the journal - h.s.

65

[amber’s pov]

At some point during the night he must have woken or maybe I had just fallen asleep before him, but as I woke up I realized Harry’s white t-shirt was gone. Laying on my stomach I had my hand resting against the skin on his upper left chest - right where his heart was hidden.

His head was tilted towards my side and I carefully lifted my head to look up at him. He was fast asleep. With his one arm around me and the other hanging out over the bedside. The bright morning light shone in through the little window making the bare, red, brick wall appear even more red and noticeable than I had thought it would be.

The scene seemed so natural and normal, but yet it was so significant. Or at least that was how I felt it, as I could literally feel the heat from his skin crawl into my fingertips. I watched how a beam of sunshine ran in over his chest, up lighting one of the sparrow tattoos with a delicate light.

If it hadn’t been for how peaceful he looked right now, I would probably have started tracing the lines of his body tattoos. They were so beautiful, they made me wish I could draw and furthermore ignited my curiosity to the point of it being unbearable.

But instead I managed to stay as still as I could enjoying the feeling of his warm skin all around me. His arm loosely over my back rested against my bare skin, which was revealed from the borrowed t-shirt having moved far up over my thighs. I was laying halfway in under the duvet and Harry was taking up the rest. I couldn’t take my eyes from him; how his skin was so perfectly smooth like a fresh piece of paper. Free from the wrinkles of worry and the discoloring from lack of sleep. The dark circles under his eyes were practically gone, the spark was back. His cheekbones had that natural flush to them which I adored, and his chest moved up and down in such a relaxing steady rhythm, that I almost fell asleep again.

His body was impressive to say the least; he was more well trained than I had thought. It looked so beautiful with the smooth, soft skin covering his refined muscles, as if had it been silk. With the occasional unique tattoo, which probably symbolized so many stories I still didn't knew off from his life.

Since he was asleep right now I guessed his muscles were not as pronounced as they could be if he made an effort. But I liked it like this actually, liked that he wasn’t trying. Liked that he was just himself as he had been since the second I had first met him. He might have a broken heart on the road to mending, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try living in the moment and enjoying the little things. It made me feel fuzzy that a sad soul like Harry’s could enjoy happy moments in such a way, that no one would realize the truth. But he hadn’t been someone else with me - he had been himself. He hadn’t hidden the hurtful truth or covered in the brutal reality. He had just been himself - and for that I couldn’t stop thinking of him as very brave. Some might say it was reckless, but I couldn't help wishing I could do the same. Just telling him everything.

I had no idea what the time it was. This moment seemed to last a nanosecond and an infinity. Even with Harry’s breathing I couldn’t be sure if time was simply looped or actually moving forward. I was just high with him. His skin, his messy morning hair, his warmth, his bravery, him.

 

[harry’s pov]

“Good morning.”

My eyes moved down to the source of the soft voice, as a wave washed in over me. A wave of relief.

Her hair was in great need of my fingertips moving the wild strands of hair back into place. Her eyes were the same as beautiful as ever, and her smile was careful but innocently sweet. My eyes travelled to my stomach briefly as I took in how we were laying here completely entangled under my dark blue duvet. Her hand was resting on my bare chest.

Oh hell. I had hoped I would have woken in time to put on the shirt again before she woke. I hadn’t wanted her to notice, didn’t want to make it seem like I was trying on anything. Not that I didn’t want to … but. Last time had been a disaster, so if space was what she needed. I wouldn't hesitate to give her that exactly. And taking off my shirt while sleeping with her next to me was probably pushing it a little. If not an awfully lot actually.

But the room had just been too warm, especially with her next to me. I had moved the duvet to cover only her, as she had fallen asleep in my arms. Turned down the radiator. I had even - after long consideration - dared to go into the kitchen for a glass of water. I had hurried back so quickly I had spilt half of the liquid in the hall anyway. But she hadn’t moved an inch in the meantime luckily, she had still been there. I had considered opening a window, but fearing she would be cold I had turned down that idea just as quickly. Eventually I had decided with myself I was going to burn up in my sleep, take off my shirt for a while, or sleep on the floor. Since the floor meant away from her; that simply hadn’t been an option for more than the moment it took for me to think the thought.

I lay very still taking in her reaction of my mysteriously missing shirt, and the fact that I in my sleep apparently had pulled her even closer and tighter. But she didn’t seem to mind one bit.

She sent me a grin and got a little up in a half seated position; looking over me, “do you feel better? Not so feverish?” I lifted my hand and smoothed out the lines from her frown of worry, as I was puzzled by how I not even with the fever had had nightmares this night. She was like my very own unprecedented drug I couldn't stop taking too much of - without knowing of the adverse effects yet, that if there were any.

“I feel … exceptionally well,” I couldn’t hold back the smirk, which made her smile wider. Carefully she moved herself so she was resting on my chest. I held my breath as she did so. With her chin resting on her crossed arms, she mumbled; “that’s good.”

Trying I lifted one arm and placed it around her. In response she put her head softly down so it was resting against my body. She could probably fall asleep laying like that; half in over my upper body with her ear against my chest so she could most likely hear my heart beating crazily. Was it possible to die from an overdose of her - my personal drug?

Without thinking much about it my fingertips started moving slowly and lazily over the bare skin on her lower back. Playing around with creating childish doodles, while I enjoyed the utter silence in my mind. It was like after that horrible thunderstorm was finally far gone and not a leaf would move in the air. Everything would seem frozen; alive and refreshed after having been torched and turned by the wild wind in an eternity, but finally it would simply be still and silent.

“Harry? Why did you throw your computer against your wall?”

I waited for the storm to start again - but it didn’t. Even though her careful words ignited the memories, I was able to distance myself from them, as my fingertips kept drawing lovingly patterns on her fair skin.

"I read a mail from my father and kinda lost it," I admitted truthfully, while my fingertips kept moving over her skin making me brave.

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a/n: so sorry that this was short! was very tricky to get this written actually >.<

anyway thanks for the group hug guys and I hope you liked this ^^ xx