DRAG - [h.s. au]

35*

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All I ever want to say is

Are you mine?

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BENTLEY

I woke up before Harry today.

I woke up in his arms, my back pressed against his chest and the feeling of him exhaling through his nose against the shell of my ear. I wasn't afraid or nervous when I woke up either... I was fine.

The relief of waking up with someone else with me without being nervous brought a smile to my face. I don't know where that fear of mine came but I was glad it didn't apply to Harry.

A lot of my rules didn't apply to Harry.

Last night was incredible. Crashing that wedding was something I'd never forget and Harry made sure of it by fucking me hard afterwards.

He was dead asleep when I woke up and I was glad to see him like that. I know it wasn't easy waking up early enough that there was no chance I'd be awake, and he probably barely slept the past week that he was held captive. It was still early, and we fell asleep pretty late too.

I get up, throwing on one of the silk shirts he had bought himself yesterday, and grabbing my journal, there is shit to write about.

Poetry was my way of journaling in a way. My therapist knew I couldn't really talk about my issues because I didn't really understand them either, so as long as I got the feelings out somewhere, I'd be okay. I didn't really share my work with many people, but everyone around me knew I did it.

Apollo loved it, and I always sent him my work because I knew he did. His favorite was tattooed on him, and Dorian had been begging me to write something for him so he could get it tattooed as well, but I told him that my words came to me... and I hadn't found any inspiration that I was willing to share.

My words about Harry were the first ones that I was unwilling to share.

I know that one day I'll let him read them all, because I want him to know how much he's meant to me... how much he's inspired me... but I don't think either of us is ready to face the seriousness of whatever is going on between us.

The way he looked at me last night was different. I had never been looked at that way and it made me burn. He set me aflame and I really liked it. All my poems portrayed him as the devil.

Not evil, just the angel that fell from grace. I could tell Harry had his own issues and they probably scared him, but he didn't mention anything to me about them and I didn't want to push him to do so. I was pretty open about everything in my life too, there were just certain things, or well, a certain thing, that I kept completely to myself.

No Allie, no Rumer, or Z, Apollo or Dorian involved. It was between my parents and I and well, they're dead now.

I opened up the journal to look at things I had written before I came to Italy to get Harry, reading over them for the first time since I wrote them.

There's something so addictive about him.

Maybe it's his promiscuity.

Maybe it is the alluring idea of serving his punishment for all my sins.

And maybe it's my own abhorrence for our ardor towards one another.