the journal - h.s.

66

[amber’s pov]

I could hear his heartbeat; the most beautiful sound. I had always found the sound of a beating heart somehow terrifying. It was so closely connected to the thin line between life and death. Movies or music tunes, maybe even art installations using the sound of a beating heart would always make the adrenaline float in my body. I would put a hand over my own heart and suddenly be so very aware of that thin crucial line between existing and not existing. Beating and not beating. And I would hold my breath while for a second fearing I would in that very moment of awareness feel my heart literally stop. That was probably one of my biggest fears in life; to feel my heart stop forever. And be aware of that meaning the end.

But listening to Harry’s heartbeat had taken me by surprise; I had actually wanted to listen to it. I had wanted to hear it beat in that steady, lively, and most enchanting rhythm in his chest. It was proof of his existing and it was so endlessly beautiful, that I didn’t even fear for my own heart by the familiar sound of his. If my heart stopped, at least I knew I would end my time on earth as close to being in heaven as one could come, as I laid there on his bare and wonderfully warm chest, unable to stop smiling.

From out of nowhere I had asked about the laptop and his answer had been so calm. His fingertips ran in dizzily circles on my skin, as I with closed eyes listened to his raspy morning voice mixing with the sound of his beating heart. He radiated warmth into my skin.

“I was just checking my inbox to… yeah anyway just checking my mail, and I saw he - or well his assistant actually - had sent it multiple times,” I could hear by the sound how his heart was still in that steady rhythm, and I started tracing lines on his chest without really realizing doing so; maybe in a way of unconsciously comforting him. All I knew was the feeling of his skin was real. Letting my fingertips run over the warm, smooth skin filled with the inked histories was heavenly.

“He wants me to come to this 'weekend event'. Something with his job,” Harry had never actually told me what his father was working with. Though I had a very clear idea of it definitely being something important - some powerful position maybe? It would suit his persona too - of what little I had heard of him. Of course I was worried to hear about this 'email', but I tried concentrating on the calmness. One of us had to stay emotionally stable, right?

“And - and it was just written so formally. Like if I hadn’t been his actual son but just one of his damn clients! And it was even his assistant who’d sent it! His assistant! He couldn’t even sent me the fucking email himself!” His heart was beating faster, as his voice grew more frustrated. His fingertips had abandoned my skin to be led irritatedly through his curly hair  instead - he always did that when he was upset.

I lifted my head and balanced my chin on my folded hands. He was in a more seated position so he could look down at me.

His chest was rising and falling. His eyes occasionally shifted focus in a hectic way until I caught his eyes with mine. He just looked at me - holding my gaze - he lifted his hand to my face and moved away the wild strands of hair that had fallen messily from my sleep. I watched him as he focused on that simple, caring job. It seemed like it was the most important one in the world to him at the moment. Everything else could wait. And with that he seemed to calm down again.

“He hasn’t even tried contacting me since I dropped out of Harvard. And he knows. He knows I moved here. I know he does. He always knows everything, ” his voice was calm again, bitter but calm.

“And now after so long he’s finally saying something - and it’s because his work is forcing him too! Hell he would probably just hire someone to play his fucking useless son, if it wasn’t for the fact that they know what I look like,” he grinned sarcastically and sighed annoyed. I pulled myself up and out from the half hide of the duvet. He was sitting with his back up against the bare wall which the head of the bed met. I seated closely next to him, sitting on my heels with my calves beneath my thighs, like we had in some of my yoga classes. I had always loved sitting in that position, and I had grown to love it even more, as the instructor kept referring to it as the 'diamond pose'. “First off all; you’re so far from useless it would take lightyears for you to ever even reach that point,” leaning in I gave him a slow kiss on the corner of his lips. His breathing grew more heavy. Only just breaking the contact to his lips I whispered; “secondly anyone missing out on spending time with you must be fools -  they are missing out on more than they will ever realize.” I kissed him lightly on the other corner of his mouth, as my hand ran over his chest carefully.