Capture My Heart (BK3: Niall Horan)

-Ch 39: Mysterious Mornings + Needing Nights.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: Mysterious Mornings + Needing Nights.

Niall Horan:

There was something oddly refreshing about waking up somewhere that was not the manmade confines of a building or roofed place of sorts. It made you feel like you were being very appreciative of the complex world we had inhabited. This feeling lasted if only for a few fleeting seconds somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness – but nevertheless I thought it was worth it. There was the small point that I did have some form of manmade roof over my head, and I was enclosed in the space of Harry’s two man tent: But this was seemingly insignificant as I knew that convincing Ashley to not sleep in at least a tent would be near the upmost impossible unless she was really, really, quite drunk.

I blinked a few times in an attempt to wake myself up. Ashley was still asleep but I wasn’t aware of how long she had actually been asleep for because I was pretty sure I had fallen asleep before her. I inhaled a gasp of the cold, November morning air, it woke me up considerably. I tried not to move too much because I didn’t want to wake Ashley up if she hadn’t slept well anyway. So I took my time about propping myself up using an elbow, before evaluating the situation of proximity we were in and how easy it would be to entangle myself out of it.

Seemingly sometime in my slumber littered state she’d got somewhat nervous or perhaps an extension of the undeniable fear she had prior to us sleeping. And to nurse this she’d pulled all the blankets she could on top of us to aid for the fact that she then unzipped her sleeping bag in order to move closer to me, I could only guess. This made me feel somewhat guilty and like I should have stayed awake until she fell asleep since she was clearly more scared about last night’s happening’s than me. I had noticed this was a significant difference between us; she got prolonged fear; fear that she dragged out for a long time and wound herself up about. Whereas I got high intensity fear, solid fear for a short period of time but it would pass fairly quickly and I could continue on with my life properly. Although I had to admit I found her method of coping with this quite cute, and it assured me that she didn’t think I was completely incapable of protecting her after I was too scared to go and check outside the tent alone.

I peered down at the smallness of her features immersed in slumber. Her head resting right at the base of the pillow that was covered with her hair. As she always did she had one hand with the duvet wrapped underneath her fingers and pulled to her chin. She looked like a child like this, and I didn’t deny myself the pleasurable act of admitting that I quite enjoyed looking at her when she was asleep. I suppose it was because I knew she was mostly happy and she looked very happy and at peace as well. If she was in any pain she couldn’t feel it at that moment, and hopefully her dreams that passed through her mind at that time were vividly drenched in happiness because I only wanted her to dream of happy things, I only wanted her to think of happy things.

Her arm that wasn’t folded to her chin lay outwards very near to the space I had been lying in, her fingers curled up at the end I got the incomplex desire to fold her dainty hand into my own, but I feared this would wake her up, so I refrained. Right then – the minutes that I spent just looking at her – began to grow into something I had been missing feeling in a while. I just wanted to touch her and hold her, kiss her and tell her I loved her over and over again, all at the same time. I wasn’t lying when I said that she was hard work sometimes, on bad days she drove me up the wall with frustration, she knew what things to say in an argument to bite back at me hard, and she had a very intelligent mind that knew just how to push my buttons to her advantage. But all things were flawed, and these off days counted for maybe ten good ones, and I kind of liked the bad days in a twisted way, because perfection seemed a lot less appealing to me than it did to her.