skinny || h.s. au [Rewrite Now Up!]

fortyseven

Bliss. Harry is in bliss.

Marley lays on his chest. Her head in the crook of his neck and her breathing heavy against his skin. Reminding him of what they just did.

The air feels still. A sort of tranquil silence hovering in the room. Harry could stay like this for hours.

But that bliss can't last forever.

"Marr..." He says softly. His fingers tracing lightly over her bare arm. "Was... was that your first?"

He wants it to be. In a selfish way.

She sighs. Because she was content in the silence. But now that it's broken, so is the lock on the box holding back her emotions. "No."

She rolls off him. And gets up.

Harry is slightly hurt. And jealous. He wasn't her first. And he sort of wants to go find whoever it was and pound their face in for no reason.

As soon as the thought comes to mind, he quickly pushes it away. That's not him. That's not who he is.

At least, not anymore.

Marley is pulling her clothes back on. And all Harry wants is to reverse the last thirty seconds and wishes he hadn't spoken. They could have stayed there for another five minutes, at least.

He wasn't her first. But Harry sort of wishes he was.

"Why are you getting dressed? Come back to bed." He says.

Marley wishes she could. But the voice in her head is already taunting her. And now that she's used him, she feels awful. Dirty. The mention of her real first time only reminds her of the way she was used. And it makes her feel even worse.

The chain continues.

"I need to... umm..." Marley trails off. And as soon as her pants are back on, she walks out of his room.

And down the hall where she locks herself in the bathroom. When she closes her eyes she can still see it. Practically still feel it.

His fingers burning her skin wherever they touched. His hair tickling her flushed cheeks. The cold pendant, that she didn't even know he was wearing, trailing along her collarbone.

A shiver runs through her. But not because she feels cold. In fact the opposite. She feels like her insides are on fire. The kind of slight warm burn your fingers get when you come back inside from being out in the cold too long. And it makes you feel a bit feverish.

Marley opens her eyes. Walks over to the sink. And turns it to cold, watching the stream swirl around the bowl and down the drain.

She feels an awful lot like a broken mess of cheap glass and fake flowers on the floor of her kitchen. And she's tired of feeling that way.

"What have I done?"

I'll tell you what you did. You fucked up like you always do.

"I'm a horrible person."

Yeah, we already knew that, honey. Why else would your whole family leave you?