MAGNETIC [H.S.]

37. stars around my scars*

songs:
off the table- ariana grande
around my neck- finneas

"Scoot over, dimples. I'm cold." I didn't remember falling asleep on the window side of the bed, but it was always so much colder over there. December brought that extra chill in the air that made everything crisp and sharp in its coldness.

Harry scooted just a bit and nuzzled his face into my neck. One arm rested above our heads and the other draped across my body limply, he was still sound asleep, his breath was even, soft, and warm against my skin. I curled the comforter up and over us, covering my bare torso in hopes to gain some warmth.

The city was quiet that morning, which left me alone with my thoughts as I turned my head and stared out the window. I closed my eyes and my mind replayed the same thing that had circulated for months now, "It's okay baby, I love you too." When my eyes were closed I could watch the way his mouth formed around the words. I could practically feel the air move from his mouth as he said them. When my eyes were closed I could hear him say it again.

But he hadn't.

To be fair, neither had I. But, that's beside the point. Every night, and every morning, and sometimes in the middle of the afternoon, I would just have this wave of uncertainty. This overwhelming sense of dread that I may never hear him say that again. This crippling fear that we may never heal ourselves enough to get to that place.

As I watched the leaves blow out the window I couldn't help but wonder if loving each other openly and honestly and vulnerably was ever going to be on the table for us. We'd given each other so many scars in our past, ripped open old wounds until they were bumpy and dark and jagged when they healed over. We were in a place now where they were softer, a little more palatable, like he'd drawn stars around them, romanticized the pain we caused each other.

The doubt was infectious but easily pushed down by the pull in my chest. For every painful thought of us being too far gone to make this work, another grounding thought would remind me that no one in the world feels like him. I'd be reminded of every time our eyes met across a room, every time his fingers brushed my skin in secret, every lie I told just to have a few moments with him, every single thing I sacrificed just to have him for small moments. This could not be fleeting, this could not be temporary, it had to be him.

I couldn't feel like this for nothing.

I closed my eyes again and felt him next to me, felt the heat from his body and the weight of his limbs where they tangled with mine. For years I dreamt of this, of having him like this. I spent every night hating him because he didn't want me this way, and now here he was. Wanting me, holding me, spending every night in bed with me. He was making me meals and kissing me in public, holding my hand, and sitting me in his lap in front of all of our friends.

Why could I never be satisfied? Why was nothing ever enough for me? This life that I was living was more than I ever thought I would have. I never imagined that I could have Harry, and live the life I wanted to.