"Every rose has it's thorn just like every night has its dawn"

~ Every Rose Has its Thorne (Can't Be Tamed)

consciousness felt like getting smacked repeatedly in the head with a heavy hammer as a form of punishment for an outrageous crime. The pain was inexplicable, whisking me to flash my eyes open. My hands flew to grab my head, trying to keep it from moving as I sat up.

Darkness had taken over the sky, the dimly lit kitchen illuminating the living room and leading my eyes to where Harold laid peacefully unconscious.

I immediately forgot about how much pain moving my head would cause me and rushed to his side, ignoring the piercing shots of agony that wiped my thoughts.

"Harry?" I called out, the worry in my voice drowning out everything else. I tried to shake him a little, hoping not to cause him any pain.

He gave no response, sinking me deeper in worry and fright that something had gone wrong. The last thing I remember was Harold and I's unbelievably and detrimentally sweet moment, which was followed by a thunderstorm. Everything after that was a black box that I couldn't figure out how to decipher.

I figured that if I woke up fine, that is disregarding the major headache that fought to keep my focus from Harold, then he will do so as well. Maybe if I waited a while, he'll wake up okay.

Agreeing with myself, I stood to make some coffee for myself and for Harold if he woke to a headache like no other as well. Besides, I needed to do something with myself besides sitting there just waiting for Harold to wake up. I would drive myself crazy within seconds.

The kitchen's light was too dim for my liking, so I brightened it, immediately hissing when the light struck my eyes, hitching my headache to another level.

I groaned and pulled my hair into a bun that I'm sure was messier than messy before cleaning the coffee machine from this morning. As I put the coffee and water in, I heard a groan coming from the living room.

My heart dropped.

Harold woke up.

Not thinking, I turned the coffee machine on and rushed out of the kitchen and to Harold's side, cringing slightly when the fast movement sharpened the pangs of pain that shot through my brain.

I took the seat that was to Harold's left, who sat there with his head in his hands. My fingers ran through his soft hair, hoping to comfort him.

He must've been surprised by my presence because he looked up, his eyes very telling of how puzzled he was about the situation. "What happened?"

His voice was quite raspy and a lot meeker than I've ever heard or seen from him. I couldn't blame him; it was all so weird. But I did wake up before him, so I felt like it was my job to calm him and try to explain what was happening to the best of my understanding. So, I smiled, trying to reassure him that everything was okay as I spoke. "I'm not exactly sure, but it looks like the thunderstorm knocked us both out. I woke up a couple of minutes ago."

Pushing his fingers through his hair, he let out a long breath of comprehension, his posture molding and looking a lot more poised than before. He was returning to himself and knowing he was okay relieved some of the pain in my head. "Are you okay, though? You didn't get hurt, right?" he asked, his attention becoming more precise as he focused it on me.

I shook my head fast, wanting to drive his worry away as it was utterly pointless. "I'm fine; don't worry about me."

He narrowed his eyes, diligently looking for any signs that would give me away as a liar. He must've come up short, though, because his shoulders fell and his eyes lost their worry seconds later. "That's good. Do you have coffee from this morning or should I make some, because my head's killing me here now that I'm paying attention to it?"

I smiled proudly, knowing that I'd predicted right. "I made some before you woke up. I guessed you'd have a headache."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Oh. Why?"

"Cause I woke up with my head basically trying to kill me," I exaggerated, earning me a gorgeous smile from Harry.

"Well, if you made the coffee, I'll prepare it," he offered, standing slowly in an effort to not move too quick and cause himself more pain than necessary.

My hand grabbed his quickly, stopping him before he could go anywhere. "You just got up, Harry," I countered, getting up to face him, "I got it, its fine."

He smiled knowingly, squeezing my hand before letting go to cup my face in the softest grasp. "You don't have to worry about me, Elle. I'm sure I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"A hundred percent."

I stared at him for a short while, searching for a sign that he wasn't okay, but I couldn't find anything. Sighing, I nodded. "Fine, whatever."

He chuckled and leaned in for a short yet still wondrous kiss that left me frozen in my spot as he left for the kitchen. I opened my lips for a reason I couldn't understand and closed it quickly when I realized there was nothing I wanted to say.

I took the middle seat on the couch and opened Netflix, deciding that we might as well continue the movie I'd paused to spill my feelings. As I was about to click on the movie option, a sharp blaze of light stormed through my brain, drawing my thoughts away from everything and focusing it on a room that I've never seen before. It was white, so purely white and beautiful. The room's decor felt elegant in the way it radiated a welcoming theme yet held a mature and sophisticated feeling that required its guests to have a similar sense of style. A large window gazed out to a night that was beautifully lit by the lights of a large city that I quickly recognized as New York.

Confused, I looked out the window, trying to get an idea of what I was looking at and why I was daydreaming whilst still conscious.

Seconds later, a voice that I knew too well said, "you never told me your name, beautiful," in such an angelic way.

Bewildered, I blinked, turning to see where the voice was coming from. My eyes caught Harold, dressed in a twenties attire and looking younger than ever whilst still looking so handsome. There was a woman linked to his hand, their fingers entwined in such a loving way.

My heart dropped when I recognized her face.

It was me.

What the hell.

I blinked thrice, not knowing how to handle what I was looking at. Was it even real?

"Harry?" I called out, trying to see how real this all was. A second later, the dream melted away, leaving my question unanswered.

Reality took control of my thoughts once more. But before I could understand what had just happened, my weakened mind was overtaken by a fog of darkness that stole my consciousness.