Kismet

Twenty One [The Mask]

Your basket is brimming with mandarin oranges, tomatoes, cucumbers and fresh crusty bread, a brick of cheddar cheese that you saw Harry survey and practically drool over, frozen burritos, eggs, ramen, oatmeal, herbal teas, a fresh pint of cream and cans of tuna for a certain small tuft of black fur. Harry is perceptive enough to guess that you are secretly buying him groceries, but he's too meek to make the assumption out loud so he chooses to stay quiet instead as he pretends to read the label on the back of a package of cookies.

The two of you had laid together in his bed for almost an hour after his heart wrenching confessions, playing with each other's hands and exchanging soft kisses underneath the crowded halo of his crisp sheets. He seemed to have an obsession with nuzzling his nose into your hair and taking a long inhale, moaning quietly to himself each time the scent registered within his brain and scooting closer to knot your legs more tightly even though it seemed impossible. You laid together until the sun rose and then hid itself behind a veil of clouds, the first trickles of rain tapping against his window before a downpour arrived to lull you back to sleep.

Harry's fingertips traced the lines of your brow and cheekbone, your jaw and your lips as he watched your peaceful features indulge in something that he could never possibly understand as restful or calming. He held your face and gently brought his mouth to yours so as to not wake you, puckering softly and humming at the feeling of your most delicate and fragile skin coming together. He missed you while you were asleep, he missed the life and brightness of your enigmatic eyes, he missed your smile and every raw, spoken sentiment that both amused and composed him.

He charted a map of his favorite curves with the tips of his fingers, starting first with the formlines of your facial features before trailing down the creek of your neck, the hills of your breasts and the valley in between. He stroked the plateaus of your shoulders and smiled to himself when you shuddered with his descent down your arms, his palms bravely coursing over your hip to engulf the levee of your bottom with a hiss at the sensation of fullness.

He selfishly wanted you conscious and gazing into his eyes, sucking on his tongue and curling his hair around your fingertips but he'd already asked so much of you today; waking you up in the middle of the night to console him and unloading a deadweight of treacherous information onto you. Your steady affirmations were quickly becoming a daily requirement, like a vitamin that he once considered dry, daunting and impossible to swallow but is now becoming the very reason for his incline in health.

He pulled you close and rested his chin on top of your head, rhythmically breathing in and out while his hands roamed the expanse of your legs. He wished you were as bare as he was, his appetite for your skin and your smooth legs growing with each new raindrop that flicked against his window. He sort of liked being naked and vulnerable in your arms, as if your jeans were a symbol of the mighty shield you possess and his bareness was indicative of his achille's heel, your extra layer of warmth keeping him toasty and adding some friction to toughen his bruised skin.

His heart was sorely swollen with love and disbelief, his siren laid out before him in the place of his usual down pillow and you were everything he imagined you to be and more. It still felt unreal but he was beginning to convince himself that after the atrocious hand he had been dealt so far in life, the universe was making up for it in the form of mysterious eyes and wild honeycomb scented hair. He held you in unshakable arms while his anemic heart attempted to beat; two claps with a pause in between. Clap, clap, pause. His nova.

An invasion of tiny claws and fluffy fur lifted you from your reverie, her bouncy body attacking the sheets as if there were a hundred mice rather than two humans underneath. Harry tsked in disappointment and gathered her in one large palm, attempting to manage her wiggly body while you pulled away from him and groaned about being drowsy. You pried one eye open and then the next before dropping your hand to scratch behind her ears, her rascally nature quirking a small smile into the corner of your mouth. You looked at Harry and studied his pretty but gaunt face, clearing your throat before whispering, "do you know that you have a freckle on your upper lip?"