Achilles Heel |h.s|

24. Astar - Monaco Heist

London, England. 13:05.

T minus four hours until the start of the heist.

A soft sigh falls from my lips as I swipe a nude coloured lipstick over my lips, ditching the iconic red that I have worn for the past month. I have decided that it doesn't quite match the gold Ralph Lauren dress that is currently clinging to my body as if it's made of saran wrap. It spans around me in a small train, hiding the gold heels that I slip onto my feet. My toes match my fingers, which are painted a light white colour with the pointer finger being black with little white devil horns.

Harry's nails are the exact same way except the colours are switched. His are black with the pointer finger being white with black devil horns. That's something we have been doing, matching without saying much about it. Communication seems to be something we lack, which is fine. We can talk freely about some of the things that have happened to us, but when it comes to the present we both seem to ignore the topics that are right in front of us.

I run my fingers through my hair slowly, collecting it all behind me before I tie it into a tight ponytail, making sure to spray on some hairspray that won't turn white overtime or leave any weird residue to tame the baby hairs or flyaways. I have yet to see Harry's suit. When he saw the dress that I picked up, his face lit up as if he was a kid in a candy store and he disappeared that day for more than six hours. I have since learned not to question where he disappears off to.

My hands shake slightly as I apply some blush to the apples of my cheeks, making sure it's light as I apply some highlighter above it. I can't help but feel nervous. There's a bad feeling settling into the pit of my stomach and it won't disperse like it usually does. There's no backing out of this now though. There isn't enough time.

The show must go on.

I move to grab my phone that is still connected to the charger, lightly tapping the screen so that it comes to life so that I can check the time.

13:46.

We have to leave around 16:30 as the auction starts at 17:00 on the dot. I know we don't have to drive anywhere considering the auction is right inside the hotel that we are staying at. It isn't more than a ten-minute walk down to the grand hall, however, we're going in one by one so as to not raise suspicion.

Except for Harry and I. We're entering as a couple, attached at the hip.

I gently place my phone back down onto the dresser, turning around and pulling my ponytail to the side as I get a glimpse of my back and the snakehead that splits near my neck. The tattoo goes down the length of my spine but up near my neck, there's a medusa head, little sakes erupting from either side with a long one cascading towards where my back dimples are. The snake has two heads, splitting around Medusa's head near my neck to encompass her.

My backpiece is one of my favourites.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open is what distracts me, slowly turning in place to see Harry walking out of the bathroom. I can't control the way my jaw drops open a bit, my eyes slowly raking over Harry's body to take in the suit that he's wearing. It matches my dress perfectly which was something we hadn't discussed. I had assumed he would just wear a plain black suit, but no. There's a woman on Harry's suit embroidered in gold, but not just any woman.

From a distance, it looks like Medusa but instead of snakes, there are roses coming from her head, making her appear even more beautiful if that's possible.

I wonder if he even knows that he's matching with me in more ways than one.

"Is that custom?" It's a rhetorical question. It doesn't need an answer because realistically I can tell that it's custom, but I want to hear it from his lips. This is what he wanted. He made this conscious decision to match with me in more ways than one even if it was unknowingly, which I doubt.