Incandescent | H.S

Part Four: Silk Sheets & Sunday Kinds Of Love

Harry's expression softened completely at your query, you were nervous and felt extremely vulnerable and his eyes were melting any disposition you felt. You really didn't want to sleep alone tonight.

You'd already imagined what his large frame would feel like wrapped around you, encasing you in his reassurance and his solace. His long legs tangled with yours and the movement of his chest against your back as he breathed deeply in his sleep. His warm vanilla scent cloaking you and lulling you into a daze and pulling you into a sleep in which you dreamed of him. You wanted to experience what anyone would be so lucky to experience, his trust in you and his comfort in being around you as your dreams entwined.

He lightly cleared his throat to hide his surprise and utter joy at your question. "Of course."

Harry watched as you quietly thanked him before moving to the vast space of his bed, the sheets messy and inviting, like a sea made of silk that you couldn't wait to dive into. You both slid into the waves, aware of how close the other one was and how large the gap was between you but more so wondering who was going to be the first to initiate its closure. You sat timidly, questioning why you were so wary but he sent you a soft expression before getting settled in next to you on his back. You found yourself mirroring his position, unsure of how to progress. You know where you wanted to be but didn't know how to get there and as you both were silent, internally twiddling your thumbs and looking for an indication from the other because neither of you knew how to proceed.

"I think..." His voice was but a whisper. You turned to look at him expectantly.

His gaze was burning holes into the ceiling. "I think sometimes I get so wrapped up in how I feel about someone I don't think about how getting involved with them can really fuck with their lives."

You inched closer to him, "How do you mean?"

"I mean as soon as the world finds out I'm seeing someone, it's over. My world... it poisons them. They get harassed, sent horrible things on the internet and it just... destroys them."

"It's horrible." You empathized with him and his obvious suffering. You weren't sure how to tread but he didn't seem to be looking for any sort of particular input. Almost leaking the words into the air just because you were there to listen.

"I just feel so fucking lonely and unlovable sometimes I can't stand it."

"Hey," You turned his head to face you. "You're not unlovable, you are one of the most genuine and giving people I've ever met. You just need someone who has a little patience and some tough skin. You are worth it, trust me."

He pulled you into him and cocooned you in his hold, squeezing you tightly with a low moan. He felt calm, his breathing slowing and you felt at peace with him seeming to relax. You didn't, however, pull away. He put you right where he wanted you and that's where you desired to be. You rested your head on the soft plane of his chest and he kissed the top of your head and you decided that right there in his embrace was the best place on Earth that you'd ever experienced. He smelt heavenly and felt magical against your body with your legs braided together. He let out a content sigh and his thumb rubbed soothing circles against your lower back while your fingers traced his butterfly tattoo, the touches lulling you both into a deep sleep.

When you woke in the morning, you were alone. For a second you thought you'd imagined the whole thing but then felt the richness of the silk sheets against your body instilled your right frame of mind and you sat up slowly, taking in your surroundings. You strained to hear any sounds that would indicate where Harry was but you heard silence.

You made your way downstairs and heard Etta James singing A Sunday Kind Of Love ghosting from the kitchen and the sound of an opening utensil draw. You could hear his dreamy voice as he sang along to the dreamy lyrics.