She was so wrapped up in his bedsheets that he would have missed her, had it not been for the years of training to notice even the slightest flash of her hair anywhere in his periphery.
Pausing in the doorway, he just stands and watches her. She's turned away from him, he can make out the curve of her shoulder in the dim light. The covers are almost pulled up over her head fully, wild strands of her hair spilling out, catching in the light streaming in from his living room.
He watches the slight rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes. His heart aches in his chest as he realises that he can't actually hear her breathing at all, which means she isn't asleep. It means she heard him unlock the door and kick his shoes off, dumping his stuff on the couch. She hadn't turned to face him as he neared, which meant she didn't want to speak right now.
He knew times were tough for her at work at the moment, Faye was breathing down her neck and driving her crazy and he knew as little she let on how stressed she was, inside she was probably a lot worse.
He'd seen her upset before at work – a voice wobble, a choked-back sob, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, a stunned silence - but they still had kept their distance. He had never been able to wrap his arms around her, press her face into his chest and tell her everything was going to be okay.
Harvey usually just settled for telling her that he would fix whatever was wrong.
For the most part though, Donna had the remarkable ability to made it look like she was unwavering and strong. Which she was. He knew that she would ride into battle for him in a heartbeat, he'd known that for years. But what he also knew was that it was something she had trained herself to be, out of necessity rather than just evolving into who she was.
Over the past few weeks of getting to know Donna as a girlfriend, he was starting to see the differences from Donna, just his best friend.
Donna his best friend - had bad days. She would go to an audition in the morning and see another woman wearing the same shirt as her and would convince herself it was a bad omen. She would obviously still nail the audition while her brain was in overdrive overthinking every line, then would grab the largest coffee known to man on the way to the office, stalk into his office and dramatically faint on to his couch claiming, "This may be the worst day of my life." All before 9am. Forgetting the fact that she had uttered the same exact thing the day before when she had stood in dog shit getting out of the taxi in her new pair of shoes. He would sit amused, fingers pausing over his keyboard and glance at her, her eyes squeezed shut and he would make some jibe about her actually still needing to do some work even if the entire world was coming to an end. And she would put a little, but still head to her desk and make it through the rest of the day. He had never known what she was like when she went home when all the bad days became a little too frequent.
Donna his girlfriend though - was having bad days now because of the constant barrage of things that they were dodging at work and it wasn't as much of a fanfare as he'd seen before. He knew how difficult it was for her to really let people see that she wasn't always on the top of her game and in control. He also knew that if she really wanted to, she could have gone home tonight and sent him a text about having a headache and she would see him tomorrow.
But they had agreed they weren't going to do that. So she had chosen him, she had chosen to let him in - them in - and to open up to him.
He walks noiselessly towards the bed, choosing not to shatter the silence by saying something. He slips on top of the covers behind her, lying on his side as his arm comes to curve around her body and loosely lands on her stomach. He feels her exhale and shift backwards into his body. Tightening his hold on her, he props himself up on his elbow, cautiously trying to see her face in the dark, but it was still mostly covered by her curtain of hair and his sheet.
They lay in the quiet for awhile. Harvey tries to send her telepathic messages asking if she's okay without uttering anything, his thumb making little circle indentations on her as their hearts sync into one heartbeat.
Finally, she sniffs. "Long day," she croaks, half-muffled by the fabric.
He shifts forward, resting his head on her shoulder, his chin in the crook of her neck.
"Are you alright?", he breathes, the hand resting on her squeezing slightly.
She hums, and turns on to her back, finally illuminating her face. He pulls back slightly to give her some space, the slight shine of tears on her cheeks shines at him, and he could swear his heart felt like it had been caught in a vice. She stares at the ceiling, not risking a glance at him for fear of opening up the floodgates.
He leans forward and kisses her cheek, tasting wet saltiness mixed with whatever it was that was just pure Donna. His arm pulls her closer than she had been before, his hand locking around her waist. He kisses her cheek again and nuzzles his face into hers, his nose and jaw filling the empty space between her chin and collarbone.
He's not sure how long they lie like that. Every now and again he feels her body start to shake as the tears start again, only to stop a few seconds later, like she's willing herself to stop.
"You can cry if you want to, Donna," he whispers, "I've got you."
She inhales and scrunches up her face and just lets herself cry. She lets herself cry for every second she's had lately where she wants to but can't for fear of what people will think of her, in case someone stumbles into the bathroom as she's fixing her mascara afterwards. She lets herself cry for the unfairness of everything, of finally getting what she thought she never could and having something come along and just taint their happiness with stress.
She lies there and cries, with his hand stroking her side and his whispers and kisses keeping her safe.