how it feels to be alive {tom riddle}

eighteen: touristy

TOURISTY

Lucia's eyes fluttered open as the morning light streamed in through the window.

She attempted to roll over, but found herself weighed down by an arm draped across her, and her legs intertwined with another pair to the point it would be hard for observers to differentiate between them.

Tom was still breathing softly beside her, the air tickling the back of her neck in a delightful way.

She reached for her phone on the bedside table, the movement causing his hand to drop. A mumble fell from his lips and he snaked his hand around her waist to pull her against him.

Lucia rolled her eyes, but relaxed into his touch as she scrolled mindlessly for a while.

"Morning." Tom said in a raspy morning voice.

"Good morning." She chuckled, "Couldn't find your own bed last night?"

"You fell asleep on my arm, so technically I was forced to stay here against my will." He said matter-of-factly.

"Sure, sure." Lucia rolled her eyes, trailing her fingers along his forearm, "I want to take you somewhere today."

"Where might that be?" Tom raised his eyebrows.

"Somewhere that wasn't around in the 40s." She explained, "The London Eye."

"The what?" He looked at her quizzically.

"It's the largest observation wheel in Europe." She beamed, "Probably the highest point you can view London from. It was built for the new millennium."

"That sounds dreadfully touristy and like a place that will be swarming with muggles." He looked at her sceptically.

"Exactly, and an incredibly daggy but wonderful thing we're going to do together. I just want you to have all the basic experiences of London in this modern age." She gave him a cheesy grin.

"Whatever you say." Tom chuckled.

Lucia untangled herself from his grip and got up, bringing her bag and clothes with her to go to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind her, she splashed water over her face and patted it dry with a towel. Digging through her bag for her mascara, she found the rest of the weed from last night, which she tucked into a more accessible pocket of the bag for use later.

Her eyes found the small bag that had been buried in the weed, a fine white powder clouding it's plastic. Was Darcy trying to be generous? She hadn't requested this.

She looked at it for a while, and back into the mirror. One time wouldn't hurt.

Surely.

She scooped some of the white powder onto her house keys, laughing at why she even still had them after moving out, but supposing this was a better use for them. She brought it to her nose and sniffed it sharply, repeating the action again and enjoying the familiar pain and pleasure it induced.

After collecting herself and changing into a black denim skirt and a white cami, she walked out to see Tom already dressed in jeans and a casual button-up shirt, leaning against the door with his hands in his pockets.

"Are you all good?" He asked her, looking at her appearance with a puzzled expression.

"I'm fine!" She smiled reassuringly, "Let's go."

***

After a breakfast of croissants and black coffee, they made their way towards the grand, white structure in the distance.