" livin' in a movie i've watched"
---
aurora astor.
The comfort of Harry's bed has been a place of sanctuary these past few days.
It has been this endless cycle of sleep-deprived days consisting of the same routine of things: eating with him in his kitchen, scorching showers in an attempt to feel something, curling up into his couch under the gloomy sunlight, and right back into the same bed.
After the first night, I welcomed the touch I craved so bad. I invited his arms wrapped around me, keeping me safe until I couldn't breathe under the weight of the pain seeping through my mind.
And I'm fine, snuggled under the warm covers laced in his cologne while his shirt and boxers stay drape over my body.
I'm fucking tired. I don't want to move from this quiet peace with my eyes shut in recollection of this incessant loop in my mind.
Until a gentle caress sparks my body back to life, and I softly inhale while bracing for reality again. "Rory," he whispers, stroking the strands of my hair stuck to my cheek out of my face.
His accented voice coaxes me back to life, and I blink my eyes open to his angel face glowing in sunlight as he sits beside me – absolutely shirtless in just a pair of cotton gray shorts.
His puffy eyes sparkle green, and his plush pink lips twitch up into that infamous, gut-wrenching smile. It warms the entirety of my body in a heartbeat as I stare up at him under the blinding light.
"Hey, sleepy," he murmurs with a subtle smile spread across his face. I hum softly as I nuzzle my cheek into his palm while shutting my eyes again.
"Hey, hey, come on–" he instantly shakes me to this reality again, and I huff at him.
"Harry–" I grumble at the fatigue, rolling toward him to bury my face into the plush pillow. His soft laughter echoes through my ears like a simple melody in contrast to the havoc in my head.
His fingers run through my hair to run his fingernails across my scalp, gently stroking me back into the arms of sleep like a lullaby.
I perceive the bed shift, and his body heat radiates across my body. I instantly hum the second his lips press against the side of my head, "Come eat breakfast with me," he softly requests.
I turn my head, allowing oxygen back into my nose. I blink my tired eyes open to his stupid smile inches from my face with his shirtless body propped up on his forearm.
I simply blink at him laying next to me on his side, wondering how he was real sometimes.
His ink on full display, trailing over the ripples of muscles on his olive skin. The beauty of his structured face with those fading bruises and white butterfly bandages still held on his face. To his emerald eyes twinkling hues of green within them. His floppy hair falls in warm chestnut curls of his forehead, and those pink lips hold a boyish smile carving a dimple into his cheek.
God, he was art in every way.
"For fuck's sake, Ace, you want me to beg for it?" He amusingly murmurs.
My lips finally curve upward with my cheek squished against the pillow – capturing his adoration with a brighter smile deepening that dimple wrinkled in his cheek.
"Please?" He laughs at himself while he whispers, and I snicker softly.
He leans closer, planting a kiss on my cheek. "Please," he chuckles, and I pinch my eyes shut as he begins to attack my face in playful kisses. "Please, baby," he kisses the tip of my nose, then my cheek, and then my jaw.
"Fuck! Harry–" I softly laugh, and he tears back to allow me to breathe. "Okay, okay," I breathe out with this matching grin on my face, and his green eyes sparkle down on me.
He snickers in pride and leans back down to my brush the tip of his nose against mine. My heart skips multiple beats to stir through my stomach.
I hold my breath, afraid of my morning breath clashing with the fresh mint radiating off him. His mouth teases against mine, and I roll closer to him to capture his lips against mine.
But the British fucker draws back, ripping the momentary bliss from me with that god-awful smirk on his face. "You can get that if you get your ass out of bed," he gently pats my cheek, and I scoff at him – baffled.
"Harry–" I groan as he rolls away, taking the warm body heat from me. The bed shifts as he gets off his bed to tower back to his height.
"Rory–" he mocks my tone as he readjusts the waistband of his shorts before walking away with that smirk still on his face.
I huff as I listen to his footsteps bounce down the stairs, and fade out to the clatter through his kitchen. I sigh, loosening my smile with that relieving breath. My mind goes numb again, and I stare out at the doorway to his bathroom awaiting me.
Throwing the comforter off of me, I inhale while lifting off the bed. My bare feet hit the cold hardwood, and I trudge into the bathroom to the colder tile beneath my feet. I rub at my dry eyes while heading to the sink, and find this awful reflection of myself staring back.
My hair sticks up in different directions at the back of my head, and a light purple hue runs under my eyes from sleep that only comes in waves. I sigh at the sight of myself with his t-shirt practically falling off a shoulder.
I grab my red toothbrush, squeeze out minty toothpaste over the bristles, and then wet the bristles before sticking it into my mouth. I brush my teeth, half-asleep, to foam the potent mint over my teeth to cleanse out my mouth. I scrub my tongue and lean over to spit into the sink.
I wash it off and stick my toothbrush into the toothbrush holder next to his pink one. Then I use his face wash and scrub my face in suds to clean my tired skin. I wash the soap off with ice-cold water, hoping to feel something from the chill.
I pat my face dry and sniffle lightly. I use his moisturizer, slowly rubbing it into my face before cleaning it all up. I run my fingers through my hair, and part my hair three ways before simply braiding it.
I take a deep breath and empty out my lungs entirely before turning around. I trek out into his platform room to the smell of bacon wafting through the air. Stepping down the stairs, I make my way through his loft flooded with the golden sunlight.
I turn to walk through the open living room and find him facing away from me at the stove.
My footsteps stay quiet as I watch the muscles of his back flex while he flips something in a pan. I reach the island and slip up into the stool.
Just as Harry turns around with the pan gripped in his hand, displaying the veins running up his inked forearm. I take him by surprise as I sit in front of the plate full of avocado toast, hash, and bacon. He proudly smiles at me.
"Look at that, she finally got up," he murmurs, sliding half of the scrambled white eggs onto my plate next to the other breakfast foods.
"Thank you," I mumble while he slides the other half onto his plate beside me. He turns to place the pan down on the stovetop to cool.
He hums as he trails over to me with forks, and sets one down next to me. I flicked my eyes down to the shiny silver fork next to my plate. "Must have really wanted that kiss?" He arrogantly hums, and I glance up at him grinning down at me.
He takes my jaw in his fingers to lift my chin up to him and leans down to surprisingly kiss my lips. I reciprocate the domestic act, and he pecks my mouth once more before drawing back.
"Should have known that was all you needed to get out of bed," he pridefully chimes.
I shove his bare chest with an eye roll. His laughter bounces off the walls of his hollow kitchen as he rounds the back of me to sit himself into the stool beside me.
I stare down at the inviting food and pick the toast up first while I perceive his large palm run down the length of my back. I glance over as I chew the savory breakfast, and his subtly puffy green eyes find mine while he chews a bite of eggs without the touch leaving mine.
"What are you doing today?" I softly ask, and he forks hash to take into his mouth. He chews with a hum and his jaw defined, thinking on the answer while I take another bite of the toast.
"Mm," he licks his pink lips, "I have to pick something up downtown, and then ..." he flickers his opal eyes down to me. "I'm taking you somewhere–" he begins with a knowing smile, and my eyebrows bunch together as I chew my bite of greasy bacon.
"No, no, Harry, 'm just gonna stay here–" I begin with a headshake, and he gives me an expression that forces my lips shut.
"No excuses, 'm taking you out of the loft," he murmurs as his hand smoothes up to rub comfortingly over my upper back.
I huff at him in obvious defeat, parting my lips to defend my case. "You haven't left in days," he tells me, and I tiredly blink at him while losing my appetite the longer I truly think about it.
"I–" I can't even get a word out before he cuts me off, as he does best.
"I don't care," is his words to me, and I squint my eyes in a glare towards him.
He simply smiles, "Eat," he tells me again while flickering his eyes down to my plate.
I cave, "Where are we going?" I curiously ask while digging into the crispy hash.
He hums next to me, and I dare to glance over to that expression I know all too well at this point.
"You really think I'm telling you?" He amusingly asks while chewing a big bite, and I shake my head at him while continuing to eat.
The two of us share minimal conversation as we eat breakfast – yet another meal he's cooked for me. His warming touch remained the entirety of the meal, delicately caressing over the thin material of his shirt on my back.
I get up, stealthily grabbing his plate as he gulps down his coffee from the ceramic mug. "Ace–" he mumbles in warning as I snatch his mug to the pile of dishes in my hand, and I hum as I proudly smile in the same manner as the one who does it best.
"Hurry up, you're already killing me with the suspense," I murmur as I run the tap over the plates and utensils.
His chuckle resounds through the kitchen, "I'll be back soon," he calls out. I glance over my shoulder to visibly inspect the smile I can hear in his voice, and I find it as he turns to sprint up the stairs.
I softly smile to myself, focusing back on washing the dishes to set them onto the drying rack. I hum as I begin to wash the pans and utensils we used. Then I wipe down the countertops and lift my eyes to the sound of his quick footsteps down the stairs.
And my lips part in this stupid shock at his outfit, I momentarily freeze what I'm doing to simply stare at him. "You okay?" He laughs at me in confusion as my eyes rake down his tall figure.
Obviously fucking not.
He dons a white t-shirt with a vintage sage nike logo, baggy vintage blue overalls, and his black canvas vans tied on his feet. And the onyx ink etched into his toned arms, and his chestnut curls falling just into place saturate the artwork in front of me.
He rounds the island and pecks the side of my head. "I'll be back, get ready to go," he murmurs into my hair. I cannot even formulate sentences, stammering on words as I stare at how pretty he looks right now.
He snickers as he backs away, swiping his keys looped to the hot pink carabiner from the counter before slipping out.
"This motherfucker–" I scoff in disbelief at him the second the door slams shut, and attempt to continue cleaning to occupy myself before heading back up the stairs.
I stare around, and make the bed before trekking over to the packed duffle we brought from my place. I sink to the wood, rummaging through it to find something as remotely as good as him.
I take my time, pulling out an outfit to accommodate the warm spring weather upon us. I remove his clothes, throwing them into his laundry basket before letting the dress slip over my body clad just in my fresh, off-white lace thong.
I trek into the hollow bathroom with my makeup bag and relish my time attempting to look better than what reflects in the mirror.
I cover up my darkened under eyes with a concealer and add color to my cheekbones with a rosy blush. I line my eyes with a subtle light brown liner, and lift my eyelashes with mascara in an attempt towards a subtle foxy look. I run clear gel through my brows and call it enough.
I let my hair tie slip from the braid, and undo the hair to shake out the waves in my hair. My throat constricts as I fix my hair into place, covering up the splotched yellow bruises on my shoulder that have yet to fade.
I necessitate a deep breath, tilting my hair slightly to allow my waves to cascade over my bare shoulder. I try to find something pretty in the mirror in front of me but with the gloomy cloud in my mind, it's nearly impossible.
I huff at myself, frustrated with my own numb mind while I turn away from the sight. I wander out, and slip my vans onto my feet before lacing them up. I quickly spray perfume and run deodorant on before I slowly descend the stairs, and trek back over to his clean kitchen to sit myself down on one of the island kitchen stools.
I stare down at my chipping black-painted fingernails and run my thumb over the lingering purpled bruises on my knuckles. I swallow thickly and look away to begin scrolling through my phone while I wait for him to come back.
Time runs together, and I nearly jump when the lock rattles and the door swings open.
I lift my eyes to watch him stroll in, catching his gaze to witness his jade eyes do a double-take on me, "Ror–" he stammers on words.
"Ready ... to go?" He murmurs in disbelief, and I slip out of the chair to my feet.
His eyes instantly rake down me in desire. He's half out of the door to stare down at my body clad in a loose flowing pastel green dress falling to my mid-thigh with little white flowers embroidered into it. And the thin straps tie at my shoulder in little bows, covered mostly by the ends of my hair.
"Fucking hell–" he mumbles under his breath, and I snicker as I walk over to him.
"At least a hint?" I anxiously ask, and he breathes out a shaky laugh at me before his hand glides across my lower back to lead me out for the first time in days – like the touch was needed to ensure I made it out of the place.
His touch sears through the delicately thin material, right to my bareback to pulse a warmth like no other through me.
"Nice try," is all he gives me as he locks up his place before we walk over to the elevator.
The two of us head down to the ground. I bare his entranced stare across the metal box from me the entirety of the short ride. He toys with his bottom lip curled into that ridiculous smirk, and I simply stare back at him.
And we head out of his building to the radiating sun warming my skin for the first time in days. The fresh air entering my lungs eases the weight on my shoulders, and I savor it as we walk side-by-side down the paved pathway to his classic black car, glossy under the sun's rays.
Unlocking the car, I slip into the leather seat with him on the other side. My gut stirs in suspense, unsure of what he's bound to surprise me with. Harry starts up the car, thrumming the engine to life with the accompaniment of his soul music seeping into my ears.
And I glance over to his palm extended to me with the usual: a cigarette.
I lightly smile up at him and meet his eyes glowing green under the sun seeping through the window. "It's a longer drive," he murmurs as I take it from him and he slips one out for himself. I grab the pink lighter from his cupholder.
Placing the fresh cigarette filter between my lips, I roll the spark wheel to ignite a hot flame. My heart pinches at the sight, and I burn the end of my white stick to grant the fresh tobacco smoke down my throat.
I pull the cigarette back between my fingers and exhale the hot smoke like a breath of conditioned relief.
I glance over at Harry's side profile as he drives with the windows down, and he pulls his round-framed sunglasses over his eyes. His curls blow in the gusts of warm wind while he drives fast. And that untouched cigarette hangs from his lips.
I lean over the center console and light up for him to receive a soft hum as the smoke drifts from those cherry-wine stained lips. He lightly coughs as per usual, and it grants a smile to myself.
I fall back into my seat, "Seatbelt," he murmurs to me. I mindlessly pull it on over my chest, clicking it into place to curl into the seat.
I stare out the window as the gusts of spring air flood through the windows, blowing through our hair with our cigarette smoke lingering on my pores and clothes.
His hand finds my thigh, smoothing his hand across my thigh and bunching my dress up to my upper thigh to perceive his cold fingers contrast with his warm, calloused palm against my skin.
His thumb gently runs its course, rubbing soft circles to my bare skin as he speeds up onto the freeway. My heart thunders as my cigarette dwindles, and burns out for me to stick it into the ashtray in his car.
I swallow thickly, curiously glancing up at the green exit sign in an indication of where we could be going. Noticing it's just out of the city, I turn to stare at his amused side profile.
"Harry–" I warn him, and he hums softly as the city skyline fades in the rearview mirror.
"Yes, baby?" He innocently murmurs back with a gentle laugh, and I slump further into the posterior of the leather seat.
He realizes the suspense is killing me so he gently squeezes my bare thigh in some kind of form of reassurance. "Relax, just trust me," he requests the impossible but he made falling for the idea a little easier.
So I watch my city fade into suburbs, nostalgic in their own way to the childhood of mine that now seems like a fever dream. And he drives and drives, distancing ourselves from that city and the chaos and the loft I've holed myself in.
Until he drives onto gravel to capture my attention again, drawing his warm hand back from its place on my thigh to switch the car into park in front of the vast field of endless greenery.
White flowers and wildflowers line the green grassy hills with the sun beaming down on nature so alien from my city.
My lips part as I sit up to get a better look at the field in front of us, and I glance over to find Harry pulling his seatbelt off with a small grin on his face.
"This is it, isn't it? You're finally going to murder me?" I bluntly ask to regard him nervously beam down at me.
"Maybe," he sarcastically mutters, nodding his head for me to get out.
I scoff at his schematics once again and get out to sense the radiant sun dancing across my skin again. The gentle breeze cools my body against the harsh sun beaming down on us.
City traffic's been replaced with the nature around us – it's quietly serene out here.
I glance over to find Harry hidden behind the open trunk.
And he steps out with a basket gripped in his ring-clad hand and a folded pink gingham picnic blanket tucked under his inked arm. My heart arrests through my chest, halted by the unknown gesture accompanied by that foolish, dimpled smile on his face.
"A picnic?" I breathlessly murmur up to him as he walks over to me, glowing under the golden sun. "You brought me all the way out here for a picnic?" I couldn't possibly process the reality of it, and he simply hums while nudging me to the field.
"Well, it's no murder plot ..." he playfully smirks, "But it's as far as I can get you away from there," he truthfully tells me.
I glance up to his eyes still shaded by those frames. I force myself to bite the inside of my cheek to hide my smile as the gravel transitions to the grassy earth beneath our feet.
I help him lay the rose-colored blanket out flat, and he sets the basket down on top of it. I stare down at it all, and I swallow thickly in some kind of nerves.
I gaze at him, completely baffled, "I have one more thing," he murmurs over the spring life chirping around us.
"What?" I laugh in utter bewilderment, watching that infamous dimple carve into his pink flushed cheek.
"Stay put," he instructs me. I scoff as he begins to walk backwards to the car several meters away from us now.
"Where the fuck would I go?" I sarcastically call out as I stick my arms out in indication of the vast nothingness around us. His laugh echoes with the breeze to warm my skin more than the sun.
My smile breaks free as I slowly do a 360 to take in the rolling greenery, and I sink onto the soft blanket to lay back.
My chest feels warm, and my stomach is full of flutters as I stare up at the cerulean sky with passing cirrus clouds overhead. Birds fly free over me, and the crickets chirp through the grass to accompany the spring life surrounding me like a hug.
"Close your fucking eyes," Harry's voice reemerges into this dream, and my lips twitch up again as I shut my eyes and place my palms over my closed eyelids.
"Just get it over with," I mumble with a small laugh escaping my lips in reference to his original murder plot.
A thud hits the grass next to me with a clatter while he curses under his breath, and I snort to myself.
"Shut up–" he complains in my vicinity, and I smile to myself as my body grows anxious in sunny jitters.
I hear him sit with a deep sigh, and he softly clears his throat. "Alright, you can look," he murmurs softly.
I slip my hands from my face to blink my eyes open to the blinding light. I roll over, finding Harry sitting next to me with his legs extended whilst reclining back on his palms in those baggy overalls. His shades are pushed into his warm brown curls, holding them off his forehead.
But his emerald eyes flicker over beside me, and in confusion, I roll onto my forearms to glance next to me at the too-familiar cardboard storage box.
I instantly shuffle up to sit back on the heels of my vans, and my lips remain parted as I realize what he brought.
At a loss for words, I lift the blank canvas from the box to reveal the roughed-up, metallic tubes of acrylic paints that mom bought me ages ago. Dirty paint palettes lay stacked next to a clear mason jar filled with brushes of different varieties and my paints.
I longingly rummage through it with this odd emotion running through my chest – something along the lines of fear that I can't truly describe.
I finally look over to Harry attempting to read my reaction with his dark eyebrows knit together.
"You went back to my place for this?" I softly ask, and he nods subtly under the sun.
I stare down at the miscellaneous items in the box in a sense of absolute longing. "What am I supposed to–" I begin without even glancing over at him.
"Hey, baby, you're getting too lost in that head of yours about it," he nudges me along.
I glance over at him as if he could hold more answers to questions that I know only I have the solutions to.
He gently smiles at me, "We're in the middle of nowhere, you're safe here with me ... and if you don't want to then we can just layout before we have to go back," he advises me.
I simply blink as I think on it, knowing his words were true enough.
I bite the inside of my cheek nervously, and softly exhale to deflate my back under the warm sun.
And this wind graces over me, blowing through my hair just as an orange monarch flutters by across the overgrown grass and wildflowers. I softly smile to myself as my gut twists with this overwhelming sensation flooding my chest, almost as if I could feel the invisible embrace around me in mystical reassurance from some kind of angel above.
Like a fresh breath of air, the world in front of me tempts me like a tether pulling me towards its beacon home.
I flicked my eyes over to him again, regarding his head tilted slightly with those curls slipping over his forehead as he assesses my body language.
My chest swells, and a small grin breaks free to grant another on his face. "You'll do it?" He whispers as his pink lips curl up, and I softly nod almost in disbelief.
I set the blank, blindingly white canvas down beside me, and begin to dig out the items in a setup that comes back to me like muscle memory. He fills up the mason jar with water from the mysterious picnic basket, and I hum in curiosity as I stare down at the opportunity in front of me.
"What else do you need?" He asks while setting the jar down next to me with crystal clear water.
And my lips twitch up while I stare at my very own piece of art, "Be my muse?" I request.
His eyes sparkle up at my words, and his bunny-toothed grin paints across his beautiful face draped in warm sunlight. "Yeah?" He murmurs to me, and I softly laugh as the possibilities seem endless in front of me.
"Need me to like take my shirt off or something–" he starts being cheekily himself, and I shove his head with a laugh.
"No," I snicker as he settles himself closer to my setup onto his side to prop up on his elbow. "Just keep sitting pretty for me," I tell him – feeding his ego.
"Just for you," he mumbles as he intently watches me unpack all my things.
I laugh under my breath at his childlike nature, observing the novel concept all unfold before him.
I flicked my eyes up to him and analyze every part of him for my piece to scream itself out to me. His jade eyes flash up to mine and illuminate under the blinding sunlight.
He snorts at me in confusion – and it hits me as I immerse myself into those saturated green eyes below the sunny skies.
"What?" He murmurs in obvious confusion, unable to see the outpouring abundance of thoughts racing through my mind.
I begin to pull the green paints out with the whites and grays. And it all comes flooding back to me like some kind of narcotic relief to my system, and I tie my hair back into its low, effortless braid like before.
Pieces of my hair slip from the braid to dangle over my face as I stare down, and begin to smear out globs of green across the canvas that's seen a lot more of this dream world before this.
It's like it welcomed me back home.
"You can't just smirk like that and not say anything," he scoffs at me, and I smile as I shuffle down to lay on my stomach comfortably.
"It's a surprise," I mumble and take up an old sketch pencil into my hand. I stare down at the sheer blankness in front of me, and focus myself on it as I always did.
I bring the lead to the textured canvas and lightly trace out the thoughts swarming through my head as they coincide with my emotions.
I toss the pencil onto the pink gingham blanket and take up a wooden brush into my hand. My heart swells with flutters as I glance over, dipping the clean brush through my pristine emerald to hover it over the canvas.
I take a soft breath, knotting my gut at the nostalgic moments I have with just this brush and canvas below me. And the second I gently glide the brush down the cloth, it's like this drug through my system releasing with a soft exhale.
The simple action stings my eyes while it engulfs my body, inundating me with this overflow of warmth – it didn't hurt. I trace out the outline with the dark shade, only just beginning the process.
"How'd you find this place?" I invite Harry to distract me, and flicker my eyes up to find something along the lines of pride sparkling in those nostalgic emerald irises.
"What?" I softly laugh with a beaming smile breaking out across my cheeks, and his dimple pops out on his cheek while he grins at me.
He softly shakes his head, "Nothing," he murmurs to me.
"I don't know ... when I first moved here, I drove around trying to find a good place to see the stars," he admits.
I softly hum as I lighten the hue of dark green, and layer it onto the canvas like second nature. "It's not the best, but it's quiet out here," he whispers.
I glance up at him through my lashes and find his gold cross shimmering under the sun as it dangles from his neck.
He stares down at my work in awe, "What if you fuck up?" He curiously asks, and my lips tighten in a closed-lip grin.
"Well, there are no fuck ups in art, it's all unique in its own way," I tell him, and he hums softly at the depth of my words.
"That's supposed to be me?" He snickers as he stares down at my work, incessantly asking questions to make me softly laugh under my breath.
The silhouette of the curved figure rests on the canvas, and I sarcastically send him a glare. "Sure," I bluntly mutter, and I smile at him.
"C'mere," I whisper in accompaniment with the melody of nature around us.
His dark eyebrow quirks up in curiosity, and my lips curl up as I nod at him. He shuffles closer, and I hum as I lean into him to cancel the space out between us.
"Hi," He chuckles under his breath before I cut him off to seal my lips to his.
He caves, and falls to lay back on the blanket to detach our lips from the ease of the act. His eyes sparkle up at me perfectly, just as I want to perceive them.
"Don't move," I murmur, gently leaning down to peck the tip of his nose to watch it scrunch up under my affection.
My cheeks ache from the smile on my face as I weave my left-hand fingers into his curls to toy with them as I begin mixing paints.
I swirl the thick shades of emerald and white to create a pastel and continue to glance back for reference to find him staring up at me. "What the hell are you doing?" He adorably laughs and grants a foreign giggle through my chest as I add a dot of yellow into the mix.
I swirl the hues to reveal a singular shade and smile to myself as I bring the brush up to his pretty face.
"I need to get the shade right," I mumble as I bring the paintbrush to his defined cheekbone. I swipe the color over his cheekbone, swatching it to ensure it was him in all his entirety. His face slightly scrunches up at the cool paint on his skin as he snickers at me.
Those jade eyes blink up at me in my favorite shade. "God, you're fucking killing me, Rory," he whispers up to me.
My insides do somersaults while my heart skips a beat in my chest at the utter tone in his voice.
The shade seems off, and I add a bit of blue and the tiniest bit of gray to the mix. I swatch the next shade under the previous streak across his olive skin.
I curiously hum while staring down at it, glancing between the hues in his irises and the paint shade.
He simply blinks up at me as my fingers run through his soft curls, and those eyes shimmer in something I couldn't possibly read through. I adjust a few more things and swatch once more to find the shade I glide over the other two attempts to be spot on.
I smile to myself in success and begin to recreate more of the shade. I focus my attention back on the canvas at hand and glide my brush over the textured canvas to fall into the therapeutic habit again.
I let my mind immerse into the world I feel truly safe in – every brush stroked with every hue of green felt like Harry.
The sun seared against my back, and he delicately traced shapes into my forearm as I toy with his soft hair threaded between my fingers.
I glance over at the movement of his out of the corner of my eye. I watch him fish out another white stick from his red Marlboro pack to stick between those silky smooth pink lips. The action comes too naturally to him as he cups the end, rolling the spark wheel to light up.
The usual cough of his puffs out the first drag into the wind, and he relaxes with a deep exhale. He notices my stare finally, and his lips twitch up as he notices my own subtle addiction crying out for a drag myself.
But the fucker only sticks the cigarette between those lips again, and hollows out his razor-sharp cheeks to suck in a fresh drag. "Ass–" I scoff at him, but those lips twitch up into a smirk as he rolls over to take my jaw in his hand.
He closes out the space between us, and my lips part involuntarily under the warm sun on my back. His lips ghost over mine, and he softly releases the pent-up tobacco smoke. I deeply hum as it dances across my tongue, and the second-hand smoke thickly rolls down my throat to fill my lungs.
"What were you saying, babe?" He muses instead.
I chuckle softly, and he teasingly kisses me to pull back with a light smack of our lips.
I shake my head at him, blowing out the smoke into the breeze. "You underestimate me," He sticks that cigarette back between his lips with that dimple in his cheek.
He lays back down, taking periodic drags of the burning white stick between his glittering ring-clad fingers. I softly smile to myself, idiotically, and focus back on the painting awaiting me.
The loose strap of my dress slips to fall from my shoulder without a care in the world. I layer the shades, carving out a silhouette of abstract thoughts weighing down on my mind.
Switching out different bristled brushes, I release it across the once white canvas in a plethora of hues of green.
And time seems infinite at this moment with every planned stroke of my brush, layering the monochrome piece to its purpose – and I've never felt more at home.
My eyebrows knit together as my lip pouts in concentration with a strand of my hair falling over my eyes.
Harry reaches over, and I'm so lost in the piece in front of me that I hardly notice. He slips the dangling piece between his fingers to tuck back behind my ear, and I can practically sense his eyes tracing every bit of me while he lays out.
The silhouette pops out amongst the layers of the shades strategically, and her body curves delicately in a soft work of divine femininity. Yet, the hardest part rests in front of me as her solemn face is off.
I stare down at it for a moment, biting the inside of my cheek while dwelling on the past few days. Before I let the lingering thought of their hands on me, attempting to grab me in my sleep, I messily stroke out a chaotic jumble in representation.
I paint the sides of the canvas, blending out the shades to spread across the entirety of the canvas in front of me. And finally engrave the initials of mine into the bottom corner of the piece with this rush pumping through my heart.
I press the end of the wooden brush into my bottom lip, staring down at it in full.
And my shoulders deflate at the thought of finishing a piece again, at the smudges of paint across my hands, and at the vibrant colors shimmering as they dry under the hot sun.
I swallow thickly, tossing the brush into the murky green water that was once clear.
I glimpse over to find Harry with his eyes gently shut to the soft touch of my left hand incessantly running through his hair.
My lips twitch up at the dried green shades across his cheekbone, and the tickle of pink sunburn over the bridge of his nose. He breathes softly in his light sleep under the sun.
I gently grasp his curls, too hot to touch from the sun, and I lean down to connect my mouth to the hinge of his sharp jaw. He stirs awake with a soft inhale beneath me as I pursue my lips down his jawline, and a deep-seated hum reverbs from his chest.
I press my lips to the corner of his mouth, and he reciprocates the lovin' in delirium. I smile into his lips, capturing his bottom lips between mine in full under the spring sun and the world around us.
Our lips mold together in this kind of dance that's become ours, and ours alone. I softly hum as I peck his lips, and drawback before I get too carried away in everything about him.
He blinks his tired eyes back up to me, and I smile down at him fade back to this reality. "You finished?" He whispers up to me with light gravel in his voice from the nap.
I hide my proud smile with a bite to the inside of my cheek, and his eyes twinkle that very special color up to me. He lifts up to his elbows with a soft inhale, and I drawback to watching him staring down at the piece drying under the sun's golden rays.
Because that's how it feels right now – I feel completely exposed in this crumbling world founded in my head.
I can only stare at him, waiting for a response to the piece. His eyebrows knit together, and my stomach slightly twists as he takes far too long to answer.
"It's been awhile–" I begin to justify myself, and he cuts me off.
"I am so obsessed with you, baby," he whispers and takes me off guard as he crashes his lips to mine.
I shriek as I tip back, rolling onto my back beside the painting setup while he half-lays on top of me. "Harry," I chuckle into his feverish kiss, and he hums softly as doesn't halt the tender attack.
I slide my hands to the sides of his head, threading my fingers back into his silk curls to tug him back.
He beams down at me and shakes his head softly with those curls at the top of his head. "So beautiful," he whispers with any and all attention focused on me.
I swear I stopped breathing at this moment, and a hot flush rises to my cheeks as I blink up at him.
And I admire every bit of him, every bit of his art above me. This godly face of his hung so high in my own art gallery.
I hide my foolish smile with my teeth sunken into my bottom lip, and I graze my thumb over the dried paint on his razor-sharp cheekbone like my very own brand on him.
"All mine," I mumble in pride, and he scrunches his nose up to hide his own stupid grin.
"That's right, baby," he pecks the tip of my nose. I snicker as my eyes pinch shut for a moment to brace the affection.
He hums softly, glancing over to grab something beside us. I regard him take up a tiny brush and dip it into the leftovers of that very shade I match to his eyes.
Focusing his concentrated attention on me with that childish smirk on his sunburnt face, he brings the brush to my cheek to smile to himself.
He glides the cool paint down my own sunburn, and I blow out a laugh as he shuts me up with a kiss on my cheek. "That's mine," He whispers to halt all thoughts in my head again.
And he leans down, pecking my lips as I capture his just as swift as the bliss came. "Definitely mine," he whispers against my lips to draw a soft laugh from my chest.
He tears back the momentary bliss, and my heart thunders for him. He stupidly grins as he shuffles lower, and brings his mouth between the junction of my collarbones. I softly sigh in airy bliss while arching into his tender touch, and he hums against my burning skin.
I glance down to the perception of his fingers tugging my loose dress down, revealing more of my bare chest. I laugh – utterly, and authentically raw for him only as he paints over one of my tits.
And when I glance down, I only realize that the motherfucker's signing his small initials – HS – in pastel green across my cleavage skin. "Harry–" I bluntly snort at him, and he kisses beside the fresh paint.
"Hm?" He innocently hums, unable to give me an answer before continuing. "Both of these are mine actually," he mumbles as he playfully tugs the other strap of my dress down to draw a laughing shriek out of me.
"It's just us out here, baby, you think I'd share this with anyone?" He mumbles while finishing off the S in his initial.
The blazing sun warms my exposed skin. He kisses beside my bare pierced nipple, glancing up through his dark chestnut lashes whilst doing so to spark hot life to my body.
I snort as he guides himself lower down my navel, and a fit of laughter escapes my lungs when he lifts my lower back from the soft blanketed ground to curl into his chest. His fingers curl around the bottom of my dress, half off of me practically.
He arrogantly hums to himself when he reveals the delicate off-white lace on my hips. He leans down to place a kiss over my prominent hipbone and paints out his three initials onto the side of my ass cheek – HES.
"E?" I murmur in inquisitive confusion, and he chuckles through his nose while he flickers his jade eyes up through his dark lashes to me.
"It's Edward," he mumbles under his breath.
I stare down at him for a moment and then instantly lose it in a fit of laugher with my forehead pressed against his collarbone. "Harry Edward Styles?" I question, and he nods as he shakes his head to perfect the paint on my skin.
"As if yours is any better?" He offers, and I smugly hum at him.
"It is, it's Elizabeth," I tell him mine and nearly every girl's middle name in the country.
He snorts at me, "Aurora Elizabeth Astor?" He sounds out my full name like a honey-coated dream falling off his tongue.
"Please, it's better than yours," my smile aches on my cheeks as he perfects the paint on my skin.
I stupidly laugh at him take his time painting over the stretch marks etched into my skin, and he sponges another kiss to my exposed skin. "This one required my full name," he amusingly gropes the flesh. I swat at his hand to draw foreign laughter from both of our chests.
"So he's an ass guy?" I match the amusement with a quirk of my eyebrow down to him, and he wicked grins as I roll down back onto my lower back. He ruches up the bottom of my dress, exposing my panties and my navel to the sun.
"Don't fucking make me choose" he exasperatedly murmurs while kissing my lower stomach to tickle across my warm skin with a flash of some kind of foreign sensation through my heart.
He childishly signs out his two initials again a few inches below my belly button.
I hum softly as he paves a trail of kisses up my midline, drawing more and more novel laughter easing my body under his to cover up my exposed skin.
Until his lips find sanctuary against mine again, and I hum as I drawback to peep up at him. His fingertips toy with my pieces of fallen face-framing hair, stroking it from my face.
I slip the brush from his fingertips, reaching over to dip it into a bit of the pastel green before gripping his jaw with my other hand. I tilt his head slightly to puff a laugh from his lips, and I smile as I outline my three initials into his cheek – AEA.
"That's a little better," I murmur with an expeditious kiss to his cheek, tossing the bristled end of the brush into murky paint water. I roll my head back onto the blanket and catch those emerald eyes gazing down at me.
He simply stares as I regard the sunlit halo above his head like my very own angel.
I gently graze the bruises in dismay, and he notices it before it consumes me. "Don't worry about it," he whispers as he delicately traces my cheekbone with his fingertip.
"Harry?" I murmur, despite him quite literally being at my side.
He chuckles softly under his breath, nodding down at me with an infamous smirk. "Hm?" He hums, and I huff at the lingering thought in my head.
"I can't keep staying at your place. I need to go back, and I still pay rent ... plus, my stuff–" I begin to ramble to him as I toy with his gold cross between my fingertips.
"Ace," he captures my attention firmly, and I meet his burning green gaze down on me. "We're taking care of it ... Ni and I are gonna go get the rest of your things from there," He tells me.
My lips part to rebuttal him doing so much for me, but he halts my words before they can even make themselves known to the universe. "We're taking care of it," he whispers while bringing those cherry-stained lips down to my temple again in reassurance.
"And I don't mind the company," he playfully murmurs.
I blow out a laugh to lean into him again with my head fitting perfectly into the crescent arch of his neck.
I softly exhale under him, and he hums. "How do you feel?" He surprisingly asks me, and there was no weight-bearing down opening up to him.
"Better," I admit, and he fails miserably to hide his prideful smirk.
"Good," he leans down to kiss my temple, "I've missed you." He whispers into my skin.
I hook my arms around his neck to roll him over onto his back. I nuzzle my head into his neck as he loops his arms around me, accepting the embrace with a sigh as I half-lay on him.
His one arm remains tightly locked around my waist, and the other smoothes up the back of my thigh. "And the painting?" He questions, and my eyes sting at the accomplishment with a flicker of pride brewing within myself.
"Thank you," is all I can say to him as he mindlessly guides the straps of my dress back up, even as I stay pressed to him.
After a few moments in the windy city's gentle breeze dancing across our spread-out bodies, I lift my head to watch his eyes drag down to me. My lips curve upward into a smirk of mine, hugging my cheeks too tightly with this novel, pulsing warmth centered in my chest. And his eyebrows bunch into confusion with that deep crease between them.
"What kind of snacks did you bring?" I hum, and his pink lips finally twitch up as he chuckles softly.
He rolls into me, squishing me beneath him to extract a raw laugh out of me again, to reach over to the picnic basket.
"You're in luck, love, because we have many options," he muses, and I playfully hum with a quirk of my eyebrow to go along with it.
I smile to myself as I stare up at him rummaging through the basket, zoning out the various snacks he's naming out for me. Completely captivated by what the universe has given me – undeservingly.
Because without him, I wouldn't have done it alone.
I wouldn't even dare touch my things again, out of fear that the guilt would consume me in a terrible wildfire. But the soothing breeze, the sun bronzing my skin, and the smell of grass filling my nose – it's nothing but serenity.
He's everything clear about my mind at this moment, and I know damn well that I'm beyond fucked.
—-
disclaimer: i do not take credit for the painting!
hoped you enjoyed this just as much as i did.
i love you so so much,
h.