(we're a) Fine Line {HS}

XLI - New York {Bonus}

Harry tries to open the door of our hotel room the best way he can, with me not being able to wait any longer to kiss him, once alone. As we step in, I don't let him go anywhere, gripping his shirt to softly push him against the door, as it closes after us, giving him no other chance than to surrender.

His breathing is strong, still seeming to have sequels from the show. He decided to end it with Falling, a song he never used to play that much at the concerts, claiming it has a whole new meaning for him ever since his time in jail. And silly me having thought I had no more tears to cry as he started getting emotional at it, too, himself.

I hope this was just a one time only, doing a more emotional show once it was as a new beginning, and he isn't thinking of putting his sentiments to test in every one we still have ahead. He would end up emotionally drained, and that can't be anything good, speaking of personal experience.

We're making out for a while, now, and I part from it as he doesn't seem to give anything more into it. I take a deep breath to calm my heart and face him, quickly giving myself the job of brushing his fringe falling on his eyes back.

"You wrote me a song." I claim pensive, deciding to address that subject for a first time, curious to know what he has to say about it.

"I did." He simply acknowledges with a soft smile.

"You didn't have to."

"But I still did."

We repeat, each of us with the same intonation as before. I wander his face with my eyes and press my lips together, while my hands rest on his neck and his on my waist.

"It's beautiful." I insist, really wanting to know what is on his mind.

"Of course it is; I wrote it and it's about you." He says with a sudden playfulness that I'm happy to see. I chuckle, as he does the same, to then simply stare at each other, neither of us knowing what to say, for some reason. But soon he shifts his gaze to something across the room and says "Come on." while pulling me by a hold of hands.

He leads us to the little kitchen to take a bottle of wine from a cabinet. "We should drink to it. And to everything else, too." He says as he opens it, easily pouring it into two glasses he had already taken out too. He must not be aware that I'm not a person to drink alcohol that much, or at least not used to it yet. But then I think, I would start doing it eventually, and it doesn't mean I would turn into an alcoholic. This looks like the perfect opportunity to give it a try. I'm free to dislike it, and it'll be fun either way.

So I take the glass he hands me, managing to hide my hesitation as the smell hits my nose right before I take big sips of it. I last some seconds tasting it and then conclude it's good. Not something I would drink too often, but for a once in a while it's totally acceptable. And I take more sips of it.

"You seem to like it." He observes, taking a sip of his own and I catch him glancing at me over the glass with somewhat challenging eyes.

"I wonder what's it like to get drunk." I shrug, shifting to study the dark liquid on my glass again, playing carefree.

"You're trying to get drunk?" He asks, surprised, as if he didn't understand what I'd first said. I glance at him again, a faint giggle on his expression, as if I'm not seeing what's there of so unexpected on what I said. So I reply "Oh yeah, we should totally get drunk."

Maybe the portion I took is already making some effect. I feel my cheeks getting warmer and about to lose my mind, for any reason.

"And then have sex." I add determinedly, taking another big sip of the wine to pretend I won't mind when he refuses it. I've been thinking about it before he even got out of stage, but he doesn't seem too much interested in such.