Disclaimer: This story is set in an alternative universe (AU) - it is not the future of Harry and Nelly :) It's a different take of where their lives could have taken them.
The River
Nelly wasn't sure why she came here, to the river. All she knew was that after Harry left her house, she had to start walking and put some distance between them, get some air into her lungs. The winter air was moist and unseasonably warm, not as it should be. It took almost three hundred steps to get to the river from her house, thirty-five more to cross it over a sturdy, steel walking bridge and enter the park beyond. Yet, instead of moving into the quiet shelter of trees, she stopped here, to watch the river flow. She leaned on a handrail, polished by millions of touches, about halfway down the bridge, which spanned across a narrow, muddy ribbon below. The water was yellow-green, an oddly fresh and vibrant colour, like new grass peaking from under the snow. It flowed at a slow and steady pace, so slow it made no sound, its earthy smell of decay carried on the wind. Willows and ashes sunk into the water from eroded riverbanks, trunks stooped over the riverbed, leafless branches casting paper snowflake shadows on the water's surface. Nelly was mesmerised by the patterns, the way they rearranged when the breeze moved the willows. Watching them disrupted her troubled thoughts, but not for long. They didn't argue exactly, their conversation quiet and intense, but what was there to say when the love of your life showed up on your doorstep after a decade of silence?
There used to be a time when the river smelled of summer and lazy weekend afternoons, its current running quick and lush, full of fish, the riverbed bordered with tall grasses and smooth rocks. Harry and Nel used to come here for a quick swim after school or a weekend picnic, which was only an excuse for a make out session. They would rent a boat from the marina down the river, and Harry would fish, delighted with every catch, while she read. They finished high-school, found jobs in town, moved in together. Nelly thought they were happy, but Harry left without any warning, without ever saying goodbye. She was so worried, she reported him missing. Then she noticed empty drawers and closets. It nearly destroyed her. But life, like the river, had a way of moving on. These days, the river was nothing more than a winding ribbon of murky sewer, its banks muddy and littered with trash, the water barely moving forward, mostly redirected to the nearby farmlands. The view from where she was standing had always filled Nelly with ideas of what could have been, with sadness that was hard to shake, so most days she tried not to linger.
At first, Nelly didn't intend to open the door for the tall, bearded man in leather, looming behind her peephole. But he called out to her by name, used his own. When she heard his voice, there was no doubt as to who he was. A kaleidoscope of emotions tumbled through her mind: surprise, outrage, anger, pain, grief, longing. Her curiosity and need for answers had won out, and she let him in. Back when she knew him, Harry was a handsome, clean-cut high school football star, tall and muscled, but still a boy. He had grown into a towering, brawny man, with full beard and a long, thick braid of chestnut hair sneaking from under a bandana on his head. His eyes, as green as the river's water, were hard now, like they'd seen too much. His big, gentle hands were calloused and worn, nails dirty with grime. He reeked of engine grease and cigarettes, of the road and the outdoors. His well-worn leather jacket, covered with biker patches, creaked softly as he settled down on a chair in her small kitchen and rested his beat-up motorcycle helmet by his feet. Under any other circumstance she'd find this man threatening, but he seemed weary and defeated, in a way that made her want to reach out and offer comfort. He spoke first and said he hoped she would hear him out, find a way to forgive him, that he lived with regrets. She could tell by the inflection of his voice that he meant it. All Nel wanted to know was what the hell happened to make him disappear so suddenly? After all these years, he was struggling for answers. It got too serious too soon, was all he could tell her.
Sudden movement in a clump of grass attracted her attention. A family of ducks slowly slid out into the murky water and disturbed the shadow patterns of willow branches. No matter how bad it got, this was still their home. Harry said she was the only home he ever knew, that he spent the last ten years trying to find a place to belong. That it was the reason lost himself in a biker's life. He asked Nelly for another chance. They weren't eighteen anymore, she told him, but Nelly knew very well that the yearning for him had outlasted the grief and the pain. She couldn't lie to him, and most of all, she was not accustomed to lying to herself. She told him she would think about it. So here she was, thinking.
The river would always bring memories of her sweet, easy-going Harry. It might be a shadow of its former self, but it was still here and flowing forward, oblivious to Nelly's feelings. What if she wouldn't need reminders any more, what if all she had to do is turn over in her bed and see him by her side? The thought eased the ache in her heart. Was she willing to get to know this stranger who came back to her? Was it worth risking another heartbreak? Nelly knew the answers. She wanted to stop wondering, to stop hurting, and she wanted to give a life with this new Harry a try.