Paperdoll (Haylor)

e i g h t e e n

- e i g h t e e n -

Harry shifted in the lightly blue colored bed, a smile on his lips as he recalled the past with Taylor.

Her scent on the pillow and all around him, wishing he could engrave it into his skin.

The sweet, light aroma unique to her,

nobody could have.

Extending his arm outwards to the side where she once lied in; he frowned.

The only thing he could feel was the cold covers and emptiness.

Opening his spring leaved embers, he scanned the room for the girl with the notebook.

Failing to find her, he pulled himself out of bed and headed towards the stairwell, his shoes creaking against the olden wood.

Going down amiss the third step, he heard shuffling in the kitchen, followed by Taylor's small voice.

"Let's just hope for the best, maybe he'll like it."

He laughed quietly as he continued his way down and saw a view of Taylor's figure standing before the stove.

Harry's insides softened at the idea that she had been cooking for him.

Nobody had ever done anything like that.

Watching her frustrate over a small pan, often giving deep sighs, made Taylor seem more irresistible to Harry.

He looked closely from the entrance of the kitchen, admiring her.

As Taylor searched the cupboard for plates, he spoke from where he stood, making her jump slightly.

"Would you like a helping hand there miss Taylor?"

She turned to him and smiled, a couple of plates already in her hand.

"You've come just in time, except I have already finished."

Harry scoffed, walking closer to her and flaunted.

"You must be kidding, a pro baker like me is wanted in the kitchen, count yourself lucky such figure offered you assistance."

Taylor laughed at his vanity as he enveloped her in his arms.

Shaking her head, she disagreed.

"I haven't seen you show any skill, especially since that time you ended up with flour all over you..."

Trailing off the end of her sentence, she looked away as a frown began to from into Harry's expression.

"Well I'll be damned, now that I remember that was completely your fault miss Taylor. In fact, if I recall, you owe me that hug."

Before she could protest, he met their lips together once more.

He'd been aching to do that since they last parted, nothing in the world ever bringing him more comfort.

As Harry's love in form of a kiss marked their lips, Taylor's hands found their way to cup his face in her own, making a trace of caresses along his tattoos, causing him to shiver.

Electricity like feelings rushed in his insides, magically shaping them together.

Her lips where warm and now somewhat wet from the such clash of his against them. So full, the perfect feeling of them in between of his lips.

In that moment Harry knew that they fit together better than anything else, a broken masterpiece.

It was like he filled her hunger for love, and she allowed him to be the one to do it.