Sunflower Vol.6 [H.S]

forty four

"I'm dreaming about him again."
Marina Young's POV

-please just play me in 20 years by Moses Sumney on repeat for this whole chapter-

"Are you scared?" I whisper to him, the features of him in my point of view as we lay beside one another. My right hand is tucked under my pillow while the other palm cups my own cheek. Harry, across from me, mimics my pose, only his hand comes to my face to brush away hairs from time to time. When I ask him those three words, he lets them settle in the air, takes them in as it looks like his mind goes over what I ask of him. But soon he shakes his head.

"I don't think I am." He tells me and I do the same as he did. I try to understand before I respond back as well. "Are you?" Harry flips the words. "Are you scared?" He repeats. Only I nod.

"Yes." I answer him. "I'm terrified."

And he smiles. Not a sinister one, not a sad one. But a faint simper comes across his lips. He reaches out again, running fingers through my hair and then lets it fall to the left side of my face. Harry's thumb caresses my skin. "There was this girl once," He begins. "Who told me no matter where she was, she would find her way back to me." Harry states. "All because she believed she was my soulmate." He says and I feel a sad grin pull on one side of my face. "That she loved me."

"She sounds wise." I whisper back to him and he nods with a soft breath.

"She is." He agrees and then lets quietness become a factor in the conversation before he speaks again. "It's okay to be scared, Sunny." He says. "But if you're scared because of us ... There's no reason to be." Harry tells me.

"How are you so sure?"

"Because for once in my life I am sure about you." He says. "And I'm sure I love you."

Ding, ding, ding. The sound of the phone interrupts his voice, the warmth of the setting sun seeps through the thin curtains of my room which brings me to reality. It orders me to take a deep breath when I lay in anguish. Then makes me sit up to reach for my phone and shut off the alarm that has alerted me to wake up in the first place. It causes my eyes to read over the time that read 4:30 pm. So much for that dose of a relaxing nap. I skim over the numerous notifications of emails and a few texts before I close my phone and get up.

It causes me to initiate a stretch when I study my surroundings. I yawn quietly when I take strides toward the window, my index finger pushes aside the curtain which lets me look out into the busy streets of the city. I sigh softly when I let go and go to my mirror. My inner dialogue urges me to become more presentable before I have to leave. I yawn once more when I walk over to my phone, pressing shuffle on my March playlist. The first song starts to play through the speakers of my room when I shake my head, a slight smirk comes upon my lips. "Sneaky son of a bitch." I murmur to myself when the sound of the guitar begins. "Don't you call him baby."