Interlude [h.s]

seventy

Alouette stills. The look on Harry's face is unreadable, and she can't tell if he saw everything from the window, or not. She isn't even sure they could be seen from that window. Would Harry tell her if that was the case? She doesn't know.

A heavy moment passes, and then she clears her throat. "I got everything," she states, leaving his jacket on the couch and putting the eggs on the table.

Harry doesn't move, and suddenly she has the absolute certainty that he knows, and that she's unknowingly just failed some kind of test. "Who is he?" he asks. His voice is so calm that a shiver goes down her spine. It's the kind of quietude that lets her know that, deep down, he isn't calm at all. The same tone she's heard him use time and time again—and each time, someone paid for whatever it was that angered him.

Briefly, she thinks about lying. But she knows him and he knows her, if she lies, he will know. Maybe he'll let it go, allow her to tell him a lie with no consequences, but he won't forget. She can't risk shattering their newly-created trust. "Bird tattoo," she only lets out.

His eyebrows raise in a flash of cold recognition, as if he's just found the missing piece that would make it all make sense. "Oh." Alouette doesn't like that sound. It feels like trouble, though of a different kind from what she originally thought.

Oh, it seems to say. The person that chose a design for you to tattoo on your ribs.
Oh. The one that picked that little bird, because that's what you are to him as well.
Oh. That friend you've talked about back at the Palace, the one you were missing that night.
Oh. The one that it makes sense for you to kiss.

She wants to say that it isn't true, that he has it all wrong, because it does not make sense for her to kiss Elijah. She shouldn't be kissing him, this isn't how it's supposed to go between them. He's only a friend, and not of the kind that will become something more eventually. This isn't expected nor okay. It shouldn't be happening, and it hurts to know Harry's seeing it as a normal turn of events. It isn't.

"Did you miss him?" he asks after a moment. The indifference has fled from his eyes, now, leaving them cold. He still hasn't moved from the window.

Yes, Alouette thinks, but not in the way you think. But she can't say it, because she knows that if a yes leaves her lips, she'll ruin everything there is between them, and she doesn't want to do that. At the same time, if she says no it'll be a lie, and he'll write his own truth for her. She can't allow that to happen. So she says nothing at all.

Harry takes a step towards her. "Did you hope he'd find you?" One more step, he's now in front of her. With one more, he's just by her side. His scent hits her nose, a mixture of her own. His tone drops. "Tell me, did your heart beat fast fast when he called your name?"

She shivers at the sarcasm in his voice. It's sharp enough to cut slices through her.

"Does he know I kissed your mouth less than an hour ago?" He doesn't touch her, there's a thousand miles and no space at all between them at the same time. A cold laugh leaves his lips. "Forget it, I don't care."

Alouette grabs Harry's wrist as he brushes past her. He spins towards her, his eyes are burning. "Yes, he kissed me," she says shortly. "But I didn't like it. You know why?" She forces herself to keep her gaze trained on him. The silence is heavy. "Because he wasn't you."

His lips crash against hers. She lets out a gasp and pulls him closer, her fingers run through his hair as he pushes her backwards. The back of her thighs hits the table, but she doesn't care. His tongue delves into her mouth and her head is spinning, she's struggling to keep her hold on reality, because a moment ago they were arguing and now they're not, and she can't tell when that second switched into another. This kiss feels intense and electrifying in a way that's completely new, and Alouette is struck by the realisation that they might not stop here.