Ring. Ring. Ring.

I narrow my eyes at him but he just smiles in return.

"Hey mum."

I let out a sigh of relief as Trisha's voice filters through the line.

"Yeah, we're about to visit an art museum. Harry will probably snap some artsy pics. Uh huh. I know," he chuckles. "I fell in love with a hipster. He likes cold brew coffee and beanies. Can you believe it?"

I roll my eyes as he smirks over at me.

"No mum. No grandkids yet. How many? I dunno."

I hold up two fingers and his face softens, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Twins actually. I think we've decided on twins."

I nod in confirmation and I love yous are exchanged. He promptly ends the call and hands me his phone.

"Um...I believe this is yours babe."

"Scroll through the contacts."

I sigh but do it anyway, no sign of Mason in there.

"Missing a name, huh?" He pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. "I love you so much babe. Are you sure about twins though? Two kids...that's a lot."

"I think two is perfect."

"You're perfect," he pecks the tip of my nose and I giggle, squirming in his arms. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," I adjust my camera strap and he fixes his glasses.

He slips his hand into mine, clutches onto it as we stroll.

"All this art around us and you're the only masterpiece."

"You're so lame," he laughs.

He's right. I take way too many photos. Candid pictures of Zayn, abstract art, contemporary architecture and romantic ones, his lips pressed to mine.

"I don't know much about art. Obviously poetry is my speciality."

I'm trying to figure out why Jackson Pollock is so esteemed in the art world when it hits me. It's like existentialism in literature.

"The paint splatters mimic movement."

It all starts to click, the gears turning in my mind.

"Right," Zayn affirms. "It's a form of expression. It just looks like droplets of paint but there's something rhythmic about it; something deliberate."

"What's up with that?"

I point to a blocky print and Zayn squints, adjusting his glasses.

"Duchamp. I think he was part of the Cubist movement. Really off the wall stuff. Maybe he was trying to prove something."

"It's so blatant, it's like he's forcing you to accept it as art even if you can't find any value in it."

Zayn looks at me for a moment before he says "I'm in love with an artistic genius."

I blush furiously.

"I know who Andy Warhol is at least. Pop art is basically stolen from comic books but I'm not an art critic. What do I know? I'm just an English teacher."

He pouts as I laugh at him, pulling him towards the sculptures.

"I think I want to go back to school, get my Master's degree."

"Really? That's great Zayn!"

I tackle him with a hug and he chuckles, his fingers stroking my scalp.

"Ed told me about an open position at a publishing company in London, he said-"

"Where you going? Oxford?"

"Cambridge."

"Wow, so smart," I say breathlessly. "That's a long commute from London though."

"Well I think I'm going to move babe, closer to campus."

"Oh," my heart sinks. "But you just suggested I look into a job in London. That's kind of far."

"We can see each other on the weekends."

"I dunno Zayn. I'll think about it."

He kisses my cheek gently. "Good. You're really talented Harry. Don't let anything stop you from achieving your dreams."

"You're my dream."

My embrace around him tightens, as I squeeze tighter.

"Oh Harry," he sighs. "I don't have to go back to school."

"No no," I scramble for words."I want you to be happy. That's all I ask."

...

Zayn is out as soon as his head hits the pillow, his soft cheek creasing the pillowcase. His phone lights up and I'm terrified it's Mason under a different name but Ed's name flashes across the screen.

Did you talk to Harry??

I swallow the lump in my throat as I disconnect the charger and pad into the kitchen.

"Hello. Zayn?"

"Uh...it's Harry. He's already asleep. I think I should interview for that job."

There's silence on the other end of the line and he clears his throat.

"Sorry mate. The position was filled earlier today. I am terribly sorry."

I blink back tears. "No, it's okay." I try to hide the disappointment in my voice. "It isn't your fault."

"There's still some open positions you might be interested in. Same company, same job requirements."

"Really?" I grow giddy with excitement. Only for a moment.

"There's a catch."

I exhale, my fingers tugging at my curls.

"Okay..."

"It's in New York."

"New York," I repeat shakily. "That's so far."

"Well you'd just have to move."

Could I? How could I just leave Zayn behind.

"Thanks for letting me know Ed."

"You aren't interested? Not going without him, are you?"

"No."

And I quickly end the call. I slide back beneath the covers, the bed shifting under my weight.

"Shit," I mutter as Zayn stirs.

"Harry," he says groggily.

"Sorry baby," I caress his cheek. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"Why were you up?"

"Bathroom," I lie.

"Oh...you seem upset."

"I'm fine."

Another fucking lie.

"Talk to me babe. I swear there's nothing between Mason and-"

"It isn't that. The position is filled. Ed called me."

"It's okay. There are plenty of other opportunities."

"He told me about something in New York. Is he crazy? Like hell I'm leaving you."

His arms wrap around me, his warmth enveloping me.

"Don't let me go."

"Don't let go or don't let you go to New York?"

"Both," I murmur into the crook of his neck.

"We'll talk about this in the morning. Get some sleep."