Muse [h.s.]

25. reminiscent

🎵Green Eyes — Coldplay

Ella's POV

"Oh, there's his car," Jax mumbles, lugging his and Lydia's suitcases behind him.

I fight back a yawn as we step onto the pavement, slowly inhaling the soft breeze.
Even the air smells different in New York; I've already gotten used to the faint smell of sea salt and the ocean air back in Miami.

Lydia is walking like a zombie beside me as she drags her feet against the sidewalk — groans and all.

She looks like something straight out of an apocalyptic movie, hair tangled and mascara smeared.

I shouldn't be talking; I probably look worse, with dark circles around my eyes because unlike her and Jax, I didn't catch a wink of sleep during the short flight.

It has to be around around 4 in the morning currently, and I'm beat — I'm more than beat, as a matter of fact.

We just arrived to LaGuardia Airport a little while ago. The flight from Florida was only about two hours, and despite us leaving a little after 1 a.m., and despite the early hour, I just couldn't get my mind to shut off.

All I could think of was Harry — the look on his face when I said I listened to the album, the look on his face when I told him there were things I had to tell him. His eyes had widened ever so slightly, his pink lips parted in disbelief.

All I could think about was the way he pressed his forehead against mine, his large hands cradling my face and the relief that his touch always seemed to bring me.

I never felt like I was missing something, not until Harry touched me — that's what I've been missing. I only feel whole again with his touch.

Throughout the entire flight, every time I shut my eyes, all I could see were Harry's emerald irises piercing through my eyelids.

They were the color of fresh moss, a color reminiscent of a blooming spring after a particularly harsh winter.

A green reminiscent of the summer that we fell in love — the green leaves of the trees in Central Park, the green vines tangled along the sides of his loft's rooftop, the green of the tall sunflower stems from the field in Long Island.

Even the murky green of the Hudson River, from that night that I drunkenly jumped in; though, that green could never be used in comparison to the green alight of Harry's eyes — nothing could ever do them justice.

It's hard to believe that was only last summer, the very beginning of Harry and I's story. All these little memories reside in this city that I've returned to and an achingly bittersweet feeling washes over me.

Never would I have thought we'd end up where we are now, despite all that we've been through.

Fate has a thing for you and I, Harry had said to me only a few hours earlier.

I almost regret deciding to come to New York with Lydia and Jax...what if I had just told Harry then and there?

What if he felt the same?

Would I have stayed with him instead, would I have gone with him to Georgia?

The idea sounds crazy, thinking about finishing up the rest of his tour here in the States by his side.

But, I've never been sane when it came to Harry; if he felt the same, I know I would have dropped everything to be with him.

It's almost scary just how much of an effect this one man has over me, an effect that he's always had over me.