Oblivion

The Lost Scenes

Hey. 

So I feel that it goes without saying that I'm not finishing Oblivion. However, I have a document with over 18,000 words that includes a lot of scenes that you never got to read. I'm going to post them here. They will be in chronological order after 'The Red Thong', but there'll be some gaps. A ^^^ will denote the shift between different scenes/chapters. I hope you enjoy Oblivion 'The Lost Scenes'. 

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“Grace,” he murmurs, softly stroking the length of my back with his long fingers. “I-I know it seems like I just use you.” He plants a gentle kiss on my spine. “And I really don’t mean to. I just . . . I get lonely sometimes.” He clears his throat. “That probably sounds funny, considering who I am, and the hoards of fans that follow my every move, but it’s true. It’s not like I don’t appreciate them, or the things that they do, because I do; I owe them everything, but they don’t really know me. They have this version of me that they’ve constructed in their heads, and I can’t always measure up to it, I want to, but I just can’t.” His fingers stop, and silence stretches across the bed.

I’ve almost fallen asleep when he speaks again. 

“I think it’s one of the loneliest things, to be surrounded by people who only think they know you.” He sighs, his warm breath creating goose bumps on my cool skin. “I know it’s a rubbish excuse for what I’m doing, and I know that I’m a coward, telling you this when you can’t even hear me, but just the same, I’m sorry.” He presses his lips to my skin once more before rolling over. 

^^^ 

Personal Questions:

“You realize, I hardly even know you,” Harry murmurs, almost to himself, as he strokes my hair. It’s Sunday morning, sunlight spills through the windows, warming the room, and neither of us wants to leave the bed. 

“After what we did last night, and the nights before that, I’d say you know me pretty well,” I remind him, tracing his collarbone with my fingertips. His chest vibrates beneath me, as he chuckles. 

“True enough, but not what I meant. I don’t even know your favorite color.”

 I prop myself up on my elbows to look him in the eyes.

“Blue, and you?”

“Orange.”

“There now, we know more about each other than our sexual preferences. Satisfied?” I lie back down, and nuzzle my face into his neck, nipping at his skin, trying to distract him from the topic.

“No, I’m not.” He gently, but firmly grasps my shoulder, pulling me away from my work. His green eyes search mine, his brow furrowed. “Why won’t you tell me anything?” 

“I don’t want to,” I whisper, looking away.

“You don’t want me to know? Or you don’t want to talk about it?” 

“Both.”

“Grace,” he says softly, sitting up. “Why?” He reaches to touch my cheek, but I pull away. Gathering the white duvet around me, I slide off the bed onto the hardwood floor. I’m done with this conversation.

“Because, Harry, just because, okay?” Little by little, I gather and put on the clothes I discarded last night. Harry watches from the bed, his eyes following my movements, his lips unmoving.