Hey Angel. //h.s//

//Burning Love//

Grace's POV:

Sometimes it's nice lying with you,
In silence, in the dark.
Listening to the rain falling outside whilst we stay in,
Wrapping the duvets around our intertwined bodies,
Your hand on top of mine.

Sometimes it's nice losing the feeling in my right arm,
Just because I know you're there to hold me.
Your feet trying not to touch mine,
Just because you know I don't like it,
But they're next to mine because I want you to stay close.

Sometimes it's nice facing you,
Watching you slowly falling asleep,
Trying your hardest to stay awake,
Because you know I like falling asleep first,
Although I never do,
You still do it for me.

Sometimes it nice waking up to you,
Your pale face covered with faint marks,
Because when you roll over, the pillow scrunches against your cheeks.
Your lips slightly parted as small breaths escape,
Even when your hand tries it's hardest to hide your breath,
Because you know I don't like it in the morning,
I don't care, because I still like you.

Sometimes it's nice lying there with you,
Just because I know you're there.

And he was, he was there. I lift my body off of the bed and find a strewn top on the floor. His white Jimi Hendrix shirt, his scent consumed it. As I came to my feet, I stumble back onto the bed, have I forgotten how to walk or is he bigger than I imagined? I'm praying the former. Tiptoeing to the kitchen, I begin my routine. Finding the iPod left in it's speaker, I scroll through Harry's endless list of songs. That was until I stumbled across a certain one that I missed. He ruined it for me. But now I'm figuratively trying to remove his engraved markings into my body.

Temporarily wiping his memory from my mind, I press play.

Lord Almighty,
I feel my temperature rising
Higher higher
It's burning through to my soul
Girl, girl, girl, girl
You gonna set me on fire
My brain is flaming
I don't know which way to go

Scouring his kitchen I searched for my utensils and ingredients until I found the right ones. Pulling a frying pan out of the cupboard, I place it on his cooker and begin to make my pancake batter. Peanut butter and banana to be exact, an involuntarily smile creeps upon my face.

Your kisses lift me higher
Like the sweet song of a choir
You light my morning sky
With burning love

Harry's POV:

The emptiness of my bed awakes me as my hand searches for the missing girl. Pulling myself up off the bed, I find my boxers and put them on as I walk into the kitchen. I see her, dancing and whisking. Her hips swaying with her hair strewn up into a messy bun.
As the next verse approaches I start singing to her,

Ooh, ooh, ooh,
I feel my temperature rising
Help me, I'm flaming
I must be a hundred and nine
Burning, burning, burning
And nothing can cool me
I just might turn to smoke
But I feel fine

Her body shakes and she spins around quickly, caught off guard. The smile curves her lips and displays her teeth.
'Morning' I yawn to her. Her lips are drawn in a smirks, her eyes scanning my chest. I let out a cough when she doesn't reply. Shaking her head she slips back to reality. 'What's for breakfast?' I question, as I look around at the mess she has created.

'Peanut butter and banana pancakes, hopefully I make them better than you' she smirks, my facial expression proves to be doubting of her completely. My family has a secret ingredient, mum's only told me. I used to have nightmares after dad left and she would always make them for me, when I would stumble into her room in the middle of the night with a tear stained face. Then when I moved out, she handed me a piece of paper with the recipe on it. The memory reminds me to ring mum later.