Legendary // H.S

52.

'Rags to riches or so they say

Ya gotta keep pushin' for the fortune and fame'

*

The Cullinan diamond is heavy, that much is obvious. When we first stole it, I hadn't registered the weight of it in my pocket. Even after the rigorous hours of cleaning the blood from it's crevices the thought did not cross my mind. Perhaps it was the adrenaline of everything. However, now I've been brought back down to a sense of normality, holding it in my hands as I examine it and prepare to dislodge IX from it's setting, I can finally appreciate the weight of luxury.

Wealth can make even the sanest of humans lose their minds. It can cause you to do fickle things. But looking at this, watching the light bounce off the diamond, I finally understand why people choose to submit to the fortunes of indulgence and extravagance. It's unlike anything I've encountered before. Behind the glass of the exhibit, you get a quick glimpse at the magnificence of their diamonds, but in person is where the real show begins. A bright technicolour jumps from each facet as I turn it to reflect against the overhanging lamp. In this white light, justice is done to the sheer beauty of the stone. Every angle it is turned to a new display is presented. It reminds me of the northern lights, in a way. A once in a lifetime experience now in my hands.

It's powerful.

The warehouse is lively today. A barbeque has been set up outside to celebrate one of the crew's birthday, some music blaring through the building. The weather has picked up substantially over the weeks, summer now in full swing as the residents of the UK raid the outdoor spaces and soak up the sun. It hangs high in the sky today, its rays already stinging my skin just during the car journey here. It's true when they say that the sun increases endorphins and betters your mood. I'd almost entirely forgot how panicked I'd been lately when I awoke to the light creeping through the windows as Harry held me in his sleep. A moment of peace.

He's always like that when he rests, holding me as close to his body as he can in fear that I'll somehow slip away in my slumber. At first it made me uncomfortable, the both of us not used to being so intimate, but these days it's my favourite part of waking up. Every breath that leaves his lips tickles my back, his scent invades my nostrils, his touch is delicate on my skin. It drives me insane, even at the crack of dawn. I'm not sure how we found ourselves in such a situation, but we've both admitted we don't intend to fight it. I'll be honest, the moment he told me we should accept where this was going, I'd never felt more content.

It's not that we need a label for our relationship, because we both know what it is and what we mean to each other. But having our thoughts out in the open and reciprocated by each other has lifted a weight off my shoulders. Not enough to stop the constant pit in my stomach that one day he could change his mind and stop caring for me, but I suppose that's a worry I'll always have, regardless of who I'm with. Even if he does decide he's had enough of me, he'll never leave my thoughts. It's not possible to erase him from my life now.

This morning, when I came down for breakfast, he stopped cooking and just looked at me with a smile. No words were said, just a smile. Once we reached the car, again, that same curve to his plump lips was present. I asked him what was on his mind, and he responded saying I looked beautiful. He hadn't said that before. I had put a red polka dot tea dress on, nothing too flashy, but when the words left his lips I believed him. I believed that I was art, that I was music, that I was everything and more. No one has made me feel that way before. I don't want anyone other than Harry to tell me that I'm beautiful, because it will never compare to the butterflies that took flight in my stomach at that moment. Sometimes I wish I could see myself the way he does, but the constant affirmations are enough to make me feel like I'm worth something.