Possibly the start to a fic, if I ever get the muse to do it. Not even sure who the characters were that I originally wrote it for, but it's quite James/Lily so.. Characters don't belong to me if I ever write this. I wouldn't be publishing on if they were.
He could still hear the sound of her sleeping.
It was the sound of sheets rustling over her legs that wouldn't stay still even when she was dreaming. There was how her soft breath skimmed over his skin, tickling where his neck met his shoulder as she exhaled. Occasionally, her sleeping form would mumble to accompany her fidgeting. He fancied she dreamt of running.
She'd always said she could never run fast enough, but perhaps she could in her dreams.
He didn't sleep much the night she stayed. He had shut his eyes and slowed his breathing but his senses craved this part of her. He loved seeing her with her walls down, stroking the curved of her shoulder while she was lost in her own world. Just once, she'd spoken his name.
That had been the moment he'd known he was done for. The sun had crept through the window and lit up her face. She'd tucked it into his chest, her body moving into his. He'd held her.
Once, she'd kissed him. Just once.
Her mind replayed the moment almost constantly. There had been no romantic setting, no declarations of love and generally very few theatrics.
There hadn't been fireworks. There had been an earthquake.
Her world had been jolted with the kind of ferocity only passion could create. It had been toppled and rearranged. Underneath the destruction and chaos, she had crouched. From there she had emerged, using his hand as a guide. He'd been shaken too. Their worlds would never be the same.
Before they could speak words, she had run away.
When they first met, neither of them realised their lives were ever part of any great plan. Neither of them liked politics, he drank coffee while she preferred tea and she definitely couldn't stand the way he never untied his shoes before he took them off.
In truth, they were not special to anyone except each other. They weren't even that yet.
But he liked her smile.
She liked his sarcasm.
When they'd introduced themselves, she'd confessed she always forgot names. He said he didn't mind.
The second time they met, he introduced himself again before she even spoke. She'd never forgotten his name anyway.
They both liked strawberry ice cream.
Neither of them had been in love yet.
Yet.
