𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒, james potter

49. moon is high like your friends

WARM LIPS ARE on her neck. Breath tickles her collarbone. She feels a sigh at the hollow of her throat.

A soft smile overtakes her face.

She tries to move, but the arms locked around her waist tighten their hold, not letting her go anywhere. Her eyes flutter open to find a head of jet-black hair underneath her chin.

A warm hand slips underneath her shirt—James's shirt which she pulled on last night—and his palm settles on her back. His finger draws circles into her skin as he traces her spine. She can't help the shiver that runs through her body at his touch.

He leans his head back up to look into her eyes with a fond expression.

"Good morning," he whispers, nudging the tip of his nose with hers.

The corners of her mouth tilt up. "Good morning, love."

He inhales sharply, closing his eyes as he drops his forehead to hers.

"I love it when you call me that."

His lips touch her cheek gently as he draws her in closer to his body.

Her smile widens. She raises her hand to run her fingers through his messy hair. His bare chest is warm against hers even through the shirt. She feels every single ridge and muscle moving against her as he breathes. They stay like that for a long time. Nesrin is thankful that it is the weekend, and they don't have any classes.

"Nes," James whispers into her neck.

She hums in response, tangling her limbs further into his.

He's quiet for a second as if hesitating. She knits her eyebrows together, tilting her head to look at him. He moves so he can face her properly. His tongue darts out to touch his bottom lip as he looks away briefly.

Turning his gaze back to her, he says, "Can I—" He stops himself and then starts again. "Can I tell my friends about us?"

Her eyes widen slightly. More at the surprise of the question that came out of nowhere rather than what he's actually asking.

He searches her eyes, trying to decipher what she's thinking. For a long moment, she doesn't answer him.

She is so immensely grateful to him that he's asking her for permission. But she also can't help the sudden guilt that rolls through her.

He shouldn't have to ask her this.

He should be able to tell his friends if he wants to.

She has been so focused on protecting him and not letting her parents find out about them that it hadn't occurred to her that James would want to tell the people he cares about that he is dating her.

It also hadn't occurred to her that maybe it would be okay if they do tell the people they trust about them. Maybe it would bring them both relief instead of anxiety.

She's silent for so long that his face falls defeatedly and he clears his throat, attempting a weak smile.

"Right," he says. "It's alright. I'm sorry, I know it may be too soon to have asked that—"

"Yes," she interrupts. "You can tell them."

His eyes widen as his gaze flickers between her eyes. She lifts her hands to cup his cheeks and kisses his nose softly.

"I don't want you to feel as if you need my permission to do something," she continues, resting their foreheads together. "I'm sorry I was so ignorant about our relationship. Back then and now. I want you to tell the people you love about us if that's what you want. I don't want to hold you back from anything."