favorite crime [h.s]

fifty six

I didn't sleep at all for a few nights.

I was laying anxiously in bed with my sleepless eyes staring up at the ceiling. It could be that I don't want to be alone or because I've gotten so used to sleeping by Harry's side. I'm unsure.

I'm changing and I don't like it. I don't want to keep living this type of life, let alone knowing I'm involved. Involved in what? No one can give me an answer.

Becoming independent was one reason for moving to Philadelphia. Now I'm just dependent on another person for my own safety. I trust him when I'm afraid, and that's like the last thing I ever wanted to be. I don't want to be afraid, I never wanted to have to be afraid. It's so different now.

I'm doubtful of where my life is leading to. It's easy for Harry to say to live in the moment, but sometimes you just can't help but think about the future.

"These look sick," he smirks, examining his fingernails which I've just freshly painted in black. "They never look that clean when I do it myself."

"Maybe your hands aren't that steady," I assume, sitting on the bathroom floor in front of him.

"I don't hold a gun with shaky hands either," he points out.

"Oh sure."

"Don't be cranky."

"Sorry," I whisper quickly, realising my easy irritation.

He drops the topic, sensing the disharmony on my side of the conversation. This is in no way his fault, it's only me being sensitive because of my lack of sleep.

"You're quiet, baby." I notice his hand twitch like he wanted to touch me but noticed the fresh paint on his nails.

"I'm just tired," I admit, offering a lazy smile.

"Why?"

"I can't sleep, that's all." I tilt my head slightly, he doesn't buy it.

"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" he asks. I wouldn't want this to turn into another deep talk since I haven't been in the greatest mood lately.

"I'm fine, don't worry," I assure him.

He frowns like he doesn't buy my excuse at all. It's quite lame, I gotta admit.

He connects our lips in a calm and still kiss. My eyes flutter shut for this short moment, every inch of my body content. So content that I don't notice him pulling away, and I keep my eyes closed with a little smile upon my face.

His hand touches my waist but he's fast to pull it back again. He checks his nails to make sure he didn't mess them up. I hold back a genuine laugh.

"I start to regret this." He examines his hands, realising he can't hug me for a few minutes.

"Beauty is pain," I pout. "That's why we'll make dinner now." I stand up, causing him to tilt his head up in a strong angle to keep our eyes locked. "We can make out later."

He smiles and stands up too, towering over me with our height difference.

My home is smaller than Harry's, so the way from the bathroom to the kitchen is shorter. The curtains are closed and a warm lamp keeps the place lit with a dim light. I know exactly what to cook for dinner, I've been waiting to eat this with him.

"Did I ever tell you that I can see your nipples through the shirt," he teases. His shoulder is leaned against the doorway to the kitchen as he watches me since he's not useful right now.

"You just did."

I pour the noodles into a pot with boiling water, before I approach Harry. He's still leaning against the wall with his eyes anywhere but on my face. My fingers hook into his belt in order to force him closer, bringing him to tumble to me.