Tokyo Drift || HS

21 || Elastic Heart

I WISH I COULD stop time. 

Make the seconds move even slower. 

But every slip of the minute tells me that Harry is that much closer to walking out the hotel door and leaving our bubble behind.

Luckily, his car doesn't arrive until late in the morning, so we decide to get up and eat breakfast together. Turn on some music. Pretend that everything is normal, even though it's far from it.

Neither of us seem to want to acknowledge the unspoken question floating around the room.

When are we going to see each other?

How is this going to work?

Harry must see the tension in my body, because he suddenly grabs my legs, wrapping them around him before hoisting me up on the counter. I sit at eye level, looking into his steady gaze while his body stands between my legs.

"Do you know when you'll get home?" He asks, running his thumb along my bottom lip.

The jazz music plays softly while he removes his touch.

"I don't know...I have to stay here until the article is done, so whenever my boss says we can go."

I decide not to mention Sebastian's job offer, mainly because I don't even know what to think of it yet.

"Where are you going next?" I ask, changing topics.

"LA." His hands move to my waist, pulling me closer to him. "Have to hop back to the studio. Make some changes. Meet with the press team to draft up some final versions."

"Say hi to Mitch for me." I smile, attempting to break the somber mood.

"Of course," he laughs. "I'm sure he misses you."

I absorb the sound of his laugh before it gradually stills. The atmosphere of the room shifts once again into something much too serious.

"Tell me when you get home. I'll come to New York." 

I glance up to meet his eyes before nodding in response. His hand moves up to my cheek once more, his fingers gently caressing my skin.

The sounds of the city still into silence. 

The only noise left is the soft instrumental of Bill Evans' piano fluidly playing in the background.

The drop in my stomach occurs like usual, but this time the feeling is muted – the air less electric but still just as intimate.

His body moves closer until he leans in to rest his forehead against mine. It's me who makes the first move, pressing my lips against his to close what's left of the gap between us.

A fire ignites within me.

His lips are firm, communicating words that haven't been said. His mouth works along with mine, savoring any taste of each other we can get.

Our lips continue. His hands move back down to my waist while mine latch around his neck. My fingers rake through the tufts of his wavy hair.

He lifts me up, setting me back down on the tiled floor. Our lips finally part and I take the chance to look up at him – my eyes never able to get enough. Once I'm stable, he moves his hands down to my hips. He pulls me into another kiss while swaying his feet to the melodic jazz music that plays through the speakers.