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February

Somehow, I had grown accustom to seeing Harry’s face when I awoke over those past few days. It was familiar, even comforting, in a strange way. Since Monday, every day that I had woken, Harry had been there too. Waking up without him there, was rubbish. And fuck, I felt awful.

Memories of the evening before slipped easily back into my mind, and I cringed right away. One, because of the whole drug thing, which was so out of character for me I could barely believe it. I didn’t regret it or anything, it was just weird. I then thought about the near kiss between myself and Harry. I wasn’t even sure it could count as a near kiss. What it was, I decided, was Harry being the lad he was. He hadn’t wanted to kiss me, he just wanted to know that I would kiss him. He just wanted to fuel his ego. Of course he did. It was fucking Harry for god sake. I might have had a slight change of heart towards him over the week we had spent in his hometown, but he remained the same boy I knew at university. The worst part, for me, was that it had worked. I was so in that moment. If Harry had opted to close that gap between us, then I would have kissed him, and I would have kissed him hard. God knows why, but I would have. No doubt in my mind. But during the aftermath, I felt completely ridiculous. Especially waking up and seeing he wasn’t even there with me. “Just don’t mention it.” I whispered to myself. “Just pretend none of it ever happened. Don’t even give him the satisfaction.” I got out of bed with an ache in my back and my head, cursing to myself, still my outfit from the night before, which I figured needed to change pretty quickly. I went over to my suitcase on the floor near the window and routed for the most comfortable looking thing I could find, settling on some fluffy pants and a long-sleeved crop-top. I got changed in a hurry, and then opened Harry’s bedroom door, cautiously sticking my head out of the gap, hearing a sizzling sound coming from downstairs. It was time to face the music. I tried to act as confidently as I physically could as I walked down to him and into the kitchen, acting completely nonchalant, but internally, I was freaking out. I had never been good at acting normal in such situations, not that anything like that had ever presented itself before. Even so, I knew I would be no good at dealing with it. Harry was stood facing the oven, as sausages sizzled on the hob. A jumper he had worn whenever we were in his home relaxing over the week had been carelessly abandoned next to the sink, leaving his torso completely on show, butterfly tattoo and all. It was like he did it on purpose. He probably did. “Mornin’.” I was proud of myself for speaking first. Very proud. He whipped his head around, smiling like an idiot. “Hey!” He chirped. “I was gunna bring you breakfast in bed.” “I’m terrible at eating on a hangover.” I complained, sitting down. “This isn’t a hangover though, this is a comedown. And trust me, you’re gunna appreciate this sausage butty more than you’ve ever appreciated any meal in your life.” It would seem, Harry was choosing to ignore the evening before, too. I guess I was happy with that. Not acknowledging whatever the hell had happened between us that night was much easier than admitting it. Harry probably had a great sense of achievement thanks to the fact I had caved to him so easily, that’s probably why he was in such a good mood. But as long as he didn’t mention it, that was okay. I guess. Maybe not. I didn’t know. My head was a mess, but I was more than willing to pretend it wasn’t. “You sure? I’ve gone the whole week without throwing up and I don’t want to do it now. We’re heading back tomorrow and I’m really proud that I’ve managed.” “You won’t vomit, I promise.” He chuckled. “And if you do I’m going to take is as a personal offense.” “Okay.” Harry moved to the tall cupboard next to him and grabbed out a loaf of bed and threw it to me, before going into the fridge and getting butter and ketchup out, throwing them too. Thankfully, I caught everything. “Will you butter some bread?” “I should have stayed in bed.” I sighed, grabbing the loaf. “You should.” He laughed, going back to the sausages. “Can you grab the mayonnaise?” I asked. “Mayo on a sausage butty? You’re sick in the head, woman!” “Don’t knock it til you try it.” I told him. Our teamwork was perfect. As soon as Harry was done with the hob, the bread had been buttered and I had gotten out two plates, and grabbed the mayo myself since Harry was so disgusted with the mere idea of it. Although there were four seat option, Harry plonked himself on the chair right next to me as we tucked in, his tense arm brushing against mine, my eyes wandering down to his body for a brief second before I went back to my food, trying to ignore his tan and his frame and that bloody tattoo, which I had once thought was a mess, and I now thought was ridiculously nice. “How you feeling?” He asked. “I just feel exhausted.” I said after swallowing a bite. “I think I was so awake and eager last night after taking the... stuff... it’s taken all of today’s energy out of me.” “So innocent, Pip-Squeak.” He mocked. “Fuck off.” I rolled my eyes. I felt this sudden urge to say something about what happened. Don’t ask me why. There isn’t a logical explanation as to why on earth I would ever want to bring up Harry rejecting me in the way he had. It was one of the rashest and most misguided ideas that had ever entered my stupid little mind, so I just kept my idiotic mouth shut on the matter. I mentioned something else, quickly. “What’s your tattoo about?” Still chewing, he looked down to the bug on his stomach like he had to look at it to remember what it was, what it meant to him, why he had gotten the creature scarred to his skin for the rest of his life. He took a deep breath in, but then just shrugged. “It’s just a butterfly.” I felt like he was lying, which I found a little bizarre since we had been so open with each other all week, but maybe the butterfly meant more to him than just a story, more to him than something he could just utter out in one sentence. Maybe it was too much, maybe the feeling was too much, the sentiment was too much. Then again, maybe it was just a butterfly. “Do you want more?” I asked him, still eating as he finished up. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet. Worries me a little, with jobs and everything.” “But you want to be a photographer?” “Yeah well, I’m a realist. It’s what I want to do, but that might not be how things pan out. It’s risky, innit?” “Well, let that be your drive. Cover yourself in as many tattoos as you fucking want so your only option is to do exactly what you want. Be you. Do your thing.” “Easy to say that.” He huffed. “Not as simple when it comes down to it. What do you wanna be, anyway?” “When I grow up?” I gulped, nervous about even the idea of it. “When you’re older. You’re already grown up.” He smiled, looking down to me. “In a couple of years, you’re going to laugh at yourself, for thinking eighteen is grown up.” “Are you trying to avoid the question?” He smirked. “When’s your birthday?” “You’re trying to avoid the question.” “So are you.” By that point we were staring into one another’s eyes so intensely, like this little fuelled conversation was a competition and I wanted to win. I also really didn’t want to talk about my future plans, since the whole thing was a blur. “My birthdays on March the third.” He bit quickly. “Are you kidding?” I gawped. “No. What about that was funny?” “That’s my birthday!” I yelped. “Are you serious?” His eyes went wide. “I’m deadly serious!” “What the fuck!” We were both so impressed by the benign fact for some reason, but it just felt so strange, because during the past week, we had realised how weirdly similar we were, and that was just another thing on the list of oddities. Suddenly I grinned wide. “We’re gunna have the best party ever.” I said proudly. “Damn right.” Harry grinned and looked me up and down, before getting to his feet again, clearing up our plates and taking them over to the dishwasher, seeing it was full to the brim. Harry was very displeased that he would have to wash them by hand. “So, what do you want to do when you’re older?” He refused to drop it. “Honestly?” “No, lie to me. Of course honestly, you idiot.” “I don’t know what I want to do.” “What about photography?” He said, running some water. “I’ve spent almost a year trying to just forget about photography altogether.” “Why?” “I just don’t want to let my family down. My mum and dad would be so disappointed if I did anything like that.” “I don’t think they would.” He sighed. I hated discussing it. I knew I needed to grow up and just get over it, but the whole topic just made me so uncomfortable. It wasn’t even worth discussing. It was done. “You’ve never even met my parents, Harry.” “No, I know, but… I just think they didn’t want you to study it an uni because they worry about you. It’s hardly a fall-back subject, is it? They probably wanted you to do something a little more… sturdy, if that makes sense. I don’t think it means they don’t want you to take photos full stop.” Harry didn’t know my parents. Harry hadn’t heard the discouraging words. Harry hadn’t seen the disappointment in their eyes or heard the doubt in their voices. Bless him, for trying, but there was no point. He turned around, waiting for an answer, but I couldn’t give him one. I just shrugged. One of the things I liked about Harry, was that he knew not to push it. He might have tried to get me to talk about something I was clearly not all that happy talking about, but he wasn’t about to force the conversation down my throat until I was choking on it. He knew I was done. So he didn’t say anything else about it. Instead, he let out a little chuckle, and said, “I can’t believe we have the same birthday.” + + + It’s impossible to feel wide awake on a Sunday. You could have had the best night’s sleep ever, it doesn’t matter. On a Sunday, you’re bound to be completely worn out. It doesn’t matter the circumstances. Sunday’s are made for being exhausted. It was barely 6pm, and Harry was nodding off, stretched out on the opposite sofa to me in his living room. He had the jumper he had abandoned earlier now loose on his body, denim shorts on, and thick, fluffy socks. He was stretched across the whole thing, and I couldn’t help but watch as his eyes kept dropping shut, trying his best to watch the tele but absolutely failing. A couple of minutes later, he was done, his eyes not opening anymore. I smiled, because he seemed so peaceful. I wondered, for a moment, if we would go back to uni and not be so close anymore, if he would annoy me again. I couldn’t imagine it, it was just seeing him at home felt so different. All week, it hadn’t mattered that I was there. He had been completely at home, completely relaxed, a sense of tranquillity and serenity. It wasn’t like he had a guest there. I was glad of that. It’s not like he changed, it wasn’t like he wasn’t himself at university or anything like that, he just wasn’t quite the same. He wasn’t quite so at home. I liked Harry at home. I hoped I would like Harry back at uni, too. I was sure I would. I heard the front door open around half an hour later, and Kev cautiously poked his head through the door, like he already knew Harry was asleep. Maybe he had spotted him through the window, or maybe it was just fatherly instinct. “Hi.” He whispered. “We’re going to put the kettle on and order a Chinese. You want some?” “I’d love some.” I whispered back, rising to my feet. I quietly exited the room, shutting the door behind myself and following Kev into the kitchen, where Ben was routing through a kitchen drawer completely dedicated to takeaway menus. We had one similar in my family home. Kev went over to the kettle as Ben ushered me round to him, setting out the menus for the local Chinese takeaways. “Which do you think looks best?” He asked. “I honestly don’t mind.” I said, looking over his shoulder. We were still whispering, for some bizarre reason. We had shut the door in the living room and the door leading to the kitchen, but we were still being as quiet as we physically could, just to be careful. “We’re just going to get a mixture of things and share, is that okay with you?” “Best way to do it.” I replied. Ben grabbed the most tattered looking menu and swayed off into the extension room at the back of the house, his phone already in his hand. I figured it was the most trustworthy takeaway we had as an option, due to the state of the menu he had taken with him, and I was looking forward to sitting down and eating with them all again. “How’s your day been?” Kev asked, not opting to whisper. “Quiet. Nice though, relaxing.” I raised my tone a little too. “You looking forward to getting back to uni?” “Mixed emotions.” I confirmed. “Looking forward to seeing everyone and being back in that atmosphere, but I’ve really enjoyed my time here. I honestly don’t know how to thank you enough.” “Don’t mention it.” He wafted his hand as the kettle clicked. “I can’t blame you for not wanting to be at home at a time like this. Besides, it’s been a pleasure to have you here. You’re an ideal house guest.” I was awe of that fact he thought that. Kev wasn’t the type to bullshit anyone, and if I had been a pain in the arse to have around he would have just brushed it off, not saying anything more about it. I was flattered he had chosen to say that, and happy he felt that way. He made the drinks, including one for Harry, just in case he awoke, as Ben walked back into the kitchen, collecting all the menus and tucking them back into the drawer. “I just ordered pretty much everything on the menu. I’m starved. They also had tubs of ice-cream so I got those too, as a treat, since you’re leaving tomorrow.” “You’re making me want to stay forever.” I snickered. Kev placed the mug down in front of me and then sat himself down, Ben routing through some more cupboards and drawers for something or other. “I have a question for you.” Kev breathed. “Me?” I gawped. “Yeah.” “Okay.” I swallowed. “How have things been with you and Harry? I know you weren’t on the best of terms when you got here, and I was wondering if you’re better now, or if you’ve just... coped with one another?” How was I supposed to explain what had gone on with me and Harry in just under a week? How was I supposed to word any of it? We hadn’t coped with one another. Nor had we simply become friends. We had bonded. We had shared and spilled and completely opened up. We had gone from hating and ignoring our similarities, to loving them and wanting to find more. In every single way possible, we had grown together, and discovered things, to the point where I couldn’t believe there had ever been a stage where we didn’t get on. That made no sense whatsoever. I didn’t know how to explain that. I cleared my throat, not able to look at either of them as they leaned closer, eagerly awaiting my response. “I... I think your son is an amazing person. A credit, to both of you. I don’t really know what else to say. He’s amazing. I can see our... friendship… lasting now. I haven’t just coped with him… I-I’ve loved spending time with him.” Kev grinned, clearly happy for me, and Harry. Whereas Ben looked like he was about to burst into tears, so overwhelmed by the compliments I had just given to his son, and him, and his husband. I couldn’t imagine that feeling. I wondered how intense it was when they had taken Harry in just before he turned eight; suddenly having a child who already had a name and a personality, who already had a life shaped for himself, but a life that was dark. It was a complete credit, how Harry had turned out, Harry’s entire outlook on life. They were the people to thank for that. “Don’t get upset.” Kev said to Ben with a pout. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m just so proud of him. I worry about him so much, Pippa. When you got here and said you weren’t getting on... Well, we all know he can be a little arrogant at times, but I was so worried he’d gone off and become a complete twat. I’m so, so grateful that’s not true. He’s my son, you know? I’m just so proud of him.” “You should be.” I nodded. Kev got up to his feet and wrapped an arm around Ben, tucking him into his firm body as Ben tried really hard not to cry, frustrated that he had ended up in that state. But it was nice, seeing them so overwhelmed with pride. They should have been. Harry had an awful start to life, but you would never know. He spoke so highly of the two of them, so fondly, he barely even associated himself with the woman who had given birth to him. It was lovely. “Thank you, Pippa.” Ben finally spoke, once he was composed. “I feel so much better. Thank you.” “I’m just being honest.” Ben pulled himself together, rolling his shoulders and then going back to routing through the drawers, still searching for something, trying to pretend he hadn’t gotten so upset. That’s when I realised I was genuinely going to miss them. I was going to miss spending time with them in their home. “It’s been nice to meet you.” He choked again. “If you’re an example of the people he’s friends with at university then that’s a good sign.” “Trust me, I’m the worst one, too! Wait til you meet Zayn.” I constantly felt like I was singing Zayn’s praises, but it was hard not to when he was so blatantly amazing. I was missing him like absolute crazy. I couldn’t wait to just be across the hall from him again. “HERE WE GO!” Ben yelled excitedly, finally finding what he was looking for. “Pippa, this is for you.” He passed me a thick piece of A4 paper, with a dark print on, of the sky and stars and trees. My stomach dropped, because I knew. “Is this-” “Harry asked us to print the picture you’d taken and to give it to you.” Ben smiled. It looked amazing. That print, on the ideal paper for it, perfectly produced and shaped and completely unedited. It was pure; it was just the picture I had taken, but brought to life in a way I had never seen before. My stomach was aching, just looking at it. It was like a weird sense of longing, just one snippet of looking into something I loved, something that I had done thanks to Harry. I was a mess. But I had to hide it. “Thank you.” I shuddered. “Don’t thank us. Thank Harry.” So I waited. It felt like I waited a damn lifetime, but I knew it would be best to wait until the food was there to wake him up, because at least then I had an excuse. At least I wasn’t just waking him up to say, thanks for printing my photo and thinking of me. Finally, my moment came. The doorbell rang in the hallway, and as Kev got the money out of his wallet, I shuffled into the living room, seeing Harry still fast asleep. I bent down in front of him, smiling at his slumbering frame for only a second before I tapped his nose and blew soft air into his ear, which made him jolt awake. “The fuck, Pip-Squeak?” He grunted, still half asleep. “Foods here.” “What food?” He closed his eyes and rolled away from me so I couldn’t see his face. “We ordered Chinese food.” “Did you get salt and pepper ribs?” He cried. “I don’t know.” “I’m not coming unless you did.” I heard the front door slam shut and my stomach grumbled. I couldn’t wait much longer for Harry to decide if he wanted to bloody join us or not. “Oi. Styles.” “What?” “Thanks for getting my picture printed.” He turned back around, opening one eye and looking at me intensely. I noticed again how green they were, which shook me up and took me back to the same moment of realisation I’d had the evening before about the colour of his eyes. They were like spring, I thought, like the signs of life were coming back from winters depth, and creating the world anew again. “I wanted you to see how good you are.” He whispered. I was glad he said that. Because I wanted myself to see the same thing. + + + “I’m wide awake now.” Harry grunted, staring up to the ceiling. “Well you shouldn’t have had that nap earlier.” I groaned. I, personally, was exhausted. I rolled away from him and tucked the sheets a little further up, wishing I had the energy to get out of bed and turn off the lamp on his desk, but there was no way in hell. I didn’t need that light to be off to fall asleep, anyway. It was still pretty dark with it on, and if anything, it made me even sleepier. “Can we watch a film?” He begged. “Urgh. Harry!” I complained. Harry tucked up behind me, his lips close to my ear and his body fitting into the back of mine as he taunted in my ear. “We could watch The Princess and The Frog!” “But I’m tired!” I cried. He placed his hand on my waist and I swear my stomach flipped. I blamed it on the near kiss the evening before, and how it felt like I had been so rejected by him. His hand had been on my waist a few times throughout the week, and not once had my stomach reacted in such a way. “Pleeeaaaaase!” He tried. I squirmed and moved until his hand was off my body because I could barely cope with it. I needed him off me and I needed him to stop being playful. I just needed to feel normal around him again, and he really wasn’t helping. “No!” I cried. “Please. I’m tired.” “Urgh. Fine. Whatever. You go to sleep and I’ll sit here in silence.” “Thanks.” I huffed. Without another word, Harry got out of bed and went to turn off the lamp I had been longing to turn off myself, leaving me satisfied, warm and snug as he clambered back over to his side of the bed and tucked himself in. I lay in silence and closed my eyes, ready to greet slumber once again, but Harry was still having absolutely none of it. Every now and then, he would tut, or grunt, or sigh, or sniffle. I knew exactly what he was doing. Me and Harry were practically the same fucking person, of course I knew what he was doing, why he was acting like that. I decided to just give in. “Put a bloody film on.” I groaned. “Just don’t be offended when I fall asleep.” “YES! You’re a legend, Pip-Squeak!” He jumped out of bed, and I cursed myself for just watching him nod off earlier. I should have kept him awake and annoyed the hell out of him just so we could go to sleep at the right time. It was even worse because I knew when we were driving back the next day, Harry would complain about how tired he was. The whole thing was just not what I had in mind. Harry stood tapping his foot up and down as he eyed up his film collection. The bloody idiot must have been there for five minutes before I finally snapped. “Holy shit, would you just pick a fucking film? I’m tired.” “Tired and grumpy, it would seem.” He cocked his brows. “Why are you still the most annoying person I know?” “The more you keep talking, the longer I’m going to take to pick a film, Pip-Squeak.” With that I shut up, because I didn’t want Harry to think I was joking for a second. I was genuinely exhausted. He turned around to me, I noticed, as I pretended to have my eyes shut. He was kind of waiting for me to make some remark and fire back at him, but I gave him nothing. I liked the look of disappointment on his face. It proved to me how much of a thrill Harry used to get from our arguments, it was obvious how much he had liked them. That was one of the places we differed. The only thing arguing with Harry had ever done for me was give me a headache. He eventually picked one, and set everything up before he jumped back on the bed, literally jumped, to the point where my body shook. He’s doing this on purpose. He’s such a dick. I didn’t even want to react to him, because that was exactly what he wanted. I noticed he didn’t lower the volume of the film, and I also noticed he continued to clear his throat and choke on nothing. I had been pushed to the edge. “For fuck sake!” I cried, sitting up and turning to him. “Have I hurt you? Do you hate me? Have you been pretending to like me all week just so you could piss me off even more?” “What?” He gawked, bottom lip out. “I told you I want to sleep!” “Well, maybe I want you to stay and watch the film with me.” “Well that’s not fucking down to you, Harry!” I yelled. I flung back around so I didn’t have to look at his face, and sunk back into the bed, actually wound up. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was tired, because he genuinely was annoying me, because of what happened the night before? All I knew was that I was genuinely pissed off. But I didn’t mean to yell at him, not really. He turned the volume down. Christ, he even turned the brightness of the screen down as I lay there sulking, but feeling guilty. I hadn’t meant to snap at him, and I really didn’t want us to end our week together that way. I opened my mouth to apologise, but something entirely different came out. “You embarrassed me last night.” I wanted to start panting, but that would have made it too obvious that I was going totally insane. So, instead, I bit back my breathing and tried to act like I didn’t depend on it. I was so glad I was facing away from him. It meant he couldn’t see my wide eyes. “What? When?” He choked, oblivious. “I feel shit enough about myself thanks to the whole Louis thing without you taking the piss out of me.” I felt him sit up, alarmed, but I still didn’t turn to face him. I couldn’t believe what I was saying. We had gone the whole day without acknowledging the evening before and I was happy with that, I had wanted to ignore it. I couldn’t make any sense of why I was mentioning it. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He shot bitterly. “Saying you wanted to kiss me just so I would say it back. It’s embarrassing. Why would you say that if you didn’t even want to? You’ve made me feel like such an idiot.” “Pip-Squeak, sit up and talk to me properly!” He yelled. I pulled the sheets down with force and sat up, only being able to glance at him for a single second, catching the obscure look of confusion on his face before I was looking down in front of me. “Look, I didn’t even want to kiss you.” I gasped. “It was just the drugs.” “See, that’s exactly my fucking point!” He slammed his fist down. “That’s exactly why I said no!” “Why?” I cried back, whipping my head round. “Do you really think I want to kiss you like that? When you’re off your face? Do you really fucking think that’s how I wanted it to go?” We were both so angry, it was weird. It was a strange topic, that was a given, but I couldn’t really grasp why we were both so furious about it. “You didn’t want to kiss me at all!” I yelped. “How the fuck do you know what I want?” He scoffed. “Well you said no, didn’t you? I took that as a pretty clear sign.” “Oh just shut the fuck up, Pip-Squeak. You’ve got no clue what you’re talking about, as usual.” I felt like screaming. If I was at uni, or at home, I would have. I would have screamed and torn at my hair because that’s how genuinely infuriating I found the boy. But I didn’t, because I couldn’t. My only option was to get a breather from the entire situation before I actually went insane. I didn’t have any time to listen to him drag on. “I’m going to get a drink.” I huffed. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up as quickly as I could, marching towards the door. I wanted out of his company. Even if it was just for a few minutes. I found my fingers gripped on the handle before I felt a tug on my wrist, turning round to tell Harry he needed to back off and give me a minute, but it I had no time. Harry pushed me by the waist so my back slammed against his bedroom door, and he forced his lips on mine. I gladly welcomed them. Within a split second, my arms were wrapped around his neck, like I had been expecting it. Harry was kissing me. And I was kissing him back. He licked his tongue into my mouth almost immediately, finally letting me adore his taste, his hands gripped tight on my side as he grunted into my open mouth, clearly still full of rage but having to prove me wrong. I had never felt a kiss so desperate, I had never felt like it was so obvious that someone wanted to kiss me so much. I panted and moaned as my fingers landed on his butterfly, pushing my hips up to him for a split second before his grip intensified and his strength tightened, picking me from the floor so I could wrap my legs around his hips and he could slam me against the door one more time before he turned us around, leading us over to his bed. He dropped down on top of me, between my legs, pushing up to me with his bucking hips, making sure I could feel exactly how much he was enjoying our first kiss. “I’ll show you how much I want you.” He groaned. Within seconds his fingers were crawling up the inside of my legs, exploring my thighs as his tongue fucked into my mouth again, my back arching as Harry lifted his body from mine slightly, like I couldn’t cope with the distance. I wanted him all over me, constantly. He bit at my lip before moving his kiss to my jaw, his fingers now toying with the hem of my pants before he tugged at them, clearly wanting them off, and I wanted the same thing. He pulled them down as much as he could without ever letting his lips leave my weak, pale skin. I kicked off my pants the rest of the way, left in my knickers and my crop-top, shuffling my hips around, just waiting for him to touch me, to feel me. “Please.” I gasped. He moved so his hand could slip perfectly down the front of my underwear, and his fingers brushed gently over my most needed area, jolting the nub back and forth tenderly, cursing into my ear before his lips went back to mine, his tongue licking at my bottom lip. I let out a whimper of agony as his hand moved back upwards, only for it to soon snake round to my front, pushing my knickers to the side as two fingers slipped into me so easily, it was completely satisfying, opaquely obvious how hot I was for him. His thumb tickled up so he could rub me in hard circles as his fingers pushed up into me. He moved his head, his lips hovering a few inches from mine, halting our kiss. At first, I didn’t know why, but it soon became clear he’d distanced so he could concentrate more on what he was doing to me, and he could watch in complete admiration as I unwound under his traces, writhing about on top of the sheets as his hand fucked me ten times better than any boy ever had before. “Fuck... Pip...” He gasped, still staring at my face. I looked into his eyes as his fingers curved in me, searching for every peak he knew he could hit, a smug, adoring look on his face, his mouth open, his tongue struggling between his teeth as his thumb began moving a little quicker. That was it. That was all I had needed. I couldn’t hold his gaze any longer as my head lolled back and my mouth dropped open, panting and trying not to scream, having to bite my bottom lip and simply whimper out my orgasm, feeling Harry’s hand slow down and his fingers escape me as he rubbed over the juices that had left my quivering body. He was still staring at me. I panted out the aftermath of my orgasm as Harry flopped back to his side of the bed, seeming just as exhausted as I was. I turned my head to the side to watch him. The TV images flickered over his face, eyes shut, head back, Adams-apple nudging up and down his tanned skin. “What the fuck.” I gasped, still breathless. I watched as he smirked, before he whipped his head and opened his eyes so quickly, he caught me out. He caught me gazing fondly at him. “Now I’m tired.” He chuckled, biting his bottom lip. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, the only light now coming from the moon that poked from his thin, white curtains, turning back to find that I was still looking at him. There were a few moments silence, where we just looked at one another, saying nothing, barely even thinking, until I found that my eyes were closing all by themselves. I was tired before the workout. This had tipped me over my edge. “You did want to kiss me.” I smiled through a whisper, nodding off. “Of course I did.” He whispered back. Before I completely dropped off, he came to me, pushing the front of his body to mine, so close the tips of our noses touched. I draped my leg over his hip, and played with the lobe of his ear before I fell asleep. I’m almost sure he watched me the whole time.

#DON'T EVEN ASK ME FOR AN UPDATE TOMORROW BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT GETTING ONE #five is enough #go off #happy reading #1dff #Harry Styles #BB19