Annabel [h.s.]

six

Harry rolled over on his side and released a deep breath. It was early and his body was exhausted. Slowly, he managed to pry his eyes open, only to discover that Annabel was no longer in bed with him.

It was strange to him because he had learned that she almost always slept later than him. A yawn took hold of him before he did anything else and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he thought about where she was.

Annabel had slept in his bed before and she usually stayed, but this time he wasn't entirely sure that she had. The previous night was the first night that he truly let her in on what he did and although she seemed to enjoy it as much as he did, he wasn't certain that she would be okay with it.

His mental state was fucked, always had been, but he hardly had any idea what hers was really like and, now that he thought about it, he was concerned. It was a weird feeling to him, wanting someone else to be okay, and he wasn't entirely sure how to go about it.

Harry remained in the comfort of his bed for another five minutes before deciding to find Annabel. He took his time getting out of bed and stretching out his limbs because somehow he knew that she hadn't left entirely.

After slipping on a pair of boxers and searching the house to find that she was not anywhere inside, he decided to check the backyard. Annabel had never explicitly said it before, but he knew that his backyard was her favorite place to be because he'd caught her staring at the space with a dream-like quality in her eyes.

Outside, it was nearly freezing and a dense fog weaved its way through the trees in thick tendrils. Annabel sat at the top of a small hill near the edge of his property, she was wearing his black sweater that was three times too big on her and the same pretty lace underwear that she had worn the night before.

Harry stood by the window for a long moment just looking at her. There was something about the way that she sat with her bare knees up to her chest, her arms over her knees and her head gently resting atop her arms, and how her hair fell down her back that had him rooted to the spot.

He stared at her for a while, he lost track after a couple of minutes, before he tore himself away to get his camera. When he'd made it back to his spot, she was still in the same position, as if time had frozen her exactly so just so he could capture it.

In moments, he had snapped a picture and gone somewhere in his mind that he never thought he would go. Harry got lost in his sea of thoughts and was brought back when the noise of the Polaroid being spit out began.

Once the image developed, he placed it and the camera on the island in the kitchen and stepped outside into the cool air. Annabel heard the door, but she remained motionless, save for the slow blink of her eyes.

Harry sat down beside her, his eyes absorbing the scenic view alongside hers. "It's cold out here."

The corners of her lips pulled up in the slightest of smiles, she responded with a curt nod and a soft spoken, "It is."

They sat in silence for a long time, the sounds of birds chirping and trees rustling in the wind filling the spaces between them. Harry was trying to come up with a way to ask her if she was alright without explicitly asking in the typical way.

Annabel's toes were starting to feel numb and her butt hurt from sitting on the cold, hard ground for so long. She'd been outside for about thirty minutes by the time Harry had found her and decided to join her in just his thin pair of boxers.

He must have been freezing, but it didn't show aside goosebumps that dotted his arms and legs. Annabel found it hard not to look at him. His hair was a mess and his lips were a deep pink, as if he'd been biting them all morning. In the dim morning light, accompanied by the fog, he looked just as breathtaking as the landscape in front of them.