Status: active, hopefully
Untouchable
and I never saw you coming; and I'll never be the same
January 4th, 2012
Harry woke up that morning with the realisation that today was his last day in London for a while.
He had this so called rituals he always did before leaving for a very long tour; he called them his pre-leaving-for-tour rituals (Louis had appraised his intelligence for his obvious choice of words).
The first on the list was always to eat and sleep right two weeks prior the tour – this was originally management’s order and Harry had soon deemed it as golden as it was almost impossible to have descent meals and proper sleeps when he was on the road.
The second was to buy and pack his favorite scented candles from Holmes Chapel’s local store (yes, it had to be from Holmes Chapel) as many as possible (yes, everybody had told him that it was a little too feminine for a grown man to be fond of scented candles, but no, Harry did not care).
The third was to have lunch together with mum and Gemma – this was possibly the most important one because mum and Gemma gave him ace advices (put some lemons in your tea – they're always good for a sore throat and don’t stay up late all the time if you don’t want your asthma to keep coming back – mum, and buy more shoes you dork, your boots are an indecency – gemma).
The fourth one was to neglect packing until four hours before he had to take off; Harry found that packing under stress prevented him to pack unnecessary things. The fifth one is to clean his kitchen; throw away any food that had expiration date and any kinds of alcohol (Harry found that this prevented Nick to throw unexpected gatherings in his house while he was away).
A little past lunch time Harry had done ritual number one through ritual number four, all he needed to do then was to go home and clean his kitchen and he was ready to leave London for the next 12 months.
Except not really because Harry hadn’t gone to Rennee’s yet and without really realising it, he had added that into his pre-leaving-for-tour rituals.
They ended up cleaning his kitchen together, he and Jasmine, and instead of throwing away the half-finished bottle of wine in his kitchen cabinet they drank it together with the Chinese take out they had for dinner. At the end of the night Harry found himself slightly tipsy while laying his head on Jasmine’s lap, the tv flickering with old british comedy.
She was running her hands through his hair absent-mindedly and the combination between the sound of her slow breath and her faint heart beat and her gentle touch was taking him higher and higher and warmer and warmer and farther and farther away – it was the most intoxicating thing and Harry was mesmerised.
When it was well past midnight, he asked her to stay.
“Okay,”
Was what she said and even though she smiled, she looked solemn and sad and Harry suddenly felt the same way – even though he didn’t know why.
He looked at her and he touched her skin and he kissed her lips and he drank her impeccable presence until his mind was no longer coherent – and when she kissed him back Harry was drowning in desires he’d never had before.
Limbs tangled, breath taken away, touch after touch imprinted from one another – they were burning with passion and Harry had never felt anything as consumingly pure.
He held her close afterwards, so close until Harry could trace the faint freckles on her nose. He searched for her eyes.
“I’m going to miss you most Jasmee.”
He heard himself say, raspy and undone and completely out of his control – it was almost pathetic really.
She didn’t say anything back and merely nodded, but he noticed that her clear, transparent brown eyes were glossy.
Harry felt them that night: the shift of the steel walls around his heart, the force of attachment that he never planned on getting involved with, the vanishing control over himself – and for the first time in a very long time he didn't try to push them away.
He suddenly realised that leaving tomorrow was going to be harder than ever before.
-
January 5th, 2013
Harry had this small, faded scar under his chin and it was so faint you couldn't see it unless you were inches away from his face.
Jasmine had notice this scar the first time he kissed her at the park, she'd brushed it and asked him why it was there – and his answer was a small laugh and a thoughtful expression, “chicken pox. When I was five. Forgot it’s there actually.”
Jasmine loved it. Loved how faint it was but yet will always be a permanent part of him.
She had stared at it the whole night last night, she’d brushed her hand over it again and again and again – even after he was asleep – childishly, pathetically wishing that her touch would linger there with him.
She didn’t sleep last night, not really, she couldn't even if she wanted to; he was so close, so real besides her – and she wanted to breathe him in, to be intoxicated by his impeccable presence, to be the one to have the contentment, the rightt of being able to touch him – It wouldn't stay this way for long now, Jasmine always knew.
She kept watching him and tried counting the lashes on his eyes and stroking his cheeks and lips with all the unexplained emotions she felt for him – and when she felt him stirred beneath her touch, leaning in to her as if he could feel it, Jasmine couldn’t take it anymore.
She bit her tongue and cursed to herself because damnit, she will not cry – she knew this was coming, knew it from the very beginning and she had promised herself that she will not cry.
So Jasmine didn’t cry.
She tried to pretend that there wasn’t a wall closing in between her lungs or her stomach – or her heart. She tried to pretend that it didn’t hurt and focused all of her attention on to that little scar under his chin.
She didn’t cry when she ran her fingers through his messy hair and heard him mumble her name softly.
She didn’t cry when she saw that the sun was almost up – sending her a reminder.
She didn’t cry when she put on her clothes and smelt his scent all over them.
She didn’t cry when she kissed his temple softly and remembered how hers was under his chin just moments ago.
And she didn’t cry when she brushed that little scar one last time before she walked to the door and closing it behind her – without so much as another glance at the sleeping figure on the bed.
-
Sam knew something was wrong the minute Jasmine entered their flat. She hugged Jasmine, in a way that best friends do, and Jasmine could feel her lips trembled even though she didn’t cry.
Taking a shower felt wrong because it meant washing off his scents; she had to do it though, for the sake of her sanity.
But it didn’t matter apparently – Jasmine forgot Harry had lingered on to her in more permanent ways; his burning skin, his ragged breath, his tender touch, his intoxicating lips, his heavy whimper – the wall around Jasmine’s chest kept squeezing and squeezing and squeezing and fuck, it hurt more than anything.
-
The day passed by rather blurry.
Their world was always apart so her routines stayed the same. Same classes, same friends, same assignments, same responsibilities – he was always hidden, always separated which was why Jasmine couldn’t understand why did it feel like there was a huge, gaping hole in everything she was doing?
She got to Renee’s a little later than usual; so she wouldn’t have time to watch the sunset and drink tea.
Jasmine neglected the tube and took a walk instead to the cafe; she planned things in her walks and it cleared her mind.
She planned on mopping the cafe’s floor first because she needed to keep her body moving, then probably she could clean the windows and change the menu board outside after that –
Jasmine’s plans were useless though because when she lifted her eyes to cross the road there Harry was, standing right in front of the cafe where she worked, his eyes fixed on her, bolting her to the ground.
Her mind went blank for a second then all thoughts came rushing in all at once – her breaths quickened and her chest tightened and Jasmine couldn’t form any other words other than his name.
“Harry,” it came out soft and strangled and broken. “Your flight – “
“Leaves in an hour,” was what he said as he cut her off. His tone harsher and his voice more hoarse than normal and Jasmine didn’t know what to say.
He did’t give her a smile or a cheeky grin or so much of a greeting – and Jasmine didn’t expect him to really but she didn’t expect him to be here when he got a flight to catch in an hour either.
“What are you – “
“Why'd you leave this morning?” He cut her off again and he looked so unhappy and exhausted and Jasmine’s chest tightened again because she wasn’t expecting the question he asked.
“And not answer any of my calls?” he asked again, his exhausted eyes never leaving hers and Jasmine could almost believe that he was maybe as miserable as she was – and Jasmine didn’t want that.
Jasmine had an answer with a billion reasons and yet when she finally found her voice she couldn’t look him in the eye.
“I just don’t want to make this harder Harry.”
She was prepared to do this. She knew this was going to happen and she was prepared.
But her voice betrayed her and gave a tiny crack and she could feel all of her faux defenses crumbling one by one when Harry reached to touch her.
There were a million things that needed to be explained. A million of unexplainable feelings and emotions that Harry needed to understand – and Jasmine tried so hard to put them into words so that he would just go and not miss his flight and Jasmine could just sit on the floor by herself because she knew this was coming and she was prepared, goddamnit, she was.
“It doesn’t have to be harder.”
Harry said softly, there was a crack in his voice too and Jasmine couldn’t really comprehend what he was really saying.
How? Jasmine wanted to ask, desperate and angry.
How could it not be harder? They were two different worlds from the beginning, fighting different battles and chasing different stars. He was bright and wonderful and beautiful and she was Jasmine – he was untouchable to her. She knew from the very start, and yet she still lingered on. Stupid girl who never listened to herself, that what Jasmine was.
How could it not be harder?
“Please,” Harry croaked, his eyes searching, sad and tired “Jasmine, we can try.”
“This is – I don’t – “ His voice cracked for the second time and Jasmine couldn't look away anymore, “I can’t walk away from you,” his voice was hoarse and deep and his hands finally found the courage to capture her face, begging her to look at him, “not after last night.”
He closed his eyes a moment after he said it – and Jasmine dare to believe that maybe he still felt it too; felt their burning flesh fusing into one and their ragged breath joining hungrily and their desperate, hopeless touches imprinting on one another – and when he opened his eyes again Jasmine saw how greengreengreen they were.
There were billion of reasons and excuses and problems and hurdles that Jasmine could list.
But instead of saying any of them Jasmine only clinged on to him instead. She took his face in her hands and touched his lips and stroked his cheeks and stared into his green, impeccable orbs and brushed that little scar under his chin, “okay,” she said, barely a whisper, “okay.”
Harry woke up that morning with the realisation that today was his last day in London for a while.
He had this so called rituals he always did before leaving for a very long tour; he called them his pre-leaving-for-tour rituals (Louis had appraised his intelligence for his obvious choice of words).
The first on the list was always to eat and sleep right two weeks prior the tour – this was originally management’s order and Harry had soon deemed it as golden as it was almost impossible to have descent meals and proper sleeps when he was on the road.
The second was to buy and pack his favorite scented candles from Holmes Chapel’s local store (yes, it had to be from Holmes Chapel) as many as possible (yes, everybody had told him that it was a little too feminine for a grown man to be fond of scented candles, but no, Harry did not care).
The third was to have lunch together with mum and Gemma – this was possibly the most important one because mum and Gemma gave him ace advices (put some lemons in your tea – they're always good for a sore throat and don’t stay up late all the time if you don’t want your asthma to keep coming back – mum, and buy more shoes you dork, your boots are an indecency – gemma).
The fourth one was to neglect packing until four hours before he had to take off; Harry found that packing under stress prevented him to pack unnecessary things. The fifth one is to clean his kitchen; throw away any food that had expiration date and any kinds of alcohol (Harry found that this prevented Nick to throw unexpected gatherings in his house while he was away).
A little past lunch time Harry had done ritual number one through ritual number four, all he needed to do then was to go home and clean his kitchen and he was ready to leave London for the next 12 months.
Except not really because Harry hadn’t gone to Rennee’s yet and without really realising it, he had added that into his pre-leaving-for-tour rituals.
They ended up cleaning his kitchen together, he and Jasmine, and instead of throwing away the half-finished bottle of wine in his kitchen cabinet they drank it together with the Chinese take out they had for dinner. At the end of the night Harry found himself slightly tipsy while laying his head on Jasmine’s lap, the tv flickering with old british comedy.
She was running her hands through his hair absent-mindedly and the combination between the sound of her slow breath and her faint heart beat and her gentle touch was taking him higher and higher and warmer and warmer and farther and farther away – it was the most intoxicating thing and Harry was mesmerised.
When it was well past midnight, he asked her to stay.
“Okay,”
Was what she said and even though she smiled, she looked solemn and sad and Harry suddenly felt the same way – even though he didn’t know why.
He looked at her and he touched her skin and he kissed her lips and he drank her impeccable presence until his mind was no longer coherent – and when she kissed him back Harry was drowning in desires he’d never had before.
Limbs tangled, breath taken away, touch after touch imprinted from one another – they were burning with passion and Harry had never felt anything as consumingly pure.
He held her close afterwards, so close until Harry could trace the faint freckles on her nose. He searched for her eyes.
“I’m going to miss you most Jasmee.”
He heard himself say, raspy and undone and completely out of his control – it was almost pathetic really.
She didn’t say anything back and merely nodded, but he noticed that her clear, transparent brown eyes were glossy.
Harry felt them that night: the shift of the steel walls around his heart, the force of attachment that he never planned on getting involved with, the vanishing control over himself – and for the first time in a very long time he didn't try to push them away.
He suddenly realised that leaving tomorrow was going to be harder than ever before.
-
January 5th, 2013
Harry had this small, faded scar under his chin and it was so faint you couldn't see it unless you were inches away from his face.
Jasmine had notice this scar the first time he kissed her at the park, she'd brushed it and asked him why it was there – and his answer was a small laugh and a thoughtful expression, “chicken pox. When I was five. Forgot it’s there actually.”
Jasmine loved it. Loved how faint it was but yet will always be a permanent part of him.
She had stared at it the whole night last night, she’d brushed her hand over it again and again and again – even after he was asleep – childishly, pathetically wishing that her touch would linger there with him.
She didn’t sleep last night, not really, she couldn't even if she wanted to; he was so close, so real besides her – and she wanted to breathe him in, to be intoxicated by his impeccable presence, to be the one to have the contentment, the rightt of being able to touch him – It wouldn't stay this way for long now, Jasmine always knew.
She kept watching him and tried counting the lashes on his eyes and stroking his cheeks and lips with all the unexplained emotions she felt for him – and when she felt him stirred beneath her touch, leaning in to her as if he could feel it, Jasmine couldn’t take it anymore.
She bit her tongue and cursed to herself because damnit, she will not cry – she knew this was coming, knew it from the very beginning and she had promised herself that she will not cry.
So Jasmine didn’t cry.
She tried to pretend that there wasn’t a wall closing in between her lungs or her stomach – or her heart. She tried to pretend that it didn’t hurt and focused all of her attention on to that little scar under his chin.
She didn’t cry when she ran her fingers through his messy hair and heard him mumble her name softly.
She didn’t cry when she saw that the sun was almost up – sending her a reminder.
She didn’t cry when she put on her clothes and smelt his scent all over them.
She didn’t cry when she kissed his temple softly and remembered how hers was under his chin just moments ago.
And she didn’t cry when she brushed that little scar one last time before she walked to the door and closing it behind her – without so much as another glance at the sleeping figure on the bed.
-
Sam knew something was wrong the minute Jasmine entered their flat. She hugged Jasmine, in a way that best friends do, and Jasmine could feel her lips trembled even though she didn’t cry.
Taking a shower felt wrong because it meant washing off his scents; she had to do it though, for the sake of her sanity.
But it didn’t matter apparently – Jasmine forgot Harry had lingered on to her in more permanent ways; his burning skin, his ragged breath, his tender touch, his intoxicating lips, his heavy whimper – the wall around Jasmine’s chest kept squeezing and squeezing and squeezing and fuck, it hurt more than anything.
-
The day passed by rather blurry.
Their world was always apart so her routines stayed the same. Same classes, same friends, same assignments, same responsibilities – he was always hidden, always separated which was why Jasmine couldn’t understand why did it feel like there was a huge, gaping hole in everything she was doing?
She got to Renee’s a little later than usual; so she wouldn’t have time to watch the sunset and drink tea.
Jasmine neglected the tube and took a walk instead to the cafe; she planned things in her walks and it cleared her mind.
She planned on mopping the cafe’s floor first because she needed to keep her body moving, then probably she could clean the windows and change the menu board outside after that –
Jasmine’s plans were useless though because when she lifted her eyes to cross the road there Harry was, standing right in front of the cafe where she worked, his eyes fixed on her, bolting her to the ground.
Her mind went blank for a second then all thoughts came rushing in all at once – her breaths quickened and her chest tightened and Jasmine couldn’t form any other words other than his name.
“Harry,” it came out soft and strangled and broken. “Your flight – “
“Leaves in an hour,” was what he said as he cut her off. His tone harsher and his voice more hoarse than normal and Jasmine didn’t know what to say.
He did’t give her a smile or a cheeky grin or so much of a greeting – and Jasmine didn’t expect him to really but she didn’t expect him to be here when he got a flight to catch in an hour either.
“What are you – “
“Why'd you leave this morning?” He cut her off again and he looked so unhappy and exhausted and Jasmine’s chest tightened again because she wasn’t expecting the question he asked.
“And not answer any of my calls?” he asked again, his exhausted eyes never leaving hers and Jasmine could almost believe that he was maybe as miserable as she was – and Jasmine didn’t want that.
Jasmine had an answer with a billion reasons and yet when she finally found her voice she couldn’t look him in the eye.
“I just don’t want to make this harder Harry.”
She was prepared to do this. She knew this was going to happen and she was prepared.
But her voice betrayed her and gave a tiny crack and she could feel all of her faux defenses crumbling one by one when Harry reached to touch her.
There were a million things that needed to be explained. A million of unexplainable feelings and emotions that Harry needed to understand – and Jasmine tried so hard to put them into words so that he would just go and not miss his flight and Jasmine could just sit on the floor by herself because she knew this was coming and she was prepared, goddamnit, she was.
“It doesn’t have to be harder.”
Harry said softly, there was a crack in his voice too and Jasmine couldn’t really comprehend what he was really saying.
How? Jasmine wanted to ask, desperate and angry.
How could it not be harder? They were two different worlds from the beginning, fighting different battles and chasing different stars. He was bright and wonderful and beautiful and she was Jasmine – he was untouchable to her. She knew from the very start, and yet she still lingered on. Stupid girl who never listened to herself, that what Jasmine was.
How could it not be harder?
“Please,” Harry croaked, his eyes searching, sad and tired “Jasmine, we can try.”
“This is – I don’t – “ His voice cracked for the second time and Jasmine couldn't look away anymore, “I can’t walk away from you,” his voice was hoarse and deep and his hands finally found the courage to capture her face, begging her to look at him, “not after last night.”
He closed his eyes a moment after he said it – and Jasmine dare to believe that maybe he still felt it too; felt their burning flesh fusing into one and their ragged breath joining hungrily and their desperate, hopeless touches imprinting on one another – and when he opened his eyes again Jasmine saw how greengreengreen they were.
There were billion of reasons and excuses and problems and hurdles that Jasmine could list.
But instead of saying any of them Jasmine only clinged on to him instead. She took his face in her hands and touched his lips and stroked his cheeks and stared into his green, impeccable orbs and brushed that little scar under his chin, “okay,” she said, barely a whisper, “okay.”
♠ ♠ ♠
whew! Stayed up all night writing this, hope it turned out okay!Again, sorry for the long wait but I hope you enjoy nevertheless :)
I have a new work in progress called Anna's Perfection - I've been working really hard on this and I'm planning on updating it once a week (though I'm already lacking one week) soo feel free to check it out!
Also, feel free to comment, criticize or even say hello! here on on my tumblr page: wordsgateaway.tumblr.com
Thaaanks for reading! :)