(we're a) Fine Line {HS}

XXXV - Proof

"I'd never seen you dance like that." Harry says with amusement in his voice as we get out of his car and walk towards the front door of his house, later that night.

"Oh, you should've seen me at your concert." I claim in reply, shrugging a slight bit and smiling to myself as the previous events still wander fresh in my mind.

"But I did." He replies back and I smile at him. Of course he did, otherwise I wouldn't be here in this exact moment. But that was not what I meant. I try to let go of the incomprehension our small conversation ends up being and don't say anything as he reaches the door. But he still talks while opening it "Way before I heard you." He leaves me to stand at the door, frowning at his words.

"What do you mean?" He doesn't stop to look back, seeming to be well determined to do something in specific inside the house. I start to walk, fearing his answer would be inaudible to me.

"I noticed you way before you think I did." He starts, reaching a cabinet somewhere still in the living room and doing something inside it I can't see. I reach the couch, meanwhile, after closing the door behind me, and sit turned around to watch him, resting my arms on the back of the couch and my head on them.

"Almost from the beginning of the show I had my eyes on you." I stop my action of taking off my shoes as I take in those words. Then I do it very slowly and remain to watch him in silence, not knowing what else to say besides "Why?".

"I don't know either. There was just... something about you that made me wanna reach for you, I think.. And when I heard you sing, not only I was amazed by it, I took it as my cue to do so." He answers and my heart beats a little bit stronger as I go back in time and imagine that happening. Harry noticing me specifically, out of all those people that were there just like me, dismissing each other's existence, would seem impossible to even think about. And yet he just told me he did and left me to wonder many things.

He seems to find whatever he was looking for and places a big square shaped kind of poster on top of the furniture to then take a suitcase from the same place, placing it next to the other object. He immediately opens it and I find myself staring at a turntable inside of it. I look up to his side profile looking down to his careful movements of taking the vinyl out and placing it.

Soon, what seems to be some kind of blues ballad is heard, invades our senses and thoughts and, once again, nothing else outside this bubble matters. Harry turns around and our eyes fix on one another as he walks towards me from behind the couch. I raise myself just as he gets close, kneeling on the couch against its back and letting him hold my head to kiss me lightly.

But I'm eventually not able to contain a smile and our kiss is broken for some moments while he does the same, not moving away the slightest bit, and we smile against each other. Then I raise myself even more, now standing on top of the couch and getting to be taller than him. We exchange our previous positions and I feel the rough touch of his beard that gets bigger again on the palm of my hands. Only this time the kiss is broken when he wraps my waist stronger than usual and raises me up, out of the couch and to the ground where he stands. I let out a surprised sound as he does and then look at his face with an equally surprised expression, not having expected him to be able to handle my weight.

But I quickly let it go when he pecks my cheek and leaves his face gently pressed against mine like that and we swing softly at the rhythm of the slow drums, along with the jamming of the electric guitar. I close my eyes slowly and wrap my arms around his neck more properly, while he holds my waist close to himself.

"Prove to me this isn't a dream." I sigh some minutes after, as I recall our previous conversation. And I don't refer only to this moment, but everything that has been going on ever since we met. Since he called me on stage, since I came to LA to work with him... since we got together. And also the events that aren't so good. I've been struggling more and more to find all of that true. 

Everytime I find myself in his arms and him in mine, I also find myself thinking that this is all too good to be true, to not be a silly dream I'm having, and wonder why I don't wake up already. Although that's my biggest fear; waking up to find that perhaps I didn't even went to his concert, in the first place. That's why I need him, while he's right here, to put all those fears in discard and promise me he will never go away from me in any way.

"I think you'd have woken up by now, if it was a dream." He says, a hint of confusion in the way he giggles. I don't reply to him, the more his words make sense, contrary to mine, I still wait for him to do something about it. Only after moments in silence he sighs and then shifts one of his hands to my head, straightening his back and making me rest my ear on his chest.

"Listen closely." He refers to his heart and I open my eyes, not daring to possibly fool myself, and focus on its beat and its regularity.

"Feel me." He adds lowly and, slowly, I shift my arms to hold his torso strongly and feel his shirt twisting at my touch and his little movements of not stopping our dance, underneath it. He remains to hold my shoulders and I take advantage of that to breathe against his arm. I feel the lack of air still enough for me to survive, and his scent becoming almost all of it.

"Have you ever heard this song?" He then asks gently and I answer negatively. "Then pay attention to it too and tell me if you think your brain would be capable of creating something like it while sleeping."

I spend almost a minute taking conscience of every note change, and hear all the instruments either together as a whole or focusing on every one of them separately. "I don't think it would." I say carefully, wanting to believe so more than anything else, and he hums in acknowledgement. We keep moving and slowly turning to one side and the other in the middle of the living room, at the sound of a complex, but very calm, blues jam.

"Look at me." He soon says, making a move to put a small distance between us as we face each other, stopping us in place. He smiles at me, already predicting I'd do the same to him.

"I'm sorry. This is so silly of me.." I say quietly, looking into his eyes at first, but then lowering them as I add "I just fear that--"

"Do you trust me?" He interrupts. I look up at his face again, taking in his question first and then nodding surely, not having any doubt about that. "Then trust yourself too, for God's sake." He adds softly, but changing the tone of his voice to one almost impatient, and shifts his hands to hold on my jaw, our eyes burning into each other.

"I'm sorry..." I mumble, and he immediately shakes his head "I don't want you to be sorry. Just take into consideration that I truly love you... and not just because I'm only something in your head."

His words take me a little bit by surprise, but thinking about it, maybe he has a point. Maybe the problem is my insecurities, after all. And since I struggle to understand how I have all of this when I don't think I deserve it, I start to feel like I made it all up and, somehow, I'm living inside my head. It surely is something I want; all of this and all of him, so my instinct is to acknowledge it is not true.

But I suppose that doesn't make sense, or at least it stopped doing so from this moment on. Because, thankfully, Harry has the gift to make everything seem right just by looking me in the eyes, and make me see the right side, it being the truth, and that's one of the things I love in him. So I openly smile at him, taking everything in, grateful about it and trying to tell him I will do my best to do as he says.

"This would make a great song. Don't you think?" I say and his reaction is almost of relief as he holds me tight again, growling of amusement and I sense a smile in it, and gives us a final spin around as he leans to kiss me lightly again. I breathe out at it, as aware of reality as I had never been before.