Affluent [H.S]

Forty Seven

10 January 2021
Emersyn Styles

I woke up in the night to thunder, loud claps outside the room that shook the window panes and gusts of wind that rattled the locked balcony door.

I've never been afraid of storms but in the pitch black room in the middle of the night, I was terrified.

"Harry." I tapped his toned shoulder with urgency while he slept peacefully on his tummy, arms pillowed beneath his head with lips pouted out. "Baby, wake up."

He stirred with a soft groan rumbling from the depths of his chest while the sky illuminates from a bolt of lightning that strikes the ground outside. "Harry... wake up." There was no rush from him, so deep in sleep it took him a few seconds to be pulled from it - I hope he's not like this when I go into labour.

"Mmm." He grumbles, sliding a hand across the mattress and blindly finding my bump, despite Little Star being fast asleep a sleepy smile still coats Harry's face. A smile that never fails to make my insides melt and feel gooey, his adorable sleepy grin.

"H, baby..." I give him a gentle nudge and his tired eyes peel open in the pitch black room, looking over at me with a tiny crease between his brows.

"What's wrong? Is the baby okay?" He worries tiredly.

A clap of thunder seems to answer his question, brows quirking as he slowly shifts himself closer and wraps an arm around my nervous body. "Is my girl scared of the thunder? Need me to protect you?"

I drop my head onto his chest, jumping at the loud clap but Harry gently soothes his fingertips down my bare arm comfortingly with a hum. "It can't get you in here, I promise." He whispers, "what can I do to make you feel better, Angel?"

There's a few beats of silence where I consider how he could help me, what I want to feel in my veins to shake the fear of the storm whirring outside. I glance up at his face in the darkened room, a bolt of lightning illuminating his skin for a very brief second.

"Could you sing?" My voice is fragile, nervous of him declining but he turns his head - our noses brushing against each other.

"I can sing for Angel. What would you like me to sing?"

My brows furrow as I think but the answer comes immediately to mind, "something you've written."

"Something I've written?" He reiterates, gently nuzzling his nose against mine. "Hmm..." The little thinking hum melts me into his arms deeper, desperate for sleep to come back over me.

"Alright, get cosy, Angel." He brings me in even closer, resting my head gently on his shoulder while we lay quietly between the claps of thunder. His soothing voice comes out extremely gentle, "just stop your cryin', it's a sign of the times... welcome to the final show, I hope you're wearing your best clothes."