autobiography // h.s. au (sequel to the writer)

chapter 4

Alexis

It's an empty love - that's our relationship. There's love, no doubt, but it's not vibrant and colourful. It doesn't consume us like novels describe it to. It's there, simmering around us. It starts to boil, waiting for the bubbles. But the bubbles never come, and the pot never boils - it merely warms from time to time. We've settled into a routine.

We're so boring that we can't even have exciting, all-consuming sex. We have to stop halfway through. He doesn't get lost in me enough to have me up against a wall like he used to. We were insatiable our first few months together, never leaving each other's side, always staring at each other from across crowded rooms, telepathically telling each other, "We need to go now. We need to fuck."

Harry's new book had been in the top ten of the New York Best Sellers list for around 9 weeks now, and his publisher wanted to celebrate such a feat. We were in a retro ballroom, warm lights strung across the ceiling, and there was a subtle darkness to the room. Harry stood in the middle of the room, and hadn't moved since we first got here. After he'd finished talking to one person about the symbolism he'd used throughout out the book, another would approach and enquire about the metaphors.

I was leaning against a wall in the far back corner, watching people move around the room. Some frantic and excited to be at such a party, others were so truly at comfort as this was just another high class party for them. Harry, though, acted so differently to everyone else in the room. Although he
wasn't so used to parties ridden with socialites, he fit in perfectly. His shoulders sat broad and with good posture, his smile was comforting and reassuring, and his conversation was smooth and enticing. I knew he didn't want to be at the party, but God was it hot to watch him be so confident at the party.

His eyes strayed from the young woman he was talking to for a moment, searching the room for something: me. He spotted me seconds later, and I smiled. He smiled back. I waved, he waved. The next minute, he was excusing himself and walking terribly fast over to me to keep people from being able to approach him.

He caught my hip softly with his hand, leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Home. Now."

"Don't you need to say goodbye?" I said teasingly. Harry wasn't a rude boy, but when he was like this - turned on and devious - he wouldn't waste a moment on a common and polite mannerism.

"Nope. Home." He laced his fingers through mine and lead me out the doors.

***

Harry is pressed unknowingly against my back, arm wrapped around my middle by instinct. His breathing is soft and even, warmly hitting the back of my head. He occasionally pulls me tighter against his body. It's sweet to think he wants me so close to him. Sometimes I think that when we're in bed I can understand the depth and meaning behind our relationship. He soft in bed, and his love radiates. Not as it does when we're awake - again, that's an empty love. His touch feels different, his body feels warmer. I like nighttime.

"You know I love you, Lex," Harry mumbles. I thought he was asleep, lost in his own mind, not worried about mine, but he's awake, and he's mumbling sweet words that don't seem to mean that much anymore.

He turns my body to him. Our sleepy eyes meet, half-open. His hands drag slowly up and down my body. He wants my reply.

"I know you love me," I reply. I bring my hand up to his sharp jaw and run my hand down his warm skin.

"What's happened to us?" And he spears my heart, rips it out and places it on a platter for my rising soul to watch beat. He's gone right in, and he's investigating the unspoken problem.

"You feel it too, yeah? That emptiness that somehow arose. How did that happen? Once we were fucking night and day and sickly in love, and then we were eating dinner silently and barely kissing," Harry says.

"I don't know what happen. It's like one day someone decided that we didn't get to be happy anymore." Our hands are running aimlessly around each other's bodies, and our hearts are both beating at rapid speeds.

"Fix it with me. I want you for the rest of my life. I want passion and love for us. Help me find it."