I carry all I need to grow inside - give me light, give me warmth
It's bliss. The entire thing; the gentle sound of waves against sand, the sun warming their skin, the slight taste of salt as their lips meet, the way her hands come to cling around his shoulders. Harper doesn't even think of taking it farther - not because he's opposed to the idea, but because he doesn't want to taint the perfect innocence of this one moment with lustful ideals. He pulls away reluctantly, letting their lips continue to touch and connect and tilting his nose to brush against her own before he slowly withdraws. His own cheeks are surely as red as her own. Harper is admittedly less experienced than her in terms of how many people he has been with, having devoted himself to his beloved from the start and never accepting any interested parties after her death. He may be experienced in the bedroom, but only with one person, whose likes and dislikes may be complete opposites to Phoebe. But he hopes she doesn't mind, that he hasn't disappointed her with this kiss somehow.
"Thank you," he murmurs again against her lips as he pulls away fully. Because truly, it had been more of a gift for Harper than the other way around, which makes him feel a little selfish. "I said that if you wanted to, we could talk after. We still can, if you want. Unless you want to focus more on your birthday, which I'll understand as well." His smile comes back at this, knowing he has thrown her quite a curveball. The hand cradling her head slips to smooth her hair back, feeling like he's full of restless energy now with no proper outlet. Wanting to touch, to cherish, but knowing that words must come first.
"Thank you," he murmurs again against her lips as he pulls away fully. Because truly, it had been more of a gift for Harper than the other way around, which makes him feel a little selfish. "I said that if you wanted to, we could talk after. We still can, if you want. Unless you want to focus more on your birthday, which I'll understand as well." His smile comes back at this, knowing he has thrown her quite a curveball. The hand cradling her head slips to smooth her hair back, feeling like he's full of restless energy now with no proper outlet. Wanting to touch, to cherish, but knowing that words must come first.
and watch me come alive
