The Artist [h.s.]

five

Carter woke with Harry's arms around her, their feet tangled, and her head on his chest. A part of her still felt awful for just kissing him last night, but a larger part of her was happy that she had because she got a huge secret off her chest and she had been missing his comfort for far too long.

Harry's soft snores filled her ears had her smiling. She traced her fingertips over the ink in his skin and stopped just above his heart, only to let her fingers feel the heartbeat that matched hers exactly.

People often talk about soul mates and the fact that there is someone out there for everyone, but Carter had never been one to believe in such things. She knew that love was out there, but having someone specifically for her just didn't seem logical. Until she'd fallen in love with Harry.

Harry was hers and there wasn't a single doubt in her mind.

Looking at him now, in the faint glow of the morning, his lips parted and his hair a qualified mess, she knew that he was her one. She couldn't stay away from him and he couldn't stay away from her. They were like magnets and metal, difficult to separate and always being pulled back together.

Harry was still broken, his muscles weren't as firm as they used to be and he was still far too thin for his clothes sometimes, but he was still beautiful to her.

On the bedside dresser, her phone vibrated softly. She knew that it was Jacob calling, but she didn't want to pull away from Harry and he could always call back later, he was a patient man, the total opposite of Harry.

Harry would have called repeatedly until she picked up and sent hundreds of texts simultaneously.

"You should answer that." Harry's voice was cracked and deep as he mumbled. Carter had forgotten just how much she loved waking up to that voice and goosebumps were quick to take hold of her skin.

"I don't need to." Harry was hard and she could feel it on her hip, but she wasn't going to move and he could get it down without her help anyway.

Harry sighed and gripped her a little tighter, almost possessively, "It's him, isn't it?"

Carter continued to trace invisible patterns in his skin, "Yes."

Harry's lips pulled down in a frown, his green eyes sad as he looked down at her, "You don't have to choose me over him, you know.

She only cuddled closer to him, breathing in the faint scent of his familiar cologne, "I know."

It was in that moment, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, that he noticed she was wearing the shirt he had given her long before they were actually even dating. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "You're wearing my shirt."

Carter nodded, it was one of the many things that she hadn't let go of and that Jacob didn't know about either, "I wear it every night. Can't seem to sleep with or without it, really. But I like knowing that it's yours, even if it doesn't smell like you anymore."

Harry's smile grew and his heartbeat picked up, "I like knowing that you do that. I wish that I had something of yours, other than my tattoos. You only left me with the ring, the note, and the memories."

Carter frowned, she knew that she'd done that on purpose, but now it just seemed unfair of her to have a piece of him and leave him without anything of her.

The thought took a moment to grow, but then she remembered that she had brought something with her that he could keep without Jacob even realizing it, something that Jacob had never touched.

"Do you remember that pair of black lace underwear that you loved?"

Harry remembered what she was talking about as if he had seen them yesterday and responded curiously, "Yes, I remember."