~Close your eyes and picture the warmth of the sun on your skin... that's how being loved by her felt~
Harry Styles is a nepotism baby turned new father, left clueless with a newborn baby to raise, he is overwhelmed and under pressure. Matters are...
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"I understand it now." I whisper to myself.
Rolled on my side with my arm tucked up under my head, I watch Sunday sleeping peacefully beside me. A slither of sunlight bursts through the gap in the drawn curtains, glowing over her bare back and her golden hair.
Reaching out, I gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear so I can get a better view of her face.
Her cheek mushed into the white pillow that she was hugging in her arms. Darkened eyelashes curtain the apples of her cheeks, blanketing her eyes in sleep.
"Why your parents called you Sunday at least..."
I hum, blinking in utter awe at how a person can be this beautiful.
Inside and out.
"It makes sense because you do feel like a Sunday. You feel like a Sunday afternoon... the lull in the day where it feels like for a moment, everything just stops. Everything is peaceful."
She pinches her eyes closed tighter, grumbling a little as she rolls a fraction closer to me.
"You make everything peaceful," I tell her unconscious body, knowing that I am really talking to no one. "You make everything better. You just make everything- you are everything."
Running my cold fingertip, I slide it slowly down the curve of her shoulder to trace along her arm that is bent to hug the pillow.
The softness of her skin underneath my fingertip is addictive. She is a drug that I don't want to give up. The way that goosebumps automatically litter her skin tells me that she's not in as deep of a sleep as I once thought.
Dragging my finger down, I trace the natural line of her left arm, all the way along her wrist that's slightly scarred from that god-forsaken hair tie that's still on my wrist. Pulling further over her hand until my finger dances just shy of the matching gold wedding band that she still has looped around her ring finger.
I smile to myself, knowing that in reality, these rings don't actually symbolise anything. But she hasn't taken it off.
Nor have I.
"Mmm-" She groans, scooting her body closer to mine and squeezing the pillow she was hugging tighter.
I feel one of her smooth legs, slot between mine to hook herself onto me. Using that as leverage, she sleepily shuffles into my warmth.
Even though her eyes are still closed, Sunny parts her lips to speak again.
"-Are you talking to yourself again?"
In the morning her voice is a little groggier than normal and yet it still sounds sweeter than any song could ever be.
"No," I reply, leaning forward to sponge a kiss on her forehead. "I was talking to you but you were asleep."
