More than a Melody (H.S) ON HOLD

49

forty nine

It's two in the morning.

Harry's tired eyes look down at me, the way I have a pillow pressed against my chest and my legs tucked in.

"I already put your things in the car and the heats on. I'll give you a few minutes to get dressed."

His voice is deep and raspy, he wipes at his tired eyes and leans across me to switch on the bedside lamp. I couldn't even remember when I fell asleep, or where. But I was in Harry's bed and his side was perfectly made.

"Harry it's only-,"

"We have to drive to Seattle. You have to leave your things with Miles."

His figure stands in front of the light, casting a warm glow behind him as he waits for me to fully register his words. I slowly sit up, pushing the comforter off of me and standing beside him. Our height difference always made me feel so small - so fragile - and with all the nerves compacted inside of me, such feelings increased tenfold.

"I didn't know we would be leaving from Seattle," I say in a low voice, a part of me dreading the long ride of silence and anxiety that will pile on with each hour and another part of me absolutely ecstatic that I can say goodbye to Miles one more time. I can see him one last time.

"I know, I'm sorry there are so many things being thrown at you last minute, but we weren't exactly prepared to be leaving for Italy so soon. The timing was very sudden."

At what moment was it cut short? Is what I want to ask but don't say. Was it when Vince confessed there was far more to my life than I expected? Having to leave and be back with Harry? When was the time expected to be perfect?

"I'll get dressed and meet you in the car," my hand rubs his shoulder reassuringly, very brief, but enough to make his arm tense and his gaze warm.

He reaches his hand back and opens the drawer to the nightstand, pulling out a tube of healing cream.

"Apply this before you change," he mumbles, not making eye contact as he places the ointment bottle into my palm. I look down, enclosing my fingers around its frame, and suck in a breath.

"Do it for me."

I don't know what flipped inside of me. Two days ago I refused his touch because I was afraid of being drawn in too far, into a rip current of green eyes and careful words. Separation was easier than proximity. But I suppose I knew it was only him and I now. Harry and Jane. Fighting the cravings would only drive me more mad. And I want him to touch me, even for just a moment. I want to feel nothing but him before we leave, before my life is officially restarted. Just one more time.

I lift the shirt I slept in, Harry's shirt, and stand there, chest bare. Harry's eyes never stray from mine.

"Say please." He asserts, grabbing the bottle and squeezing a dab of the white lotion onto his fingertip, still not breaking away from my gaze.

"Please."

"Good girl," Harry winks and then my chest is met with a chilling sensation that makes me jump in surprise. He rubs the cream in slow circles, covering the surface area until it becomes nothing but a glossy, warm coating from his fingertips.