Mellifluous || H.S (HIATUS)

16

Ever since part of her passed away, Amelia has felt closer to the world and what existing meant. It was always a question of time and how long it would take for fate to catch up, be it something good or a catastrophe. You see, Amelia was just like a natural catastrophe, her ambitions were as strong as the winds of a hurricane while her beautiful looks were as deadly as the force of a tidal wave, but her heart was as frail as the Earth during an earthquake. The beauty of the unknown was something she was fairly attracted to without knowing the dangers that came with it.

Ever since he was born, Harry had been a misfit in the world and familiar to how much suffering came along with it. It was always a question of how much and how deep it would cut, only to never heal again. He was a disaster waiting to happen. You see, Harry was just like a virus, getting in the way of everything and penetrating passing bodies so he could shift into something greater than he already was. Gathering pieces of information so he could grow stronger while trying not to be wiped out once more. But everybody left him in the end, being a virus meant he would only be able to stick with a person for as long as they would allow, always having some sort of medicine to get rid of him and he would stand alone once more in the world.

They were so broken in their own ways and perhaps the best thing is that they weren't trying to fill each other's holes with broken promises, instead they stayed. Because staying was the best they could do, staying was a promise in itself and a vow of trust more powerful than any other. Life was a bit easier to endure when they had each other and neither of them would want to imagine a world in which that wasn't possible.

 With time, Harry began thinking that maybe he wasn't as empty as he thought he was. No. In fact, he was full of grief, pain, misery and the mystery of not knowing where it all came from. The only memory he could vividly recall was that woman, that black haired woman with piercing purplish eyes, one from his dreams. He dreamt about her often, her lips were always moving as if she was trying to tell him something but no sounds came out, pure silence surrounding them as if it were the biggest weapon against the curly boy.

It came in waves, he didn't dream about her for months and then all of a sudden she would be all over his dreams for days straight. He knew he had seen her before, because the brain can't impersonate faces on its own, meaning that maybe she had been a passerby on the street, a character from a show or worst of all, someone dear to him. The fact that he had no idea from where struck him just as much every time, seeming as if he had a long conquest in front of him to figure out who the woman was, and what she was trying to tell him.

He groaned to himself as he rolled over on his bed, unable to fall asleep despite it being already early in the morning. Sleep was always a late company to him, only seeming to appear earlier when he was next to the ginger, as if sleep was trying to eat away any second more he could have with her. The boy wondered to himself if he should call her, talk to her about his worries and hope she would understand and not find him as crazy as he thinks he is. Amelia was the only person who could make his nightmares dream of happiness or something very close to it. She was a cloak that hid him from whatever he was running from and the one thing he so forcefully would vow to protect.

Sighing quietly to himself, he sat up in his bed and took notice that it was already seven am. Running a hand over his tired features, he grabbed his phone and dialed Amelia's number, but as soon as he did it he regretted it. What if she was still sound asleep? He would be bothering her, he would wake her up and make her lose sleep because of him.

After the first two beeps, he made the movement to end the call, until a beautifully torturous melody filled his ears.

''Harry?''

Her voice was laced with sleep, lips still barely moving against each other as her body tried to wake up her mind. He could notice it just from the way his name rolled off her tongue. For the short two nights he had slept next to her, he was afraid he had grown accustomed to it, the feeling of her skin on his and the weight of her petite figure in his arms. How her curls would messily get in the way but Harry found himself just as a goner for it as he was for her.