Recollection

thirty-three | chocolate milk

song: lana del rey - brooklyn baby (dreamy version + slowed)

I woke before Atticus, just as I always seemed to lately. Morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, painting the room in soft golds and silvers. The sound of his slow, steady breathing filled the quiet space, grounding me in its rhythm. Atticus lay partly beside me, his dark hair tousled and wild against my chest. He looked peaceful, younger somehow in sleep, with none of the sharpness in his features that he wore during the day.

My hand moved before I could stop myself. Gently, I stroked my fingers through his hair, the strands silky and warm against my skin. It had become a small comfort, these quiet moments when the world felt still, and I could simply exist with him without the weight of my thoughts pressing in. My fingers traced the edge of his temple, lingering at the place where his jaw met his cheek.

I missed these moments. All I knew was that when I touched him, the knots inside me loosened just a little with each passing breath.

His lashes fluttered, and I froze. Slowly, his eyes opened, the familiar ice blue flecked with white meeting mine. For a moment, he simply looked at me, and then the faintest of smiles curved his lips.

"Good morning firecracker," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

"Morning," I replied, my voice soft. I let my hand drop, feeling a flush creep up my neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." He shifted onto his side, propping himself up slightly so he could look at me more fully. "Though if I had to wake up to anything, I think I'd pick you."

His words stole my breath for a moment, and I wasn't sure if he noticed. Knowing Atticus, he probably did. There was a subtle way he watched me, he could see through the layers I wore to shield myself.

I tried to shake off the sudden rush of emotion. "You always wake up like this Full of compliments"

"Only when they're deserved." He reached out then, brushing a stray strand of hair away from my face. His hand lingered just a little too long, and my chest tightened.

Before I could think of something clever—or at least safe—to say, he leaned closer. The warmth of his breath fanned across my skin, and then he kissed me, right above my heart. The gentleness of the gesture startled me, made something deep inside me unravel. His lips lingered there for a beat too long before he moved, pressing another kiss to my lips.

It was soft, achingly sweet, and I let myself sink into it, feeling his warmth deep into my bones.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine. "how are you feeling?"

I nodded, but I must not have been convincing because his brow furrowed slightly. "You've been quiet, by now I should have received at least one sarcastic remark," he said carefully, as though he was testing the waters. "Tell me what's on your mind. "