Sweaters [hs]

nine

Portland||2:43am

 

 

            Their legs were entangled, and their fingers intertwined; their feelings being put into actions. Her hair was sprawled across the pillow, and his hair was in unruly curls; tucked safely behind the bend of his ears. His hands felt every curve and inch of her figure. He felt the dip of her hips, the smoothness of her thighs, the goose bumps that arose on her skin, and he felt the mold of his lips against hers; they belonged together.

            He leaned in, softly pressing his lips to hers; Noah closed her eyes, pain sliding through her. Which each thrust, he pressed their bodies closer together; each thrust, their words were jumbled into moans. She couldn’t keep her eyes open, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

            “Baby,” Harry could barely speak, the feeling of ecstasy coursing through his veins. “I am truly, madly, and deeply in love with you.”

            Noah smiles, Harry collapsed next to her; wrapping the sheets tighter around her nude body.  “I love you.”

            “Why do you always wear sweaters?” Harry traced the scars along her wrists, his green eyes stricken with concern.

            “Because, I’m cold.” Noah turned on her side to face him, tracing his lips with her fingers.

“What’s the real reason, Noah?” His tone soft and kind, pieces of hairs stuck to his face with sweat.

            “I wear sweaters to hide the cuts on my wrists,” Noah paused, waiting to see his reaction. “I started cutting back at the beginning of the year, when my father had passed. I started smoking as well, to ease the pain. I felt like it was my fault that he’d passed, if I wasn’t on that stupid date; he would be alive today.” She couldn’t help but let the tears escape.

            Harry wiped her tears away, kissing her cheeks softly. “Promise me something, promise me you’ll never hurt yourself again.”

            “I promise, Harry. I promise.” Noah ran her fingers through his hair, her eyes focused on his.