Carolina [h.s]

forty two

south carolina
august 7th, 1990.

Vada
//

6:34 a.m

It's peaceful from where I'm laying. The room I spent many days in alone, washes grey over its walls as the windows pour in a cool breeze from last night's thunderstorm.

And to my right lays the boy who runs my mind deep and circles my veins as they shudder my heart deep in his presence.

Where the clock reads six in the morning, I realize he has been asleep for over twelve hours.

Long eyelashes brush the top of his cheekbones just barely, and I follow my eyes from the top of his narrow nose to the corners of his mouth where soft breaths are even and steady. He lays on his back, an arm over his bare torso where his hands have reached out for me more than once during the night.

Last night's concert still rings in my ears, and I picture the person standing tall with confidence and dignity at the front mic. Harry poured his heart and soul into his songs, while his band played behind him and the crowd cheered him on like a king.

But as I watch him now, his bruises bleed in a different meaning and the shadow of his heartbeat keeps me sane. So I cling to him now, knowing it was only a matter of time before he evaporated like a dark cloud of smoke again.

***

I woke up again later that day, a little less sleepless than before. Rain pours again from the opened windows and I hear the heavy thunder sound in the distance. Gray heavy clouds make daybreak darker than usual. But this was my favorite weather in the world, so I wasn't complaining.

With no sleep left in me, I carefully stretched my way out of the comfort of my warm bed and left the dead-to-the-world boy behind as I trod lightly down the creaky staircase. Pulling a cardigan over my shoulders, I open all the windows downstairs and let the cool breeze sail through the house.

In the kitchen I turn up the stove that sizzles with bacon as the coffee pot drips loudly. The morning fills with a hum of a random tune, and flipping through one of my gram's cooking books as I pretend to know what I'm doing.

But as I'm grabbing plates from the cabinets, I catch sight of the tall boy from the corner of my eye as he lingers in the doorway. I find myself jumping in surprise at his sudden appearance.

"You scared me," I say, after a laugh as I hold a hand over my heart and it goes beating from fear to thudding in a frenzy.

"Sorry," Harry smirks, leaning off the door frame as long legs covered in loose washed jeans step towards me.