How I Heal

#14

I've always wondered what being smitten was like.

My very first impression of the word itself was that it was idiotic.

A completely foolish way to feel, a ridiculous response to reciprocated emotion.

Until it was just another word used to describe me.

Smitten.

It took a lot of tearing, but the wall Harry had was finally down.

He was open. He was all in. And he was finally mine to hold.

I wanted to express how his every curve and edge, his flaws and perfect ways, even how something as simple as his smile could turn my day around.

"I'm sorry about my actions previously," I could hear him whisper beside me.

We were at the cabin. Harry brought me to another room I didn't even realize existed before this very moment, but I didn't care.

I was just content I could be with him. It was all I ever wanted.

Yet,

I still had so much to consider.

Since yesterday everything felt so much louder.

My heartbeat. His voice.

My thoughts.

I wanted to tell him everything but I didn't know if I was going too fast.

Truthfully speaking, I could really see something official for us if he would like that.

But I didn't want to mention it first.

(At least not yet)

His lengthy fingers intertwined with mine ever so often, his free hand lightly gripping my hair tie as he pulled my hair out before fixing it again and again.

This repetitive motion should have been annoying but it almost felt soothing.

"Tell me something," I suddenly spoke up. "Anything. About your life. Preferably, something personal."

I was greeted with silence, his stare lingering on the ceiling for what felt like hours.

If he didn't have such expressive eyes, I wouldn't be able to tell if he was thinking or just plain reluctant.

His mouth pried itself open, before I could decide if it was the latter.

"What do you want to know?" He finally whispered, his eyebrows lowering.

I thought to myself, humming as I tapped my chin.

"What's something you like to do?" I asked, my eyes scanning Harry's.

Our fingers intertwined and loosened as the seconds pass. Minutes felt like hours,but I'd much rather lay my whole entire soul bare if that meant I'd have his time of day.

"That's so vague," He lightly said, his eyes falling between my face and the ceiling.

The stars on the ceiling twinkled if you stared long enough, illuminating his jade eyes- making them almost crystal clear in the dim lighting.

"I mean. Your passion," I told him, crashing onto my back.

"My passion," he repeated in a mumble. "I think.. I think the only thing that comes to mind when I consider a question like that is singing."