Matilda | Harry Styles

FORTY-THREE

I didn't have words for how the air felt around us the next morning.

I woke up to find Harry still asleep next to me, with his hair drawn messily over his beautiful face. My eyes flickered slowly over him, as he held me in his arms, and I waited. I waited for the peace to slowly drift; for it to be replaced with that uncomfortable, unsettling sinking feeling that inevitably hit, every morning - whether I'd been awake for five seconds, or for an hour - it would always, always hit. That funny twinge of guilt; that heaviness on my chest and my shoulders in a solemn reminder that there was so much I was hiding.

But that feeling didn't come, then.

I waited - I watched him; taking in every intricate detail of his sleeping expression, and tracing my thumb over the faint freckles on his complexion, but the feeling still didn't come. I leaned into him, nuzzling against his neck with a sudden urge to feel him closer, and I felt him squeeze his arms gently around my lower back, in return. I knew he was stirring, now, but neither of us had it in us to let go.

I wasn't even sure what time it had been when we'd finally fallen asleep last night, or what time it had been when we'd dragged ourselves away from the couch, to the bed, to intertwine our bodies in another warm embrace. It was like he hadn't wanted to let go of me, and I certainly didn't want him to, either.

I wasn't sure how long we'd spent talking - sharing little details and stories, until we couldn't talk anymore. It was like once I'd started, I couldn't stop - every question he had, I tried to answer, just like he always answered mine. And I asked them - I asked more, finally, feeling like I could properly hear him open up in the way he'd always been so willing to. It had scared me so much that he was always so open, and I often hadn't let him be, for the fear he'd try and prompt a similar openness in return. Now I could ask.

The fear hadn't just evaporated, and I had to keep reminding myself that it was okay, now, no matter how panicked and unsure I felt - it felt wrong, just as much as it felt right, to tell him the truth; my body and my mind were practically screaming at me with every word that left my mouth, all night. It wasn't easy, still, and I wasn't sure if I'd get there, at some point. But this was undoubtedly a huge start.

"I'm so proud of you," he'd mumbled against my hair, at some point later in the night. The phrase had made my shoulders rise, my lip drawn between my teeth as I processed the sentence. It wasn't the only sentence I'd heard from him that evening that would take a lot for me to process, as I was sure he'd feel the same about many of mine.

I felt his hand rub gently over my back as I cuddled against him, a soft exhale leaving his lips as they grazed my forehead. I felt so calm, it almost had the reverse effect. The way it felt to be with him was something I'd never gotten used to - but especially now, with everything so blatantly out on the table; it felt like growing accustomed to him was something completely out of the realm of possibility.

Growing accustomed to how he loved me.

I'd feared that after everything I'd said, he might look at me like I was broken. I'd thought he'd look at me with an unfamiliar glint in his eye, as he'd finally read me, and he hadn't liked what he'd read - but it didn't feel that way at all. The look, instead, was so warm - I didn't even have any words for it. It was somehow deeper than it had been before. I loved it.

"Can I just say it once...?" The low, sleepy rasp of his voice broke through the silence of our bedroom, now, and I tilted my chin up to look into his sleepy eyes. One of his hands rested behind his head, now, as the other drew circles on my back, and I watched how his lazy gaze trailed over my face, making me smile despite my confusion.

"Mm?"

"Once... I'll say it once, and then you have my word, I won't say it again all day," he said, causing me to slightly narrow my eyes. I didn't understand. I racked my brain for a moment, in search of an answer regarding what he was talking about, but I didn't find one. I tilted my head, still confused, but too besotted with the sight of him in front of me to even worry about it.