Beautiful.
Silvery blonde hair cascading down her back, a bright smile adorning her features. He could’ve sworn the temperature rose several degrees in her presence.
He loved her presence. Private smiles, muted laughs, secrets scarcely spoken, moments suspended in time, like so many snowflakes in her hair.
Shining white and pure, unsullied by worries, fears, doubts. This moment would always be theirs. Always theirs.
Whispers in the distance, poking at his conscious, threatening their cocoon of bliss.
Wrong. Sin.
Stolen kisses underneath the willow tree, her lips bittersweet. Love, lust, guilt, regret mixed together into a heady cocktail.
Addicting.
He held her close, wrapping his arms around her front, warding off the whispers and the chill of the early morning, trading whispers and laughs, her hair tickling his face as she turned towards him. Her face flushed from the cold, sky blue eyes alight with joy, and yet marred by shadows; fear, guilt, sadness.
A hand raised; dainty fingers tracing patterns on his cheek.
“‘Arry…”
“Fleur…”
“I am sorry.”
Beautiful.
Taken.