Anchor {h.s}

twenty-nine

It was about an hour later that I woke up, my face pressed against Harry's chest. I grunted and nuzzled his skin, enjoying the unique smell he wore. His skin still glistened from the sweat he had produced earlier and I smiled, loving the fact that he was here, next to me.  

My lips kissed his chest, tracing with the tip of my fingers the numerous tattoos I could reach. My finger glided across every single line, and my eyes took in every details of the art that covered his body. He was twenty, and already his skin was covered in numerous untold stories and piece of art, that made him all the more beautiful. 

I loved him so much.  

I felt weightless; there were no worries on my mind, no heavy feeling on my heart. I felt weightless but I was pulled to him, like gravity anchoring people to the ground, my love for him anchored me to him. It was amazing to know that we were working towards something, together; that Harry wanted this as much as I did. I was so happy that it took everything in me not to wake Harry up and start another round.  

He looked peaceful as he slept. Small snores emitted from his parted lips and the slow rise and fall of his chest lulled me into an utter state of calm. It was hard to believe that only days ago I was in the same spot, but with tears flooding down my cheeks because of the boy that laid next to me today. 

I patiently waited until Harry woke up, endlessly tracing the two sparrows on his chest. Eventually, Harry took shorter breaths, started to move his arms slightly and contracted his muscles, and I knew that he was starting to wake up. I moved my head slightly to be able to get a good look at his face. He grunted and slowly stretched every part of his body before releasing a satisfied sigh and turning his head towards me.  

"Morning. Again," he mumbled hoarsely as a shy smile spread on his lips.

I giggle reaching for his cheek and pressing my lips against it. "I don't think it's still morning," I noted to tease him. "Good afternoon would be more appropriate."

He rolled his eyes playfully before taking his free hand to cup my face and align my lips with his. "Good afternoon," he retorted sarcastically before pressing his lips against mine.

I hummed and smiled. "Good afternoon," I replied.  

Harry took in a deep breath as he pulled me closer to him, then there was a long silence between us. There was no hint of awkwardness in the atmosphere around us, just simple acknowledgement of what was happening.  

"It's weird," Harry declared out of the blue.

I frowned and looked at him again. "What is?"

"This," he replied as he motioned between the two of us.

"Weird good or weird bad?" I asked while trying to sit up, but Harry held me down against him.

"Good," he answered. "Amazingly good." 

I breathed out, released by his answer. Harry shook his head, disapproving that I had jumped to a negative conclusion so quickly, but said nothing more about it.  

"It's weird waking up next to you and not having to apologize for knocking at your door at three a.m. high, or for hurting you," he explained.

I nodded. "Yeah, this is a bit unusual," I replied, strangely happy that Harry admitted this.

"I'm so happy that you're giving me a chance, Em," he whispered into my hair before pressing his lips onto my scalp.

I smiled, holding on tightly to him. "Me too," I murmured, my voice shaking a little, but to a point that it was barely noticeable.