𝑼𝒏𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 ✔️

7.

Monroe woke up feeling slightly hazed but comfortable nonetheless. From what she could see out the tinted windows it was just about dawn. She shifted slightly realizing that she wasn't alone when she heard a small groan from behind her.

She remembered what happened the previous night that they both fell asleep after reading. She had never felt comfort in the past nine years roughly. It felt odd to her- no maybe that was not the term she was looking for but she loved being comforted by him. His heat was radiating off of her, this was the only time he was completely warm and vulnerable where his usual persona he would lock himself away.

She shifted herself again which caused Harry to groan louder. She looked over to see his face in a slight frown; due to her moving, before relaxing back making her smile slightly. He looked so young and innocent, he was only twenty four but he always looked so stern and strict which made her wonder about his story even more.

She raised her finger and placed it delicately on his arm tracing his stories inked permanently on him.

Why did people get tattoos? Many didn't know.

Maybe it was because they wanted to remember an event or day that meant most to them.

Maybe they wanted to remember a significant someone that changed their lives

Or maybe they had stories such as Harry that didn't want to express it in words so he simply put it on his body.

Monroe had stories- tons of them but that didn't mean she wanted to share them or express them anyway shape or form. She would say everyone's inked with their story whether it be externally or internally people all had them- good or bad. Some people chose to express them and some people- such as herself, liked to keep them inside but maybe that wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

"What are you doing?" She heard Harry's voice say.

She looked up at him, startled by his voice. "Shh go back to sleep, I'm just thinking," she replied but he only raised his eyebrow up in curiosity.

"You're thinking at fucking five in the morning. Interesting, what are you thinking about that seems to be so flattering to get up so early?"

"Daisy and Gatsby," she lied. She scolded herself for lying to him because he could see through her lies so easily even if everyone else can't.

"Why?" He asked and she shrugged. "Because you were right," she said quietly. "I thought they would end up together- I don't even know why but I did and she was too self conceited and greedy-"

He stopped her by putting his finger on her lip. "Now that you got that out your chest you can tell me what you're really thinking." She froze knowing she got caught in her lies and she looked away from him in shame.

"You don't have to lie to me Roe," he whispered bringing her chin up for her to look at him; now that she was facing him her knees in between his legs but she couldn't bare to look at his eyes. "I may have known you for less than a month but let's face it, I'm the only one that knows at least one thing about you in god knows how long."

Monroe didn't answer him instead she just looked back down at his arm and traced the ink- his ink. "You have stories," she simply said as he clenched his jaw and gave her a hard gaze. She swallowed nervously and continued to trace his arm. "You probably won't tell me them." She kissed his forehead. "But that's okay because I'd be a hypocrite for asking when I will never tell you mine."

"How bad can yours be?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"Let's just say that there's never going to be a happy ending for me," she said smiling sadly. She accepted that fact in herself. She may not experience the same pain she did awhile back but she knew she would never be happy again.