The Armor (Prince Harry fanfic #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Harry held her hand, suddenly far away from their slum. He tried to lead her away, but her feet dragged against the ground. He realized she didn't need her hand held, she was a big girl, but she liked it. She liked to feel another human being. She liked the touch.

It was quiet now, through the streets. The only yelling came from the military, which were back there. The idea was to get the farthest away that they could, and Harry pulled her down the dusty road. Everyone was gone, hidden in doors, and in the small village, Harry was suddenly unsure where he was. The slums rose above him. Instead of panicking, he pushed Lucy against a slum wall so she might breathe. He was so certain that she didn't breathe.

Lucy pushed against the slum, and she breathed ever so deeply, through her nose and out of mouth. He rubbed his fingertips across her arms, up and down, like the air she took into her lungs. Her eyes closed for five seconds, and then she took, brushing herself off.

"Lucy?" Harry whispered.

"Let's go."

"What?" He stood next to her. "Maybe you should just relax a little bit more."

"I'm fine. Let's go." She walked past him, entering the main road. Her eyes glanced left, right, left, right, back and forth. Head tilting back, her gaze went to the sky, past noon. She turned right and walked on.

Harry rushed to keep up with her and then walked with her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I usually stay away from guns. It's pretty easy. America usually is the only country with questionable ability to kill each other." Her words were chipped and cut, crisp and clear, like they were rehearsed. "And I didn't really think of having the issue here."

"When you hear gunshots, do you panic?"

"I didn't panic," she snapped, and Harry nodded. "And no. It doesn't happen with TV or movies. But this is real life. I know what it's like to be shot, and it's not fun. So when someone points a gun at someone, excuse me for not being happy." She swallowed and stopped. "My wish for the world is peace, but will that happen? No. I do so, but probably no." She walked on.

Slipping his hand into her hand, Harry held her hand, palm to palm, interlocked fingers. He never did this with any other girl he ever had a relationship with. He wouldn't call this a real relationship yet. He wouldn't call this dating yet. But now as no one watched, he wanted the normal relationship, all of it. All of it felt so natural, so normal, and Lucy didn't fight it. She accepted it, and he liked it. He wanted to reach over and kiss her, tilt her head back with his other hand. Perhaps, if he had the confidence, he would wrap his arm around her as they walked down the street, not at the small of her back and not around her shoulders. They still had time.

 Her coldness was a friendly memory to his home, which he didn't even notice he missed. He wanted the heat, but the coldness was his home, like the rain. Though, he loved the days of sunshine; it wasn't the same. This was all going to be a memory soon, especially Lucy, and he wanted her in the sunshine, when she constantly looked ablaze.

Her thumb ran over the back of his hand, reminding of the present, like it was to live. All of what humanity was in one touch, to live now. Their future didn't matter, and their past was absolutely painless. They could be whoever they wanted to be. They were free.

Their slum came, and they walked past it, deciding to take the long way around. Dry dust picked up around them. Their feet dragged along in tiredness. Harry laughed aloud as Lucy explained something about her home, and he found it almost outrageous. Lucy laughed too. Getting closer to her, his arm pressed against hers, closer and closer they became. He laughed again, at an old memory, and Lucy only laughed at him, finding it cute.

They came back to their slum as clouds filled the sky. Rain was coming, ready to drench everything in its path. Undoubtedly, it would be wet in their slum tonight. Quietness took over as the door closed. It was just them, their own hearts beating, their own breathing up and down.

"Do you want something to eat?" Harry asked.

"Sure, thanks."

Harry moved around the room, slowly putting things together to make food. They were given packaged food that could be prepared quickly with ripping open the package and letting it breathe, like you would eat in the army. Harry was used to this food, whereupon Lucy had gotten used to it. It didn't taste the best, but you got what you got. None of it really mattered.

Lucy sat upon her bed as he handed her food, which she took a bite of. He sat across the room on his bed. Quietness was overtaken by crunching. A rumble of thunder marched across the sky, and Harry smiled to himself. This was his happiness.

Standing up, she took the room in two steps, landing in front of Harry. His blue eyes raked up her body, taking everything in. She was beautiful. His fingertips were cold, desperate to be warm, as the temperature outside dropped. They brushed against his palm, taking away his food, placing it on the table beside him. Fingertips brushed across his jaw, bringing his lips to hers. Warmth spread through her. Reality hit her, and she ignored it. None of the outside world mattered.

His fingers entangled in her hair, finding the back of her head. He kissed her a little bit harder, which she allowed. His fingertips pushed in her back, pushing her closer, which she allowed. They were on the bed next to each other, taking each other in with closed eyes. His soft mixed in with the cot, as Harry discovered where the scars really went. She wore the scars with greatness. She was most beautiful being he had ever laid eyes upon.

As they laid back, the question was asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The kissing depended. They could go back at any moment, because they were always allowed. You could always say no. And both would've stopped. If they actually cared about you, they would stop. They cared for each other, and they chose to keep going.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."