Daddy issues || h.s

4.9

Nothing. He felt nothing. He heard nothing. It was as though he didn't exist. As if, from the moment the glass had shattered about their bodies, everything had ceased to be. Silence, deafening silence. It filled the void of nothingness with its malicious tones. Silence. Nothing. 

Then, a heartbeat.

It was a small drum, a pulse of life, a breath of air. It filled the void of nothingness with its sweet tones. 

Then, a name.

It was honey on his lips, a mellifluous song, a call for help.

"Adelaide," the name dripped from his lips, landing silently on the shards of glass. "Adelaide." His voice was broken, and now that too lay scattered about him. He tried again, but the word didn't have wings strong enough to carry it. Slowly, as in a dream, he tried to open his eyes, and found himself in the midst of a nightmare. His eyelids were heavy, as if they were filled with lead, and his eyes were blank, glazed over with the dull film of shock. It took a while for his eyes to focus, for the film to be ripped away, but once his eyes landed on the shattered windows and the blood on his knuckles, he stopped dreaming. 

His hands were still on the steering wheel, his fingers cramping as they wrapped around it, and the seatbelt clung to his body, leaving purple marks where it bit into his skin. A dull ache spread from his thigh. A piece of glass had kissed it, her jagged lips leaving behind a red stain of violent love. He didn't notice any of it though, not the blood, not the bruise, because his eyes were fixed on the seat beside him; It was empty. 

"Adelaide," He screamed silently, for still his voice lay shattered on the floor. The drum within his chest beat faster, and the crying violins in his mind rose into a crescendo of doom. She was not there, he could not see her, he could not touch her, he could not kiss her, because she was not...

"Harry," the voice broke though the symphony inside of him, and the car door flew open. She was there, illuminated by the yellow light of the still-glowing headlights. Her face was clean, untouched, as if fate had loved her too much to hurt her. 

"Adelaide," He said, and finally his voice flew from his lips and landed on hers. 

"Yes, Harry, I'm okay, I'm okay," She said, softly kissing his pink lips. As he felt her breath against his skin, trumpets played in his veins and a piano sung in his heart. She was there, she was alive; he could feel it in her fingertips and in her heart, he could feel it in her hands and in her chest, he could see it in her body and in her eyes. She was alive, she was there, he could feel it.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his eyes a silent rainstorm.

"Yes, I'm okay, just a couple of broken ribs. Are you okay?" He could not answer her question, because the symphony inside of him was too loud, and the storm in his eyes too violent. 

"I'm okay," He said. "I'm okay as long as you are okay." She smiled, and suddenly the sun shone though the darkness of the night, and bathed him in her golden light. 

He got out of the car, holding her hand in his, their fingers intertwined like the roots of a tree. He would never let her go again, he would forever have her palm against his so that he could feel her heart beat beneath her skin, and know that she was still alive.

They stood still for a while, looking at the wrecked car. The silence of the night engulfed them, her onyx lips kissing everything but them, because the headlights of the car were still smiling, lifting the darkness with their golden haze. 

"What are we going to do now?" She asked. "We were chasing the stars, and now we can chase them no longer."

"Now," he said, "We wait. We wait for a car, or for the sun, while we look up. Because my dear, I think we have found the stars." He kissed her temple, and pointed towards the sky, and the thousands constellations above them.