sign {h.s.}

epíleg : primer de cinc

N I N E M O N T H S L A T E R

"Good morning, il mio tutto," he murmurs softly, rolling over on his bed to pepper kisses against my cheeks, forehead, and collarbone. His morning voice rasps as he speaks for the first time. This has been the wake up call I've received every morning from the past nine months. My eyes fluttering open for the first time to look upward, eyes on the mirror reflecting our position back to us.

Every night, we fall asleep, curled on our sides. Harry's body wrapped snug and tightly around my own.

Every night, without fail, we wake up in the morning with my body possessively draped on top of his own. "Morning," I rasp back, turning to curl up into his body. Eagerly, his arms await me; comforting and strong as they hold me fast and square. His heartbeat is regular and steady beneath me, save from every time I move in which it skips a beat. Harry's bodily response is instinctual to me. For the life of him, he could not fake his reactions to me. 

I press my own kiss square to his chest. He squeezes me even tighter. "Ti amo così tanto che mi fa male." Little by little, he has insisted on teaching me Italian. In his private study, he has countless learn Italian books—not to mention he is something of a learn Italian walking resource himself. Still, I get the language confused with Spanish—of which I am more familiar—but his patience with me is unwavering.

"Ti amo di più." 

A look of pride crosses his face as he moves in to give me a kiss. Quickly, I stop him, putting my hand on his lips preventing him from getting any closer. "What?" He asks in something of a panic, unsure whether something is wrong before the smile spreads on my face.

"Hello," I say as though it should be obvious, "morning breath." 

He rolls his eyes, instantly clambering out of bed, "sai quanto sei fortunato che ti amo così tanto?" He rapidly murmurs to himself. Unable to understand it, I do hear his utterance that he does love me, assuring me that he isn't truly bothered by my antics.

I am quick to follow in suit, following him to the en suite bathroom. Since I moved in, the apartment finally began to flesh out. Little by little, I started bringing home decorations. My monthly contribution is minimal to the rent—not to mention he refused to let me pay for my car. So, I began decorating his apartment. It started with picture frames—I went through pictures of us and some of his favorite pictures from traveling as well as some of the pictures with my family. Then, I progressed to throw pillows. Rugs. Flowers. Little by little, this place lost the cool edge. It began to feel like a home. My home. 

We each have one side of the double vanity, but, Harry has never been good at distance for us. Toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, he presses himself firmly behind me. One hand caging me in while the other guides the blue toothbrush around his mouth. I lean back into him. His shirtless chest—his shirt clad on my body—radiates a warm heat, welcome after leaving the stark warmth of the bed.

It is September, now. 

Lola's final year of college is about to begin. Harry wanted to be near by to ensure that she would be able to get along well with her new interpreter. After a long time, he decided he would not be able to return to school with Lola. His program, MILA, is finally beginning to kick off. For nearly the past year, we've been working nonstop to figure out the logistics and make it happen. Now, we are officially opening our doors, so to speak.

We are launching our test runs between the United States, Italy, and France. This is where Harry has the most knowledge and influence. Should all go well, now, he is almost entirely sure that we will be able to open to more countries by next year.