note: big booty bitches, big booty bitches (songs that remind me of louis part 1)
The next morning was...silent. I woke up and felt the steady rise and fall of Harry's muscular chest. My palm rested on his warm, tatted skin.
I peered up at him, finding his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed. The very usual. Gradually, I began to think about last night, and I sighed and closed my tired eyes.
Then I opened them again. I let my finger trace his collarbones as gently as I could without disturbing him.
He would be there whenever I tried climbing that tree. The memories were hazy, but with a scar on my waist it was inevitable to remember. I didn't know he was the one that carried me back whenever I fell and put myself to sleep with my idiotic actions.
I wanted so much from him, but I never once thought that this could be excruciatingly hard for him. That this change in his character would affect him a lot. And I was both selfish and stupid for not realizing first.
I was so convinced that he was just heartless and emotionless, a sociopath even, that I forgot he's human. Even though he simply hates showing his emotions, he is capable of hiding them too well.
Now I'm even capable of having trouble trusting him. I love him, but in ways I can't trust him. It makes my stomach sick. I can't just simply decide, so I choose to ignore it.
My lips kissed the skin of his neck gently. Then his cheek, the hinge of his jaw, and lastly his right temple. I cuddled closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder and bringing my leg over his waist. I just wanted to feel him next to me, and I thought out that maybe I could afford to be less irritating to him.
"Are you cuddling me?" His husky, raspy voice question me slowly. I was used to his sudden attentiveness, so I briefly nodded and brought my arm over his collarbones. He was silent for a moment until he sighed tiredly and murmured, "I allow it."
I don't know why, but the way he had said it made me laugh. So approvingly and impressed. He sounded like a teacher approving a research topic.
"What's funny?"
"You," I chuckled. "Maybe you just like it."
"I suppose it's kind of relaxing," he scolds. "But that doesn't mean I like it."
My smile never fades when I ask, "You sure?"
"I'm sure," he snaps, and as he says this his arm comes around my body. He begins to hold me.
To me, this is perfect. My stomach churns with excitement and love. I'm so content in this moment I can't stop from running my hands through his hair and peppering small, loving kisses right beneath his jaw.
He lets his hand roam my back. I continue to kiss his skin until my lips finally fall to his. My gestures are sweet, loving, and caring. Three things Harry always seemed to lack. In between kisses, he mutters, "I allow this, too."
He deepens the touch of our lips. I don't resist when he hovers over my body, both of our bodies beneath the sheet as his strong arms slip behind me. He seems to cradle my body, offering his affection. My hands caress his jaw.
Then they slowly cross his shoulders and the warmth of his back. I sigh into his slow, hard kisses. It doesn't last very long.
Because he pulls away and rasps, "I would enjoy having you all to myself right now. But I can't. There are things that I have to do. And unfortunately, baby, you're not one of them."
I am frozen when he kissed my lips and began to go off into the bathroom. His words make my cheeks turn a bright pink, and I sigh and turn over on my side, now in the lonely space of the bed. I hear the sink run and later the shower.
Minutes later he reappears with a towel around his waist. I peek at him with the side of my head against the pillow. He is silent as he goes through his bags and pulls out something of the ordinary, black.
I'm watching the way he dries himself, his bare body turned from my sight. The ink on his skin, the tiny water droplets falling from his damp hair, and the muscles of his back.
He's then dressed almost fully, turning around just as he begins to button up his black shirt. I watch him with no regret, and he glances at me when he's finished.
He runs a hand through his drying hair, and walks forward in my direction. I only watch him when he strokes my hair. He doesn't say anything, and I don't either. He's looking into my eyes, and I look up into his. I feel as if this is almost an exchange of our familiar words.
His would have been something along the lines of being careful. Mine would have been an 'okay' or a nod. But because we don't speak, through my eyes, I'm allowed to tell him I love you.
A knock followed by Liam's voice is what breaks this moment. Harry looks at the door and then back to me. He soon leaves after that, and I continue to wonder in the sheets.
+
They were gathered together in my father's office, discussing whatever they had to. While I was in the kitchen eating my fright away, reading to fill the void, and laying around and trying to sleep it off.
Yet, there wasn't a thing I could do when I rather be in there, too. Knowing what's happening instead of having to figure it out myself.
I had the urge to listen into what they were saying. Maybe to clear up some confusion on my part. If I stood outside, there would be a chance that they could just open the door or I'd fuck something up, because I know myself.
With a sigh, I walked up the stairs. This time, I was quick to think. I didn't pass his office. Instead, I walked until I was at the door to the room next to it. My lip was taken between my teeth as I opened the door slowly, and once inside, I closed it slowly.
Just like I hoped, there was a vent in the corner of the room I was in.
My father liked to smoke cigarettes in his office, but he'd never open the windows. So the vent would suck up the smoke, blow it into the room I stood in now, that did have open windows.
I locked the door and quietly approached the vent. Their voices were faint, but if I moved closer I could hear them. I gently sat next to it, ears straining to her what they were saying. My breathing was even held in to be able to hear over it.
"Why would he do that?" A voice that sounded like Zayn's questioned. "Why would he purposely make you do that?"
"He said she wouldn't be happy if I didn't. That he wanted to end it."
A chair moves. "Then why didn't you do it when you were supposed to!?"
"Listen," Harry's voice was livid. "I'm telling you this so you could be on my side, but if you dare fucking go against me, I'll kill you myself."
Zayn scoffs. "It's because you're in fucking love with her, that's why. You chose her over the job you swore with your life you'd always remain loyal to."
"Hey," Liam snapped. "Both of you, shut the fuck up. It's none of your business, Zayn, if he cares for her."
"Look at him. He's not even denying it."
"Why would I deny it if it's true?"
"I said fucking shut up!" Liam shouts, the tone of his voice absolutely agitated and furious. "We've got bigger problems. I understand why Zayn's upset. You should've fucking did what you were told, not risk everything in your fucking being for her. It was an order. You know what happens when you don't follow orders."
Harry lowly says, "It's not a big deal. I did what I could, but I know what's coming."
"He's going to kill you, Harry," Zayn breathes.
"I know."
"What? All because of what?" Liam spits out, knowing the answer.
"Because I couldn't kill her."
note:
w e l l
d a m n
thanks for reading. I also have some random fanfic i made a trailer for and it's called "Game" and you can watch it on the story in my profile if you're interested. peace out, girl scouts ^.^
if you're really confused (which i'm sure there is confusion) don't worry you'll find out.