Daddy issues || h.s

4.8

She woke, her feet entangled in his. He was still sleeping, a dark curl falling over his face, tickling his cheekbones. He looked so peaceful, every crease in his face smoothed out, his cheeks rosy and his soft lips slightly parted as he drew in slow, sleeping breaths. She kissed them, her lips like a feather on his, and brushed the curl out of his face. A small smile hid in the corner of his sleeping mouth, and in his dreams he pulled her closer.

"Harry," she whispered, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. "Harry, my dear, you have to wake up." Her words floated into his dreaming mind, and he scrunched up his face as he buried it in her chest. His breath tickled her skin, and she giggled.

"I don't want to wake up," he said, his voice drowned in sleep.

"You have to my love, it's past noon, and you can't live your life in a dream." She said, her voice a song in his ears.

"Yes I can," he murmured, "I can spend my life in a dream, if I spend it with you." He raised his head and looked at her. Sleep still clung to her features, and the night had tied her hair in messy knots. Gold no longer gleamed in her nose; she had discarded it, left it behind in a foreign country, as if she was a queen who no longer needed a golden crown to assure her status.

Once again, he was struck by her ethereal beauty. No one had ever looked like her. No one had ever been graced with the magnificent features nature had blessed her with. No one had ever had such high cheekbones, or such pink lips. No one had ever had such blue eyes or such black lashes. No one had ever had a chin, or a brow quite like hers. She was unique, otherworldly, a huldra, a siren, a mermaid, a human. She was Adelaide, and she was beautiful. Inside and out.

"That sounds lovely," She said, and laughed. "But where exactly will this dream lead us? That is what we have to find out."

He put a hand on her face, and played with her hair. He remembered a time when he could not even touch her hand, when he could barely look at her without blushing. Now he felt the outline of her body so perfectly pressed against his, and when he looked into the pools in her eyes, he knew exactly where the stars were hiding.

"That's easy," he said. "Second to the right, and then straight on till morning."

They went on the road again, leaving behind miles of dark asphalt as they drove towards their stars. The storm had left destruction in its wake, and dying trees lay scattered across the land, killed by the force of nature's violent love. But now the sun wept Freya's golden tears onto the horizon, and the wind kissed their cheeks as it danced through the windows. A song flowed from the radio, dripping words of love into their ears, or maybe they were words of sorrow. It didn't matter to them, because they were too busy writing their own song.

It was a song of flowers and of butterflies, of gold and of sun, of rain and dark skies, but most importantly; it was a song about them. And it was beautiful.

They drove in silence for a while, until Harry suddenly let out a loud laugh. Adelaide looked at him with wonder in her eyes, curious as to what he was laughing at. He laughed again and again, he couldn't stop, his whole body shook as he giggled, and tears of amusement soon rolled down his cheeks.

"Why are you laughing?" She asked, the taste of his contagious laughter at the tip of her tongue.

"Because," he said, gasping for air. "I was starting to worry we might have left something in the hotel room, but then I realised we have nothing to forget. We do not own anything in this world but this car, a backpack of adventure, and the clothes we are wearing." The dimples in his cheeks smiled as he beamed at her, and then she started laughing too.