Background Noise [HS]

THIRTY-TWO

Violet blinked awake in the early hours of the morning. The sun had not yet come to replace the moon, and the atmosphere was quiet. It took a few moments to register her surroundings, nonetheless her company. A strong, tattooed arm was set aside as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Harry shifted some, inconvenienced by her tearing away. His subconscious was displeased, brow furrowed in turning over and taking a spare pillow in his arms.

Unlikely to have slept but a few hours, Violet felt compelled to leave the bed and head down the hall. Door shut and the light switched on, she was stopped by her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was disheveled, cheeks tinted with pink. Memories from that night came rushing back in a montage of images, sensations, and sounds. An inkling of a smile graced her lips, though the recollection wrought a shiver throughout her body.

Her time spent in the bathroom was short-lived, though much needed in coming to terms with the change that had taken place seemingly overnight. Violet felt the shift in chemistry as she re-entered the bedroom, knew that when they woke up that morning, things would be different between them. This was as thrilling as it was terrifying, though she tried not to think about that too much as the bed dipped in acceptance of her weight.

There was comfort found in the broad expanse of back she wrapped her arms round, face nuzzling in the smooth space spanning between two shoulder blades. With one hand held to her chest, Violet fisted the sheets over Harry's front with the other. Though he lay still, the beat of his heart quickened beneath her touch.

He came to awareness slowly, grumbling a bit. An attempt to roll was halted by her hold on him tightening, pressing his back into her front. The muscles in his back went rigid, uncertain. "Violet?"

Her hand, light and delicate, slid between the sheets and over his skin. The warmth of her palm was meant to soothe, settling on the butterfly tattoo inked into the skin covering his ribs.

While Violet much enjoyed her current position, it was hard to protest Harry rolling over and taking her in his arms. There was no fighting the hands gently tugging her toward his chest, offering a resting place there in the flat between two swallow tattoos. This was incredibly intimate; perhaps more so than what transpired just hours before. This was intimacy without lust, driven only by feelings of love and the need for closeness.

This was something she'd never experienced before.

"Everything alright?"

Violet nodded, taking hold of the silver chain hanging off his neck in an attempt at grounding herself. Harry bowed to the pressure, pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, the rough of his palm pressing against her hair. "Go back to sleep, baby."

The jump of her heart — surely he could feel it.

"But I'm wide awake," she drawled, nuzzling into the warmth of his bare chest. The ends of her hair raised goosebumps along his skin.

Harry's mouth quirked upward. "You don't sound it."

"I am, I..."

"Am incapable of finishing a sentence." The duvet was readjusted over the both of them. Normally met with the cool metal of a silver pendant, Harry enjoyed the warmth radiating off the girl hard-pressed to his bare chest. He had never felt so bound to Violet as he did now, yet was compelled to draw her even closer at the thought.

The first day of the new year was particularly dreadful. Though comfort could be found in the raindrops pelting the window, a thick, heavy fog led the dawn. One that the sun could not penetrate, blanketing the town in a dreary, gray hue.

Violet thought it to be the early hours of the morning still as she breached consciousness for the second time. The air smelled of rain and cologne. She pushed deeper into her pillow, desperate for her senses to be overtaken by the latter. It was a good way to wake up – surrounded by something that stood for everything. Warmth, security, trust.