remedia amoris.
something in the way she moves
“Darling, we absolutely must go–”
“Just five more minutes, I don’t think it’ll be very wise of me to go to work right now… I would just fall asleep on my desk. That would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes but we very well can’t spend the entire day asleep–”
“I don’t see you trying to leave… You could’ve thrown me off ages ago.”
All entwined, warm with lazy smiles and soft touches; she pressed her cheek against her boyfriend’s bare chest with a certain determination. A determination not to let her eyes stray to the clock above her bedroom door. Song Yixing had been trying ( and failing ) to persuade her to start her day– in order for him to start his. But it was a dreary Thursday in cloudy London, and after a late night meeting ( and the fact that her boyfriend didn’t let her sleep until much, much later ), Roseanne Park felt decidedly not ready to head down to study dusty parchments. Not when she could lay in bed and study something entirely different altogether.
Golden hair glowing bright in the early morning light like a halo above her head, she traced small constellations on his arm, lining long fingers with featherlight touches. Like this, in their quiet little space, she wouldn’t dream of being parted from him. Perhaps it was the blissful haze of a relatively new relationship, or perhaps it was the love coursing through pulsing hearts – but she had never quite felt this happy. Not even curled up under a blanket on top of the astronomy tower, Venus glowing above their heads, with Ovid on their lips.
“But I do have something to tell you,” She murmured, this time with an apprehensive edge in her voice. Roseanne blinked up to focus on his dark eyes, almost immediately assured.
“Mhm?”
“Mum called last night, she wants to know if you’d like to come round for tea on Sunday….”
Silence.
Rose could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat under her cheek, and she knew just how fast his mind was whirring with one scenario or another; proposing several different choices of excuses, should he need them. But she propped herself on her front, crossing pale arms on top of his chest as she placed her chin on level with his. In her innocent mind, she believed that a sincere request accompanied by a few kisses might be enough to persuade him to relent.
“You know I tell them about you all the time! And you spoke to mum that one time on the phone when I was in the loo–”
“Yes darling, well it would be quite different meeting them in person.”
His voice shook slightly, and she could not help but to think it terribly adorable. The great adventurer Song Yixing, Slytherin Quidditch Team Captain, shook a little under the weight of her words. She smiled prettily under the soft glow through the small crack of her silver curtains, poking the space where his secret dimple lay hidden.
“Oh you know they’ll love you. They’re my parents, they have to.”
“Perhaps because they’re your parents, they would be inclined to think that their little princess deserves better…”
With a raise of her eyebrow, Roseanne blushed soft pink at the word ‘princess’ for what ever inexplicable reason.
“Better than you?” She asked softly, not willing to break their quiet space.
He frowned a little, a little mark marring the small space between his brows, and she could not help but to lean forwards to softly kiss the offending spot. Honestly, she could not think why one would not fall in love with him on the spot– and in moments of clarity, small bouts of courage prompted her to make her feelings clear.
“No one is better than you.”
And she believes those words implicitly, not in the innocently naive trusting way she used to in her teens – but in the loving belief that she had seen enough of the world ( and had known enough about herself ) to trust in her own opinions. Of course, it didn’t stop the all too familiar pink glow to spread across pale cheeks, deep and awfully warm. She could do nothing but clear her throat and try her best to not fluster her boyfriend even further.
“Is that so?”
A slow smile accompanied his rumbling low tone; Rose bit her lip as an effort not to giggle out loud. She tried her best not to look too effected by that secret smile, the one that always left her heart in stuttering in its wake.
“Mhm.” She answered quickly, forcing an easy smile across her lips. “All you have to do is convince them of it.”
The Smile stiffened.
“… Do your parents prefer red or white?” He paused, brows furrowing once more as dark eyes flitted across the room. “That’s a stupid question, it depends on what we’re eating–”
“Scones, darling!” She laughed, kissing his collarbone once before rolling off him and sitting up, stretching pale fingers to the ceiling and letting her head tilt back with a satisfied little sigh.
Oversized white shirt riding up bare legs, she patted his knee once and jumped off their bed, expertly dodging a stack of poetry books by the foot of the bed. Honey eyes flickering back to him over her shoulder, she felt her heart swell with prolonged happiness at the sight of him on her bed, disheveled dark hair and all. Her heart swelled with the thought that he was all hers.
“I’ll ring and say that we’ll be there in our Sunday best after breakfast–”
“Rosie– darling…”
“Hm?”
She turned to find him all flushed around the ears, the slow smile back on his face as he raised a hand to beckon her to him. He looked so soft underneath the early morning light – with half-lidded eyes and pretty parted lips – that Rose paused by the door, eyes willing him to continue.
“C’mere sweetling, come back to bed for a little bit.”
“But i have to start getting ready and breakfast still needs to–”
“Get back in bed right now so I can distract you.”
A chime of laughter, a smile riddled in disbelief – Roseanne Park pretended to be exasperated for a fleeting second before relenting ( far too quickly ) and claimed her spot on the bed by his side. Lazy kisses and soft touches resumed, as if they had all the time in the world to stretch love into countless Thursday mornings.
With cold fingers entwined, they decided with an exchange of sweet little smiles that pressing matters of the real world had no place between their tangled sheets.