We get out of the water again after we both nearly died from choking on water because of laughing so much and Harry had to oat my back for about a minutes before I could properly breathe again.
“Dangerous out there”, Harry says, “Crocodiles that bite your leg and water to choke on.”
I roll my eyes but giggle and lay down on the blanket. He lays down next to me so that our upper arms touch.
I stare at his chest a little too long. I just can’t comprehend how someone could do that to him.
“He used to hit”, Harrys says, apparently having noticed my staring and I feel bad about it immediately. “With all kind of things. Sometimes he’d burn. With a cigarette. That’s where most of the scars are from.”
I don’t answer. I don’t know how. I just turn around so I’m facing him, laying on his back, staring up into the sky and wrap an arm around his waist.
“You’re safe with me.”
“I know.” He smiles. And it’s barely even sad. Maybe he’s healing. Maybe he actually feels that I’m protecting him.
I don’t know why I lift my finger and trace it over one of the scars. He winces once but then he relaxes under my touch and I keep tracing along the pits and scars on his soft but uneven skin.
I want to kiss his pain away.
Then when I’m done, I trail my finger along the wings of the butterflies. I’d like to fix them. I’d like to put a bandage around his scarred wings so that he can fly again.
I start with the left wing, going on to the second one and when I’m done, I place my hand on his tummy and let it rest there, feeling his body raise and sink, seeing the butterfly raise and sink, as if he was trying to lift of but just couldn’t. Maybe, if I’d trace along his wings one more time, he’d be able to take off and be free again?
“Have you ever thought about kissing me?”
I immediately yank my hand away and stare at Harry with wide eyes but he has his closed, as if he didn’t just ask me that question.
Why would he ask that? I stare at him until he opens his eyes.
“Have you?”, he insists, opening his eyes and his breath hitches a little.
I nod, a tight, small nod.
“Sometimes.”
All the fucking time.
It’s quite again and then I lower my head a little, so our lips are brushing together just once, before pulling away again.
It made my body jerk with electricity.
“Would you want me to kiss you?”, I ask.
Harry doesn’t answer but places his hand in my neck, pulling me down, just so far that our lips touch slightly again.
“Yeah”, he breathes and then my lips are on his.
My hand travels to his waist where I let it rest while I’m leaning on my other arm.
His hand that was in my neck before slowly moves up to my hair and he starts tangling his fingers up in my hair.
His left hand is somewhere on my back, travelling up and down and up and down my spine, sending shivers over my whole body.
His lips are perfect. They’re soft and careful, yet firm and strong and he keeps kissing me with such force as if he never wanted me to pull away again.
I think I melt. My arm starts shaking from having to keep me up and from being kissed like this, from being kissed by Harry, my Harry.
I’m a mess. My thoughts are running, I’ve never overthought kissing that much, but at the same time it’s perfect and I seem to exactly know what I have to do.
When I’m not strong enough to keep all my weight on my arm, he wraps his arm around my waist and halfway pulls me in top of him so that our chests are pressed together and my leg is right between his.
He’s everywhere. His hands are roaming over my body even after we stopped kissing because we’re both breathless, they’re pulling me in, closer, closer, closer. They’re running over my back and lingering on my tummy, cupping my jaw and his fingers are running over my lip.
“You’re perfect”, I whisper.
“I like you”, he replies.
“I like you too. A lot.”
And he’s kissing me again. He rolls us over so we’re laying right next to each other, both of our heads supported by our hands and he leans in once to peck my lips, does it again and again before I’m chuckling and he says: “This is a weird position to kiss in.”
It makes me laugh out loud and I nod.
And then we roll over again and he’s above me, his legs straddling me and he’s just staring at me.
And I’m staring at him. We’re not even doing anything, we’re not kissing and he’s not touching me, but this is the most intense feeling I’ve ever felt with anyone.
“You’re beautiful”, he says.
“You’re gorgeous.”
“I could drown in your eyes.”
“I want to wrap your curls around my fingers so tightly I can never remove my hands from your hair again.”
“I wish I could have a perfume that smells like you.”
“I think your lips are the most perfect lips I’ve ever seen.”
“I think you’re the loveliest person I’ve ever come across.”
“I never want to stop adoring you.”
“I want to kiss you again.”
“Then do.”
Harry doesn’t kiss like he talks. He’s still slow, but he’s confident. He knows what he’s doing or at least it leaves the impression he does.
Being kissed by him feels like dancing in the summer rain, like spinning around and around until you’re dizzy but happy and the warm rain is everywhere, gotten at every inch of your body.
“Lou”, he says, staring at me so deeply and fondly.
“Haz”, I reply, staring back and where did that nickname come from?
I could say so much more, tell him how beautiful he is and how I fell for him hard and how I want him to stay close, please, tell him that I need him to always be with me, that my happiness depends on it.
I’m afraid of saying it out loud so I try to put as much love as possible into out next kiss.
~~~
i mean this is chapter 28 so what did you expect?
YOU ARE READING
scarred wings (l.s.)
FanfictionLouis studies teaching at university. On his way there, he passes a homeless boy every morning. Harry has scars, they can't always be seen. Some are covered by the dark ink on his skin. Louis really likes Harry's butterfly tattoo.
