Luna and the Moon [H.S]

20: Christmas Morning.

"It's just... I thought maybe you'd regret asking," I blushed. He sat up fully now, pulling on my hands so I sat up with him on top of me. It felt weird being sat in this position, all of his weight was on my thighs as he focused his intense green eyes on my face.

"Why on earth would I regret it? Anyone would be lucky to be with you, I told you I was going to ask you out anyway it was just that I wanted to talk about Kate first."

"Kate?" I frowned, ah a name for the bitch. "Oh the ex. Is it the same girl in that photo?" I ticked my head towards the unit. Harry pulled his weight off of me as he moved gracefully towards the unit, green eyes inspecting the space before him.

"I didn't know that was still there," he mumbled, long fingers holding onto the frame tightly before pulling it apart to remove the adorable photo. I didn't speak, I didn't force him to remove the photo or speak of it I just allowed him to stand there holding it. If intense gazes could cause a flicker of fire and a raging bonfire, that small photo would be nothing but ashes. The hard stare Harry gave it almost made me question how much the situation affected him, after what he told me about their previous relationship I have no doubts that it is the main reason for Harry wanting nothing more than what we have to happen, but also keep it low key. I guess I am the same, I just didn't suffer the problems Harry did. "I'm sorry."

His soft words were almost too hard to hear as the whistling wind whirled against the glass window. I quietly got to my feet and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, his sharp intake of a breath informed me that my silent actions gave him a fright. His focus was taken up by this photo, I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing... Should it concern me that my newly official boyfriend can't tear his eyes away from this old photo of him and his emotionally abuse ex? Probably not, but a tinge of jealousy hasn't stopped itself flowing within my veins. Only until this moment did I realise Harry and I haven't taken a photo together, let alone printed and framed one.

"You don't need to be sorry, it's okay," I placed my lips to his bare back, his shoulder's tensing as I did so. It was like he forgot all about my presence, until he folded the photo up and tossed it in the small bin in the corner of his room. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry it was there, I should've taken it away ages ago I just couldn't find it in me to do so. And obviously since I met you I haven't been in this room to remove it, I completely forgot to ask my mum to take it away —"

"Hey!" I giggled, pulling myself away from his back and with as much strength as I could muster up, I turned Harry to face me. His eyes looked sad. "I'm not mad, or hurt... It's okay."

"I'd be mad and hurt if there was a photo of you and Mitchell," he shot back, comparing the two similar situations. It pains me that he thinks I am feeling a certain way when I am not, but I can't help but admit that I understand why he'd think I was mad or hurt. I mean, you don't exactly enjoy the view of your boyfriend staring at a picture of him and his ex, not the best feeling in the world.

"Well there's no need to worry about that. And honestly it doesn't matter, I'm here with you and she's irrelevant, okay? So let's just focus on us, yeah?" I smiled reassuringly as my fingers danced along the skin of his chest. Despite seeing his bare arms and chest a fair handful of times previously, it felt as though I was really looking at them in a new light. The butterfly tattoo on his stomach, the faded shade of black contrasting beautifully with the tan of his skin. Two leaves on his hip bones and two birds just under his collarbones. These simplistic inked pieces of art on his skin just looked like cool tattoos placed on his body to make him look dashingly handsome, but they most likely held some sort of meaning behind them that I was yet to discover.

His left arm was incredibly inked, it was hard to imagine him without this sleeve of random pieces of well drawn/written black swirly ink. But none the less, my eyes devoured each and every swirl and every shaded drawing. I was never a fan of tattoos, but on him, there's no way I could resist. He didn't have this bad boy demeanour about him, he was way to baby faced for that trait, but he had something special about him that even with the dark ink hiding some of his skin, he was deemed as gentle and cautious when you would come into contact with him.