Soap foam gathered on my hands as I traced my fingers through Harry's matted hair that had straightened from the water. His head leaned back onto my shoulder with the contact, eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks.
"Mm," he hummed.
I pressed a light kiss to his temple, my fingers moving in small circles against his scalp.
"Ella, what am I gonna do?" he sighed.
"You're gonna relax," I began, brushing away damp disheveled strands that fell in front of his eyes. "And be patient."
He huffed. "I can't be patient. I need answers. I need...I need closure."
"And you're gonna get it. You just have to wait."
It had been a couple of weeks since Harry had heard any new news on the case, and he was becoming exceedingly worried. Which made me worried. All he knew was that a gun, which could potentially be his father's, was buried with his mother's body, and they had sent it to a lab to scan it for fingerprints. What made Harry anxious was whose fingerprints were on it.
"You don't have to take care of me," he chuckled. "I'm twenty three years old."
"And?" I quipped. "You're stressed and upset and nervous, so right now, you're gonna loosen up and take a bath with me. Got it?"
He laughed at my supposedly caring demand. "Got it."
I grinned, my hands trailing down his neck to rest against his collarbones. A kiss was left just behind his ear, causing him to go slack against me.
As Harry's chest moves steadily beneath my palms, I think about how I chose this, chose us. I couldn't imagine myself washing anyone else's hair while discussing major life problems, or letting anyone else sit between my legs while taking a bath as if we were children. I did my best to make myself believe that my happiness and sadness and every other possible emotion and thought didn't base off of Harry, but it did. Harry and his well-being came first and foremost and then everything else. It's scary and humbling, but also my reason to keep going when the wind wants to knock me over. And I undoubtedly knew that he felt the same.
___________________
My nails drummed against the amber wood of the table, chin in my palm as I blankly stared at the black screen of my phone. I was told by William that the DNA results were supposed to be revealed today, and it was now thirteen minutes past midnight.
I jolted as a benign kiss was left on the lower nape of my neck. Hands lightly squeezed my shoulders as I sighed.
"Come to bed," Ella spoke softly behind me. "I'm cold up there all by myself."
"William should've - "
"I'm sure William will call in the morning, and if he doesn't tomorrow's another day. We can always go down to the office and figure out what's going on. Right now, you need to sleep."
She pecked the hinge of my jaw, resting her chin on my shoulder. "Please? I miss you."
I nodded, rotating to face her. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she retorted, taking my hand in hers. "Just come lie with me."
She gently pulled me with her as she spun around, traipsing up the stairs. I admired how the hem of my t-shirt swayed loosely against her upper thighs while she walked.
"And this is your bedroom," she commented as we entered in the doorway. "Just in case you've forgotten what it looks like." She released my hand before she plopped herself on the duvet.
"Hey," I said, dragging out the syllables. I shuffled around to the other side of the bed, climbing beside her. "I know what my room looks like."
"Are you sure? Because you haven't slept in here in a week."
