Under Pressure {H.S}

Chapter 11

Here's a visual for Harry's apartment :)

Mia's POV:

Warmth.

I never really like being warm. I always prefer the cold over the heat. Falling asleep cold is better than falling asleep hot.

But it's always better to wake up warm than cold.

Last night, I fell asleep cold and this morning, I feel warm. In my opinion, that's the best type of sleep you can get.

I open my eyes to see that I'm on a bed that I'm assuming is Harry's. I squint my eyes so that I can adjust to the light of the room. The entire wall beside H's bed is a window. Although the shades are closed, the tiny rays of sunshine cause me to blink quickly.

Where is H?

I slowly stand of from the bed and quickly realize that I'm in Harry's shirt and boxers.

The boxers hang low on my hips but my body is covered by the large t-shirt.

I walk on the hardwood floors and leave the room. When I enter the hallway I peak in the ajar doors to check if he's in one. I know he had a rough night last night.

Distracted, I look down a smaller hallway and spot a tiny reading nook that is kind of like a bay window.

It's so cute.

I can't really see out the window, but I'll look at it later.

I keep walking and enter an open area. To the right is a living room and to the left is a cute kitchen. It's all grey but there is still a ton of color. The couch is a teal-y green and all of the kitchen appliances are colorful. The entire apartment is lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, showcasing a beautiful view of New York everywhere you turn.

This place is huge. And it looks expensive.

I walk along the edge of the penthouse and look out all of the windows. First, I look at the street and watch all of the traffic. Then, I look back up to the tall buildings.

All of the people in these buildings and in those cars have all of there own stories to tell, and that's crazy to me. I pass by people every day and never think twice about them. They probably have families and pets and crazy experiences to share. But I'll never be able to hear all of those stories, which scares me.

You look at these people, and see that they're existing, but you never know if they're actually living.

I feel like every day is just a fight for survival. It's like nobody is really going off to see the world and meet people and interacting with each other.

Existing is one thing, but living is so... rare.

I hope one day I'll feel alive.

I snap out of my deep thoughts and walk back towards the kitchen.

"H?" I shout in attempt to find him.

I look back at the kitchen island and find a note next to a pen and two, twenty-dollar bills.

Mia,
Your clothes are in my room. Here's some money for a cab. Let me know if you need something. -H

Oh.

I guess that's not what I was expecting.

I grab the note and flip it over and start writing on the back.

Thank you, H. I'm sorry if this sounds rude but I kind of thought that you would be here when I woke up. Are we still on good terms? Maybe I'm overreacting and