Tribulation [h.s]

52

"I'm so good at telling lies
That came from my mother's side
Told a million to survive
Scattered 'cross my family line
God, I have my father's eyes
But my sister's when I cry
I can run, but I can't hide
From my family line."

-

There's something so beautiful about being wrapped up in Harry's arms.

In his embrace, my mind is quiet. There is no comprehension of time or space; the world fades and becomes nothing but a blur.

All I feel is Harry.

There are no nightmares, no bad memories, no panic. No dark storm clouds are hanging above my head, and no indescribable guilt is weighing heavily on my chest. No, my mind is at ease: solace, relief, repose – this is a feeling I thought only drugs could make me feel.

I don't know when he wrapped himself around me, and I don't really care. I just can't remember the last time I felt this safe before.

It's like my past never even existed while I sleep in his arms.

He shifts his weight on the bed, slowly peeling away from me. However, his lips graced my hairline before he could pull away completely. He murmurs, something I'm far too sleepy to fully comprehend.

"il mio dolce angelo."

I know he must think I'm asleep, so I make sure to hide my smile on the pillow for his sake. To witness such an indifferent, angry, violent, and hard-headed man act so gentle with me — fuck. I don't know how to act.

I thought he was getting up to go to the bathroom, so I had no trouble falling asleep again. I was hanging on to consciousness by a thread anyway. My eyes only open when his bedside falls cold, and I realize I've been alone for far too long. So, I push myself to sit up straight and rub my eyes before looking around the room.

"Haz?" Luckily for me, he isn't too far.

He's sitting on a sofa in the corner of our room by a window overlooking the city. A nightstand is situated beside the couch he sits on. On top of the nightstand is a lamp emitting a gentle honey-hued glow. He's wearing glasses that cutely frame his face while writing in a notebook.

He's so fucking cute.

I groan and make grabby hands at him. His bewildered smile could light up a dead heart. "Come back to bed," I beg him. I'm so cold with him gone.

"I can't right now." He looks back down and continues writing with his fine-point pen.

"What are you writing?" I ask through a yawn, pushing myself up out of bed before making my way over to him. I drag the blanket along with me, draping it over my shoulders.

He shrugs. "Nothin' interesting."

"I beg to differ. What is that, your diary or something?"

He snorts. "Somethin'  like that." He closes his notebook and puts it off to the side on top of the nightstand. "You should go back to bed, Als. It's late."

"Will you come with me?" He's quiet for far too long, and that's when my sleepy smile falters. "What is it, Harry?"

His chest rises and falls in a deep sigh. "I have to leave."

He's leaving? Now? It's like two in the morning. "W-Where are you going?"

"I have to meet up with an old friend," He says, getting to his feet. Now more aware of what's going on, I see he's already dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt, and sneakers. He's been ready to leave for quite some time, it seems.