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You can hear it in the silence

You can feel it on the way home

You can see it with the lights out


You haven’t said it.

He’s lying on the grass beside you. The air is chilly and the grass is damp, but you’re so close you’re almost touching and you can feel the heat from his body. You’re comfortable. You’ve never been so comfortable.

You’ve been out here for ages, staring at the stars. Talking occasionally, but mostly just enjoying each other’s company, and taking in the beauty of the sky. It’s dark here and the sky is clear. You’ve never seen so many stars before.

You hear him breathing, slow and steady, and you almost laugh because it’s so unlike him. He’s always on, always moving, always going, always doing something unexpected. But right now he’s lying on the grass and watching the stars with you.

You tilt your head to the side to take in his profile. It’s dark, of course, but you can see it. Messy hair, small forehead, glasses, long nose, pointed chin. You look a bit longer and you can make out his expression: it’s calm, serene, peaceful. You smile.

You haven’t said it. But you know.

He senses you watching him and tilts his own head toward you. He grins his famous, lopsided, goofy James Potter grin and you cannot help but grin back. There’s a dimple on his left cheek, his teeth are slightly crooked and the stars are nothing compared to him.

He shifts his body so he’s on his side, facing you completely. He moves his top hand and brushes a piece of hair away from your face. His fingers are gentle on your skin, and the tips are soft, though you know the palms are hard and calloused. He lingers there, touching your face like a feather, and acting as if he removed it, he might never get to touch it again.

He’s stopped grinning now, but he’s still smiling. His eyes are sparkling.

He removes his hand for a moment and you move to your side as well. The movement knocks your hair out of place and gladly pushes it back.

He hasn’t said it.

He moves his hand from your hair to your shoulder down your arm until it rests on your hip. Your legs are touching now and soon they’ll end up tangled together. You’re aching to touch him, so you lift your hand to his hair and thread your fingers through it.

“Careful, Evans,” he says. “You’ll mess it up.”

He’s grinning again.

You lift yourself from the ground, and with both hands muss his hair as much as possible.

“Hey!” he objects, and you fall to your back laughing. “It’s not funny! Do you know how long it takes me to do my hair in the morning?”

“Twenty-seven and a half minutes,” you say through your laughter. “And every single one of them wasted.”

“Oi! My hair is perfect, thank you.” You laugh harder. “You think that’s funny?” he asks. You can’t reply before he begins to tickle you and you laugh even harder.

He continues until there are tears of mirth in your eyes and then leans down and kisses you gently on the mouth.

He hasn’t said it. But you know.

You sigh wistfully as he pulls away and sits up. You join him after a moment and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around you, and you move closer to his core.

The air is cold, but his warmth envelops you. The night is dark, but the stars seem to shine a little brighter.

You haven’t said it, but you know.

You are in love.


 





Italics are lyrics from You Are In Love by Taylor Swift. 

 

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