Ladybug [h.s.]

10*

Harry

~~~~~~~~

Inhaling, I move to stretch my arms, only to find one trapped in its place. Before I can open my eyes, the pictures flicking through my head cause an onslaught of static fuzz. Radio warble right before you reach the clear station. I take in another breath, warm, sweet vanilla filling in the spaces between thought.

Delilah.

She's curled into my chest, hair scattered between us and tickling at my collarbones. A cool breeze blows in through the window, unleashing a sea of goosebumps across my back. Delilah tucks in closer, flush to my chest and stomach, as if she's using my body as a shield from the chilly air circling the room. My eyes flicker open at her movement, taking in the scene before me. Taking in the filtered, hazy morning light, before the sun has risen over the trees and how it dapples yellow flecks of light across her body. Taking in the peaceful rise and fall of her back pressing into me and how it pushes the sheets up and down softly. Taking in the light remnants of goosebumps across her neck. Our bodies having reached out for one another at some point in the night. Tangled limbs finding warmth and shelter together.

One part of me argues in favor of rolling away. Of getting up, and closing the window, and returning to the corner of the mattress away from her sleeping form. Rolling onto my other side and pretending like I didn't wake up to this moment of sleepy, innate connection. The other part begs me to stay put. To breathe in the faded vanilla tinged with alcohol. To drop my arm over her stomach and soak up the warmth of her body pressed against mine. Closing my eyes to let her think she woke up first; to let her make the next decision. A tired war. Long stretches of battle from either side, only to end in a standstill. A draw. A tie.

Drag kneads into my calf like he's trying to push me to make more room for himself. Pushing me closer into Delilah. I bend my legs slightly, taking hers with me to give the cat space. Her breath catches on an inhale and I hold my own, waiting to see if she stirs. Thankfully, within seconds of the disruption, she evens back out to sleep. I let out my own exhale and dive back into the chaotic hurricane winds.

I'm not sure what my feelings are, at this point. Lingering irritation from the night before last, paired with firecracker defense from hours ago. But, she's Deli. She's always been Deli. No matter how much surface has changed, rocks eroded and trees cut down, she's still Deli. She's still Ladybug. Especially when she's fiery, and even more when she's sad. Emotional extremes that display her so well. The vulnerability opening a door straight to the deepest part of her.

She got hurt when I pretended to not know her; when I tried to shrug her off as another crazy broad. Genuinely hurt. And it felt like heated knives digging into my skin to be the cause of that; to make her sad. Hazel eyes dripping into melty chocolate. Alcohol opening up Pandora's box and tempting my own to unlock. Fitted key unleashing my secrets.

She got hurt, but so did I. Albeit, I hide mine better than a drunken Delilah. Maybe it's not hurt, but frustration. Frustration that things have to change. That we live in two worlds that diverged. Hard right and hard left. Intertwined orbits only to rush off on different trajectories. Frustration that I am lying here, one arm dead asleep, without a care in the world to fix it. Frustration that the sun is going to rise, and she's going to wake up, and we will split paths again. Frustration that everything's changed and that nothing's changed.

Because she's still Deli. And I still fold.

Another gust of wind blows through the window and she nuzzles into me, trying to bury herself under my skin. In the movement, her ass brushes against my crotch, my hips flexing forward slightly in response. A jolt of electricity spurring forward. A small noise leaks from her lips at the action and she presses back into me again subconsciously. I try my best to take a deep breath to control myself, but Delilah shifts again and I know I'm done for. Fold, fold, fold.