RUN AWAY || H.S

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟏

Harry's POV.

The early morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. The world outside was waking up, but inside, everything felt still, calm—perfect. My arms were securely wrapped around Alana, holding her close against me. Her body was warm and relaxed, her chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths.

I didn't want to move. This—right here—was everything. The weight of her head resting on my chest, her soft hair tickling my skin, the faint scent of her lavender shampoo lingering on the pillow. It made my heart clench with a mix of longing and peace.

God, I wanted this every day. To wake up next to her. To fall asleep with her in my arms. I wanted the right to pull her closer without hesitation, to kiss her whenever I felt like it, and to hold her without wondering if it meant too much.

Hell, I'd even give up my long hair if it meant I could have her forever. And that's saying something because I fucking loved my hair.

But today wasn't about hair or fleeting thoughts. Today was the day. No more second-guessing, no more chickening out. Today, I was going to tell her how I felt—everything.

Alana stirred slightly, breaking through my thoughts. She mumbled softly, a sleepy hum vibrating against my chest. Her eyelashes fluttered before she slowly opened her eyes, heavy with sleep.

"Mmm..." she breathed, blinking blearily up at me.

"Morning, baby bug," I murmured, my lips brushing the crown of her head.

She groaned softly and burrowed deeper against me, her breath warm against the curve of my neck. "Too early," she whined. "I don't wanna get up yet."

My lips curved into a lazy smile. "Let's sleep the entire day," I teased, my fingers brushing soothing circles against her back.

She let out a soft sigh. "We can't. We have work," she mumbled, her voice muffled against my skin.

"Mhmm... Let's call in sick," I countered, nuzzling into her hair.

She giggled lightly, her sleepy eyes sparkling for a brief moment. "No, Harry. We can't."

God, her laugh. It did something to me every time.

She pulled back slightly and rested her head on the pillow, her hair falling in messy waves around her face. The morning light caught the subtle golden strands, making her look ethereal. My eyes traced her delicate features—the curve of her cheek, the faint smudge of sleep still in her eyes, the natural pink of her lips.

Without thinking, I moved closer, our faces only inches apart. I brushed my nose softly against hers, my heart picking up its pace. She blinked slowly, her breath hitching. Her eyes were wide, searching mine.

"Harry?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Hmm?" I hummed softly, my gaze flickering between her eyes and her lips.

"What are you doing?"

Her lips parted slightly, her breath mingling with mine. The space between us felt smaller, electric, pulling us in. My voice was barely audible when I whispered, "This."

Before she could react, I closed the distance, gently capturing her lips with mine.

The second her lips touched mine, something inside me shifted. The warmth of her mouth sent a shiver through me, and I instantly knew—this was it. This was everything I had wanted, everything I'd been holding back.

She gasped softly, but she didn't pull away. Her lips were impossibly soft against mine, slow and hesitant at first, but gradually melting into the kiss. It wasn't desperate or rushed—it was delicate, reverent, and slow, as if time had stretched just for us.