24.

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'Submitted under power and you got me to my knees'

*

Rain against a window can be quite soothing a lot of the time. For years I would listen to rain soundscapes on my phone to help me sleep, anxiety causing episodes of insomnia that would last for weeks. The sound of water hitting a surface lulled me into a state of calmness, sending me into a comfortable slumber until the nightmares would hit.

Right now, as the moon is the only thing that lights the room and the downpour falls against the window, it is quite the opposite. The storm raging on outside is like the one the other night, but much harsher. Winds rattling the windowpanes so hard I worry they'll cave in with the force. It sounds like there are hailstones pelting against the glass every second.

The lunar shadows spread across the room, silhouettes of trees blanketing me. They look like monsters, the type you'd hide under your bed from as a child. As you grow older, you realise the monsters only existed in your mind. Then you face the real demons, and they replace the creatures that existed before. Fear sets in, but at a greater scale, because you're aware of how powerful they are now. How much harm they can do. You can't run, you're not safe.

I've been tossing and turning for an hour now, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling. Even if I wanted to sleep, I can't, not when my mind is moving at a thousand miles an hour after my encounter with Harry. We were so close to one another, both leaning in for a kiss but being denied of it. I know why it didn't happen. We're becoming too close, too comfortable. Harmless flirting and touches are fine, but what almost happened outside my door wasn't just an act of fooling around. No, it was entirely the opposite. At least on my end. I wanted to kiss him because I felt safe, because I liked being in his company. It's not that I feel anything for him, but I worry that I'll fall down the rabbit hole if I don't distance myself from moments like that again. Perhaps it's a case of Stockholm Syndrome. I am trapped in this situation, after all.

Harry has been yelling since he left me. I've been listening to his conversation; his voice raised the entire time. I haven't been able to make out everything he's said, but most of it seems to do with me. He's probably on the phone to someone from the team, likely Zayn. I've noticed that's who he's closest with. They talk more frequently than he does with the others. Even in the few photos I uncovered today, it was obvious that they're like brothers. Not just friends. I hope one day I'll find out the details of how everyone met.

The few things I have caught on to have been about my safety, the danger that awaits, how they'll stop Hugo. All valid questions. At least I'm not the only one spiralling at the situation. There were mentions of the fate of the heist, too, specifically whether it can still go ahead. If we're correct Hugo already knows about it. He's been following my every move; he can't have missed this.

Without a second thought, I throw the covers off of me, the cold hitting my bare legs immediately. Harry gave me another t-shirt to wear for bed, but I'd opted to keep the trousers off this evening. The duvet was so thick I ended up sweating too much. Now that it's off, though, I'm shivering. The shirt hits mid-thigh, so it doesn't reveal much. Harry's already seen me naked, this is nothing compared to that.

I lean forward for the glass on the bedside table, taking a quick sip of water to lubricate my dry throat before standing to my feet. Walking towards the door, the floorboards creak under me. They're probably the original ones from when the house was first built. I can tell from the marks on them and the type of wood used. It was custom back then to go for timber or oak. A display of wealth, just as it is today.

I turn the handle quietly, moving forward out of the room into the lit hallway. The voice gets louder once there are fewer walls blocking it. I can hear him more clearly now. My feet slowly start making their way to his door. I'm unsure what I wish to achieve with this, but I long to be near him. The whole time I've been tossing and turning in bed I've been thinking of Harry. It's dangerous, I know. I can't seem to help myself, though. I wish I could deny it for longer but it's not possible.

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