Matching Rings [h.s]

61

POV: BAYLIN GRIGGS

I waited for well over three hours for Harry to come back, the tired sun was starting to set and a gloomy dark blue aura leveled the loft.

The first hour I spent alone was absolutely dreadful, I didn't even both putting on clean clothes. I didn't want to go back upstairs and have to look at the messy sheets and remember how bad I must have made him feel.

I walked over to a shirt that was in a crinkled ball laying on the couch, it was the shirt that Harry wore today. It was still in its place from when we tore it off his toned torso through urgent lust.

As I slip the fabric over my head, I get an unsettling feeling— one that made me aware of my surroundings. I felt like I was being watched.

I quickly pull the shirt to cover my naked body, thankfully I was practically drowning in the fabric and it went down to my mid thigh.

I push aside the weird feeling and go to sit on the couch. I know I'm safe in here, I heard Harry lock the door from the outside when he left and there's no other way in.

As I sit down, the broken lights flicker to a bright vomiting color of yellow, it made everything look gross and overall put a deeper damper on my mood. It's like when your having a bad day and your belt buckle gets caught on a door handle, it's just the last straw.

I break down crying, tears gushing out of my tear ducts and scaling down my face like I had just heard the worse news in the world. I fold my knees and bury my head between them in hopes to drown out the color.

I sat on his couch in the empty apartment for the majority of those long three hours, waiting to hear the sound of the lock clicking and to see Harry walk in.

But after three hours he still never came.

It's seven thirty now, though it seems much later and it feels like I've been waiting for just about a year.

I did manage to drag myself to the downstairs bathroom to take a shower, I felt disgusting and needed to wash myself off. I had never used that shower before, but right now I couldn't bring myself to go back upstairs. After my long thoughtful shower, that consisted of mostly beating myself down, I slipped on a clean pair of Harry's boxers and one of his clean shirts from the dryer. My eyes were swollen and my throat felt raw from quietly crying and trying to keep myself busy.

I was supposed to be back by ten, I don't want to leave without situating this with Harry.

I don't know if Harry plans on returning. He won't answer any of my calls or texts. I've even called Louis and asked if he had seen him, he hasn't.

I don't know if what I did made him mad, or confused, or feel guilty, I have no fucking idea. My brain is mind fucked by trying to figure out which exact part got him upset enough to leave. Was it my begging? Or him giving in? Maybe he was angry with himself. Maybe he was angry with me.

I shouldn't have pushed him like that. I should have let him tell me on his own time. I'm a fucking idiot. What the hell was I thinking? Now I'm fucked. I'm worried out of my mind about him.

I push myself off the soft nest I made from blankets on the sofa, once again feeling the cold room temperature seep to my bare legs. I walk myself over and located my phone that was sitting on top of the counter.

I'd hate to leave, I want to stay and wait for him. I want to be here when he comes back home safe. We need to talk about this now. I don't want to have to wait until I see him again or until he decides to answer my calls.

But I have to get back to the Bel Air house before ten, I won't be late again.

I search through my contacts and find Liam's number. When I press call it rings only a few times before I hear the morphed sound of Liam's voice, "Hey."