August poured the coffee in two cups, and handed one to Harry. He was sitting on the bed now, still studying her room.

August felt nervous to have him there, but at the same time it felt just perfect. She had to get her shit together, she thought. After they changed, she felt such a strong pull towards him, it felt too hard to force herself out of the moment. But she had to, she knew they couldn't take that step.

August sat on the bed next to Harry then, taking a sip from her cup. She watched as Harry's eyes were focused on some of the paintings she had done and hung to the walls. They were mainly pictures of flowers or objects, the more personal ones weren't hanging.

"These paintings are amazing, Sunny." He whispered, transfixed.

"Thanks" she blushed "There's way more actually, but I don't have enough space to hang them up"

"No way, can I see?" He asked, looking at her with excitement.

She chuckled, and got up, opening the closet door next to the entrance. Harry followed behind, and gasped when he saw the inside of the closet. It was so full of paintings of every size that it looked like it was about to explode. August carefully grabbed her favorites, and laid them down on the bed.

Harry grabbed the first, and analyzed it. It was a picture of a bloody hand closed in a fist, and the blood dripping from it formed the word FAILURE on the surface under it. He shivered at the sight of it, wondering what had inspired the painting.

He didn't ask anything though, already glad August was sharing it with him. He didn't want to see her put up those walls again.

He moved to the second one. It was a small watercolor, and it was a portrait of a girl Harry recognized as Willow. She was laughing with a drink in her hands, and she looked so happy.

"I love this" Harry commented. "I love how you can show so much emotion in your paintings."

"It's all in the eyes." August explained. "See, it's all about capturing the light in them."

Harry nodded, noticing the light in the green eyes she had drawn.

He passed to the next one, which was very dark and torturous. It showed an ocean during a storm, and right in the middle, a rose was flying away, ripped from the ground, the wind breaking the petals from the flower. It was painted in such a dark and intense way, Harry knew it must have a meaning behind it.

He just looked at August with a questioning look, as if daring to see if she wanted to explain. August looked back at him with worried eyes, but then looked back at the painting. She grabbed it from his hands, and lifted it so she could see it better.

"It's a metaphor." She started explaining, her voice low and hushed. "I don't know if you remember this, but once, when we were at the Sunflower Tears the summer before I left, you said I tasted like salt air, after you kissed me." August sat down on the bed, and Harry followed her, the painting still safe in her hands.

"I remember" he answered, as if trying to encourage her to go on.

"Right, well. I said it was because I lived in a stormy ocean. Because my life back then was so fucked up, I felt like the storm was breaking me, like I was drowning." August took a deep breath, and looked up at Harry.

"To me, you've always been a rose. Gentle, beautiful, rare. Like a ray of sunshine in the black hole that was my life. So in this painting, I tried to represent how my storm of a life was tearing you apart." She explained, and her eyes were starting to fill up.

Harry was shocked by her words, and he didn't know how to answer.

"I liked flying away in the storm though. As long as I had you." He said, his voice hushed too. It felt like they were finally saying out loud the secrets they had kept to themselves for years.

August shook her head and wiped a few tears from her eyes, and then looked up at him, a sad smile on her lips.

"I'll show you a special one" she said, and walked to the closet, searching for one painting in particular. After a few minutes, she finally pulled it out, dusting it off before handing it to Harry.

The painting was done with acrylics on a canvas. Painted all over was a field of sunflowers, in the center all bright and vibrant, and the more far away from the center they got, the more they looked rotten. In the center, a boy was crying. It wasn't hard to tell the boy was Harry, he looked identical. His green eyes were focused and looked directly in the viewer's eyes, with tears running down. The boy looked sad, and the painting was so well done it almost looked real.

Harry took a breath in, and stood up to be at the same level as August. She was smiling shyly, her eyes fixated on the painting.

"That one is special because it's the first painting I did when I arrived here." She spoke, and Harry moved even closer to her, so that the only thing between them was the canvas.

"I was terrified that you hated me for what I'd done, and I couldn't even blame you if you did. I'd dream of you every night, you know?" She said, looking up at him with big blue eyes.

"What would you dream?"

"Mainly it was memories of that summer. But sometimes I would dream of coming back and seeing you again."

"Then why didn't you?" He asked, his eyebrows scrunching.

"I couldn't, Harry. I just couldn't." She answered, taking a step back, clearly uncomfortable with the question. Harry cleared his throat, fearing she was putting her walls back up, and asked the first thing he could think of.

"Why are the sunflowers rotting on the corners?"

August looked up, thankful he didn't ask anything more about her running away, and smiled at him in appreciation. She knew how hard it must be for him.

"I'm the sunflowers. I was in a bad place, I was rotting. But whenever I was with you, I felt alive again. It was like for a while there, you were the only thing keeping me sane." She explained, and Harry looked at the painting with amazement.

"And why am I crying?" He asked, his voice fragile.

"Because of the pain I caused you. Depending on you for my own happiness wasn't right, and I'm sorry I ever put you in that position, Harry."

A silence filled the room, as Harry kept his gaze on the canvas in his hands, and August looked at him with regret in her eyes.

He couldn't understand fully what had gone on in her head when she had decided to run away, but the thought of her dreaming of him, and her fearing his hate towards her, hurt him a little. As much as she had hurt him, he didn't want her to hurt too.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I really am." She said, her eyes watery now.

Harry looked up at her then, and she could see the tears starting to fill his eyes too. He put the painting down on the ground, and he felt a tear fall down his cheek.

Almost as an instinct, August reached her hand out, and gently caressed his face, drying a tear. The movement was done with so much love and appreciation, Harry couldn't resist but rest his face in her hand, closing his eyes.

"You know, I never told you, but I was falling in love with you." Harry whispered to her, opening his eyes again, and interlocking them with hers. August's expression became even more sad and melancholic, as she sniffled and stood even closer to him than before. They were inches apart, her hand still on his cheek, and she could feel his soft breath on her lips. His smell was intoxicating.

"I was falling in love with you too" she answered.

It happened in a matter of seconds. Harry was shocked to hear her say those words, and he looked at her deep in the eyes to search for some kind of remorse, but didn't find any. All he saw were her eyes looking at his lips.

He couldn't resist, needing to close the space between them, needing to feel her as much as possible.

And before he knew it, he was kissing her.

At first August seemed shocked, clearly taken aback by the sudden movement, and not moving, but Harry felt her relax in the kiss, finally giving in.

Her lips were smooth, and she kissed him back eagerly. August moved her arms on his shoulders, running her fingers in his curls, and Harry grabbed her by the hips.

The kiss was pure, sweet, sincere, but also desperate and passionate. It was like they were trying to make up for the past two years, and at the same time trying to enjoy every second of the kiss. She tasted like dark chocolate, freedom and a summer's day. He tasted like a good book, coffee and happiness.

August deepened the kiss, and Harry was quick to follow. The butterflies in his stomach erupted again, and he thought about how he hadn't felt like that ever since she had left. It was like all the pieces of the puzzle were back together, like the world was alright again. Her perfume, her taste, everything about her inebriated his brain, making him feel fuzzy and warm inside. Their bodies were pushed one against the other, and Harry pulled her even closer, wanting to never let go. Everything inside of him was exploding like a firework, the butterflies in his stomach stronger than ever. This felt better than he remembered, it felt better than anything he'd ever tried in his life. It was intoxicating, the feeling of her lips move on his.

He moved his hands on her back, sliding them upwards and hugging her to him, feeling her body pressed against his in pure passion. He wanted to feel every part of her, to show her the love and appreciation he had for her in his movements. She pulled him closer too, lifting herself on her toes to reach him better. He felt her inhale in the kiss, showing the passion she was feeling too, as she wasn't able to let go to take a breath.

August gripped his hair tighter, feeling his hands all over her, sending shivers down her spine. The kiss was so intense and passionate, the feeling of pure bliss was running through both their bodies.

It was August who pulled away first, letting out a shaky breath, and she rested her forehead to his. Her breath was uneven, and she looked at him in the eyes, her stare intense. Her lips were swollen, and they quickly shaped a smile on her features, Harry following suit.

"Fuck I've missed you" he whispered to her, and she chuckled in response.

Her arms were still rested on his shoulders, and his hands were back to her hips, as they stared at each other, both shocked from the feelings they had just felt.

A loud knock brought them out of their trance however, and August jumped out of Harry's arms, distancing herself from him. She seemed shocked all of a sudden, as if she had just then realized what had happened. Harry's eyes didn't leave her, trying to understand what was going through her mind, but she didn't return the gaze, her eyes focused on the floor.

The knock sounded again, and August rushed to the door, opening it quickly.

Willow, Will and Emma were on the other side, a smile on each of their faces.

"Hey babe, we were thinking of going to the cinema, wanna come with?" Willow asked, unaware of what she had just interrupted. August's heart was still beating too fast to be normal, and she felt like she couldn't move.

That was when Harry popped out from behind the door, and greeted everyone.

"I'm up for a movie, how about you?" He asked, looking down at August with a hopeful look.

"You know what, I'm not feeling too well, I think I'll just stay home." she said, her voice still a little shaky.