems like a normal girl. And when her smile doesn't break and she's looking at Ryan without dark eyes filled with anger, Ryan's not quite sure what to make out of it all.

"It's okay, pizza is probably infinitely more interesting than speaking to his mum at the moment," Rachel jokes, her laughter floating through the speakers in a way that makes Ryan crack a grin.

"I wouldn't say that," Ryan offers, trying to figure out how to end this conversation without making their already awkward relationship any worse.

"That's nice of you to say," Rachel responds quietly, tucking a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm glad you're there, by the way. You mean more to them than you could ever imagine."

It's quiet for a moment as Ryan takes in Rachel's words. Her simple comment of approval somehow makes the nervous pit in Ryan's stomach unravel, and suddenly she starts seeing Rachel in a different light. Maybe in the past, she was the villain in Harry's story, but that doesn't mean it always has to be that way. Because Ryan finally sees Rachel for who she is—a mum who simply is trying to do her best, no matter how many mistakes she's made.

"Thanks, Rachel. That means a lot," Ryan says with a smile.

"No problem. I should probably go, I've got a Zoom meeting in an hour. Tell Jackson I said goodbye?" Rachel asks softly.

"Of course. Bye, Rachel," Ryan says, smiling when Rachel waves just before ending the call.

Ryan locks the device and places it on the end table before rejoining Harry and Jackson in the kitchen. When she pokes her head in and watches Harry appropriately place the pepperoni slices wherever Jackson wants them, she can't help but smile like a fool at the sight of it all.

And just before Harry asks if Jackson was happy with his pizza, his son quickly adds, "Daddy, can I add bell peppers too? The green and orange ones, like Ryan has," and Ryan tries her hardest not to gasp.

Harry grins before sprinkling the same amount on Jackson's pizza, before popping all three into the oven. Ryan decides then to enter the kitchen completely, leaning her torso over the island countertop across from Jackson who's happily munching on a stay pepperoni slice from his position perched on the leather barstool.

With a quick look at Harry, Ryan wordlessly tells him that now is the best time to tell his son about their relationship. Harry nods before sidling up to Ryan's side across the counter from Jackson, looking at his son once he's finished swallowing his snack.

"Hey, Bubs, Ryan and I have something we want to tell you," Harry starts, watching his son nod happily on the barstool.

"Okay, daddy," Jackson says easily, looking between the two adults across from him with wide, inquisitive eyes.

Harry looks at Ryan before speaking. "You know how we've been spending a lot of time with each other lately?" Harry starts, pausing until Jackson's head starts bobbing up and down.

"Right, well we've decided that we really like each other. And that we want to keep spending time with each other, if that's okay with you?" It's quiet as Jackson mulls this over, his hand resting on his chin as he tries to wrap his five-year-old brain around what his father just explained to him.

"Of course that's okay with me. I like Ryan too, daddy," Jackson says, his green eyes squinting in confusion as he struggles to understand what Harry is trying to tell him.

"I know that, Bubs. But I like Ryan the way adults like each other, do you know what I'm trying to say to you?" Ryan can tell that Harry is struggling, because his palm flies up to the back of his neck as he rubs it awkwardly, beginning to stumble over his words as his brain begins to work in overdrive.

"I think so," Jackson starts, placing both palms down on the counter as he cocks his head to the side and looks at both of them from across the counter. "So you like her. And you kiss her, too? The way you used to kiss mummy?"

Ryan looks at Harry with wide eyes, hoping he can salvage the rest of this conversion before it implodes right in front of their faces.

"Yes, but I kiss Ryan because she is daddy's girlfriend. Do you understand now?" Harry asks.

Jackson nods, looking down at the countertop before lifting his eyes to meet Harry's. "Yeah, I get it. What does that make mummy, then?"

Ryan blushes, looking at Harry nervously. She can tell that he's thinking, because how do you explain the difference between a mother and a girlfriend to a five-year-old?

After a minute passes in silence, Harry clears his throat and says, "Mummy is still your mummy. And well, Ryan is, uh. Ryan is your—"

"—Your friend. Your very best friend, who cares about you and will always be here for you whenever you need me," Ryan says, interrupting Harry before he stutters all over his words.

Without thinking, she reaches her hand across the counter and grabs Jackson's smaller ones in her own, the same way he did to her the first day they met four months ago in the hallway. And once his eyes are locked on hers firmly, she adds, "Think of it as having two women in your life that care about you very much. Do you think that's something you'd be okay with?"

Jackson squeezes Ryan's hands tightly in his own before a ginormous grin breaks across his face. Harry can feel his shoulders slump in relief, and when he brings his arm around Ryan's shoulders and brings her against his side, Jackson just giggles loudly across from them, happily wiggling in his barstool.

"I think that's just the bestest news ever!" Jackson exclaims, smiling so big that the tiny dimples carved into his cheeks deepen.

The timer goes off, indicating that their pizzas are complete. Harry rounds the counter and begins pulling them from the oven. Ryan walks over to the barstool and lifts Jackson up from underneath his armpits, placing him on the ground so that he can settle into his spot in the breakfast nook.

After Harry places the pizzas on the table and grabs their beers and Jackson's juice from the counter, the three of them sit around the table while Ryan cuts small pieces for Jackson's little hands to grab.

Once she's made sure that Jackson's completely settled, Ryan reaches for her own beer and begins cutting into her pizza. The domesticity of it all no longer makes Harry or Ryan uncomfortable. Instead, they welcome the feeling with open arms, no longer batting an eye whenever Ryan wipes tomato sauce from Jackson's grabby hands, no longer falling slack-jawed when Jackson asks for a piece of Ryan's pizza instead of his own, no longer growing red in the face when Jackson grabs Ryan's hand when she's done eating her dinner.

Ryan offers to help Harry clean up, but once Jackson notices the two emerald wrapped presents in the corner of the living room, Ryan's practically dragged into the living room so that he can excitedly rip open his gifts.

"How about we wait for daddy, champ?" Ryan asks, sitting cross-legged against the floor with Luna in her lap and her back against the couch while Jackson begins strategizing how he should rip open the wrapping paper.

"I'm too excited I don't know if I can wait!" Jackson squeals, reaching for the smaller box below to try and guess what's hiding underneath.

After a few minutes of painfully waiting for Harry, he finally emerges and sits behind Ryan on the couch, caging his legs around her frame. When she feels him settle in behind her, Ryan leans back so that her head is closer to his lap, and Harry begins rubbing at her shoulders comfortingly while they both watch Jackson tear into the larger package.

"You didn't have to get him anything, you know," Harry whispers into Ryan's ear.

Ryan turns so that she's looking at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes amusedly and repeating his words from earlier. "I wanted to."

Jackson's excited shriek causes both Harry and Ryan to look at him, and when he holds up the brand new Nerf blaster that he tested out with Ryan almost two months ago, she can't help but grin wickedly back at him.

"No way! This is so great, Ryan! Thank you!" The fluorescent orange plastic gun sits on his lap as he begins pulling the trigger and watching the empty ammunition compartment spin clockwise.

"Should I be worried?" Harry asks ominously from behind Ryan, causing Jackson to look from his father to Ryan with nervous eyes.

With a subtle wink, reminding him to keep their secret between each other, Jackson giggles quietly before placing the gun back on the floor beside him. "Nothing to worry about, daddy," he says, reaching for the smaller yet heavier wrapped package in front of him.

As he begins tearing at the paper, Ryan grows more alert, sitting up straight so that she can see the expression on Jackson's face when he finally reveals the contents of his present. When the paper is finally removed from the top part of the gift, Jackson gasps when he notices seven varying sizes of books all with the words Harry Potter inscribed on the spine.

"Whoa." It's the first time Jackson's ever struggled with finding words, and when he turns the books over that are tied together with white tinsel, so that he can see each book separately, Ryan almost swears she can see his mouth open and close repeatedly.

"Figured you should have your own," Ryan says quietly, reaching over to untie the string so that he can thumb through the brand new pages of his own books.

"This is the greatest gift I've ever gotten," Jackson whispers, dropping the books to the floor so that he can scramble up to his knees and wrap his arms around Ryan's neck, engulfing her in a tight hug.

Ryan tries her hardest not to cry with happiness, because out of all of the hugs she's ever received in her entire lifetime (including the warm embraces Harry has gifted her in the past two months) this hug from Jackson beats them all. His tiny fists knot together at the nape of her neck, and she can feel him squeezing her tighter when her own arms fall around his torso, bringing him closer to her.

"Thank you so much," he whispers into her shoulder, letting her go and sitting back on the floor so that he can look at his brand new presents.

When Ryan sits back, she turns around so that she can see the look Harry gives her. She's almost certain that it could be love, but when he leans down and kisses her on the cheek, thanking her profusely, she's not sure if she's overthinking it all.

After the excitement of the party dwindles down and Jackson's muffling yawns into the crook of his elbow, Harry decides that it's time for bed. Jackson doesn't put up a fight, and when he gets up and begins heading into the bathroom to start his nighttime routine, he turns around before Harry can get up from the couch and follow him.

"Ryan? Can you put me to bed tonight?"

His question makes the warmth she feels whenever he looks at her flush through her insides, and when his sleepy green eyes twinkle and he holds a hand out waiting for her to hold, she's up and by his side without a second to spare. 

She lets Jackson pick out his pajamas, and when he's too tired to put his head through his blue sleep shirt, Ryan holds it over his body so that he can stick his arms through the holes and she can push it down appropriately. She pulls out the stool for him in the bathroom so that he can step up and brush his teeth, making sure to reach the deep corner of his mouth and swipe his toothbrush over his tongue until his breath is minty fresh. And once he's finished, she walks him into his bedroom and pulls down his covers, letting him slide in so that she can tuck him in tightly.

"Hey, Ryan?" Jackson asks sleepily, tucking his chin over the folded duvet against his chest.

"Yeah, champ?" Ryan asks, swiping a stray curl off of his forehead.

"Does this mean Luna gets to have a bed here, too? So she doesn't feel alone in your home whenever you're here?" His question is a simple one, but somehow Ryan can't find the words to answer. Because she's spent a lot of time feeling alone in her own home, and in the past two months she hasn't felt that feeling at all. She's wondering what it all means.

Before she can answer, Harry pops his head in from the hallway. "Ready for bed?"

Jackson nods, yawning one last time before snuggling deeper into his pillow. "Mhm. Night daddy. Night Ryan."

"Night, champ. Hope you had a great birthday." Ryan doesn't wait for him to respond, instead, she switches off his bedside lamp and flicks on the nightlight against the wall, shuffling across the room to meet Harry's waiting arms.

But before the door can fully close, they hear Jackson call out, "Love you both!" and Ryan halts in her steps.

It falls out of his mouth so easily, without question, as if it was something she should already know. And when Harry responds and Ryan's left staring dumbly at the wall, she's wondering if it really is that easy to fall in love with somebody else.

She's thinking about this while getting ready for bed with Harry later that night, exchanging her jeans and jumper for the yellow shirt he wore all day. It smells like him—hints of vanilla and sandalwood, all citrusy shampoo and that distinguishable smell that follows him around. They work in comfortable silence in his en suite, sharing the one sink as best they can. Harry waits while Ryan washes her face, and when she's hidden behind a face towel, Harry pinches her bum underneath the hem of his shirt and reaches for the toothpaste. Ryan squeals, and once Harry's begun brushing she does the same, smacking his hands away whenever he tries to bring her backside against his front, dribbling blue foamy toothpaste onto her shoulder. And when they both spit into the sink and head towards the mattress, her mind is still reeling.

It's no secret that Ryan's never grasped the concept of having a home. Growing up, she had two homes with two sets of parents in two different places. And when she became an adult, Ryan moved around more than anybody else—perfecting the ability to live out of cardboard boxes in different flats with different postal codes.

But now, she's actively thinking about what Jackson said about Luna having a home here in their flat. Because home isn't a physical place—it's a feeling. It's that warmth, that feeling of wrapping yourself in a heavy duvet on your mum's couch. It's mixing up parcels on purpose with the perfect excuse to knock on their door and see them again. It's that giddy feeling you get when you notice the other person's tea mug resting on your drying rack, a piece of them seemingly interwoven with your own life. It's reading a book you've read hundreds of times over again to somebody who's never experienced it before, saying each word as if it were the first time you've ever seen them. It's having matching food bowls for your kitten and a second bed for her in a place where she can make her own home.

Home is having two separate flats but feeling completely safe wrapped around each other on a juniper couch or in a king-sized mattress with grey sheets.

And when they're settled in these sheets, Ryan's legs wrapped securely around Harry's waist, Harry's hands crawling further down her body until the tips of his fingers skim the hem of his shirt resting on her thighs, they both know that this is it. This feeling they've been running from suddenly makes sense—suddenly makes loneliness feel like the stupidest thing in the world.

Just before Harry can rip the shirt off of Ryan's body, they hear his doorknob begin to wiggle for the second time that day. Harry groans frustratedly underneath his breath, allowing his head to fall against Ryan's shoulder before the door falls open. Jackson stands in the doorway, clad in the same blue flannel pajamas Ryan had just helped him put on, holding a red and orange book cover in his small hands.

"Everything all right, Bubs?" Harry asks once Ryan's unwrapped her legs from his waist and rolled over so that they're lying side by side.

Jackson nods, shuffling into the bedroom inch by inch. "Since it's my birthday and stuff, do you think Ryan could read to me a little?"

It's timid and adorable and Ryan can't help but start to smile, already knowing that she's going to say yes without even acknowledging that his birthday is almost over as soon as the clock changes from eleven thirty to midnight.

"C'mere, champ," Ryan says, patting the mattress happily.

Harry tries to argue, but when he sees his son's sleepy grin and his girlfriend's matching one, he knows there's no use. So once Jackson reaches their bedside, he grabs him from underneath his armpits and plops him comfortably in the space between him and Ryan.

Jackson shuffles under the covers, dropping the brand new hardcover into Ryan's lap. Harry flicks the lamp on the nightstand before turning on his left side, releasing his head on his waiting palm with his elbows bent so that he can watch both of them.

"Where'd we leave off?" Ryan asks even though she already knows from the dog-eared page in her own copy that Jackson clumsily marked off the last time they read together.

"The map! Harry has the Marauder's Map!" he squeals, turning his head so that he's practically cuddling into her chest.

Ryan giggles and Harry feels himself melting into his mattress. "Oh that's right. Okay, here we go."

Before she can let the first word on the page fall past her lips, Harry interrupts, "Does this mean I finally get to hear the Hagrid voice?"

She looks over and rolls her eyes, ignoring the amused twinkle in his own.

Once she's finished the first page, she can feel Harry's arm extend over Jackson's head and reach towards the messy plait falling past her shoulder. With steady hands, he removes the hair bobble and starts untangling the strands, wrapping a wavy tendril around his finger and letting out a quiet but relaxing breath that makes her feel more at home than ever before.

And with Jackson curling further into her chest and Harry running soothing fingers down her scalp, Ryan should be feeling the complete opposite.

But when she sneaks a look at Harry as she's turning the page, she notices that he's been looking at her instead of the black text carved into the book. And when their eyes lock for a brief moment, she feels time stand still. Her heart lets out a strong string of heavy thumps, her skin feels just the right amount of warmth, and she's never been more sure of her place in the world.

She thinks back to Fiona's declaration of love at first sight, and wonders if the glimmer in Harry's green eyes and the soft smile on his face is the same expression Roger wore the first time they met in that overcrowded club all those months ago.

And when Harry scrunches his face, wrinkling his nose adorably and squinting his eyes, Ryan knows for sure that Fiona's right.

It's love. It's always been love.