vegas | H.S.

s t a t e o f a l a r m

"Do you think our children will have curly hair like yours?" He was constantly a visionary when their future was concerned. Although every circumstance around him had terrorized several opportunities to be together, there was hope deeply embedded within him enough to remain resilient.

Much like him, she loved to imagine the what ifs of their relationship. Whether it come to past or not.

"I would hope so. Your hair might be the texture of their hair," She mentioned.

"What about baby names?"

"Hmm, possibly Oliver for a boy, and Ryan for a girl. I also like the name Faye for a girl too," Her wet finger emerged from the water to tap her indented chin. He assumed that she was deep in thought, but he wouldn't mind to name the children any of the ones she suggested. Oliver was suitable for a son, and Ryan was a name he envisioned for a strong woman, much like the woman before him.

Their conversations withered into different topics, ranging from Harry's abnormal obsession of collecting rings to the translucent screening on the window where anyone could lurk on their bathing session. Vegas conducted most of the complaining, bickering about her privacy rights but Harry put up a fight for her not to worry over trivial things. Both understood that he would be the only one to truly see every part of her body.

The skin of their complex fingertips began to wrinkle, shape shifting into raisins, and it was utilized as a reason to get out of the tub. Vegas reached to grasp at a white, cotton towel folded previously before she yanked it from the rack. With the assistance of her lover, she stepped out to wrap the material around her body to dry her moist skin.

The ability to walk had gotten better as the steps continued to the bedroom, where she sat on the mess of the crinkled sheets. Like she predicted, the strands of her once straightened locks were corked into spiral curls. It spiraled out of her control, but for duration of the day, she would not mind.

"Can I borrow one of your shirts?" Her voice raised to a slightly higher pitch in order to reach Harry. He informed her that he needed to wash his hair after claiming that it was 'too dirty for his liking'. The trickling shower water that pattered to the tile could be heard from where she was, but he should be able to hear her at some level.

"You say something?" He temporarily cut off the water, opening the glass doors that secluded the shower off on its own.

"I said, can I borrow one of your shirts?"

"Of course baby girl. What's mine is yours," Harry responded from underneath the sound of the returning water source to his hair.

With the background noise of his preluded vocal cords stretching with a tune, Vegas traversed to the location of their suitcases in the nearby corner. Her digits wrapped around the zipper of his solid, jet black luggage to see the folded shades of clothing: jeans and shirts that she could easily picture him wearing without hesitation or further thought.

His musk scent filled her nostrils to the brim as she raised a long-sleeve tee from the clothing collection. She lifted the material, pulling her head through the hole while her arms assembled through the sleeves to allow the shirt to drape over her torso. She dived into her duffle bag for a pair of undergarments, selecting a lace fabric from the assorted lot. When the garment was on her hips, she crawled onto the bed and snuggled into the comforter clothed in their scents combined.