Murder Me Kindly| H.S

18- Morning After

Harry Styles

Every morning is exactly the same for me. I wake up, brush my teeth, and start my day. But this morning is different. Instead of my cool sheets surrounding me as I open my eyes, I feel a weight resting on my chest, and brushes of air hitting my neck.

I crack open my eyes for the first time and look around until my irises land on the woman who drives me mad curled up against my body.

Once I register our situation my body naturally tenses up. I've never had someone touch me in this way. I've never let someone touch me in this way.

I'm laid out on my back, my arm acting as her pillow, her leg is thrown over my hip, ad her face is burrowed into my neck. I force my body to relax so I don't disrupt her and I let my mind drift to last night.

The second I woke up in the car I instantly knew something was wrong. I could just... Feel it. Which is new for me.

When I got a good look at her face in the elevator I noticed she'd been crying. Her brown eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale and tear stricken. Hearing her deflect my statement about her crying with humor made it crystal clear that I was right.

Whilst she was in the shower I was playing back every moment of our day. From her singing and dancing in the car to me waking up, and I couldn't figure out what was wrong.

I don't know how to comfort people. When I see someone cry I either don't care or I get extremely uncomfortable; no in-between. So when I realized she was or had been crying I comforted her in the best way I knew how.

Intoxication.

Not necessarily the healthiest alternative but it is an effective one. 

So when she got out of the show I got me and her a glass and slid it over to her wordlessly, silently telling her that I was listening. 

So I sat there with my head leaned back, eyes closed listening to her slurred confessions and darkest truths. I sat there and I listened, I processed, and I let it sink in. After all of that, it didn't make her any less of what I already thought of her. If anything it made her... more?

Hearing about the smallest of portions of thoughts that run through her head really changed my entire perspective and opinion about her. It makes me see her in a brighter light; in a better point of view. 

I hate her for making me see her this way. I hate her for opening my eyes. I hate her for making me hate her less. Every time I learn something new about her it makes me appreciate her more. 

I don't understand how she and I have both been through some fucked up shit, yet her light outshines her darkness. 

I envy the fact that she is still able to smile. I envy her laughter. I envy that she is able to lead a normal life. Every grin and chuckle I see come from her causes jealousy to flow through my veins until it's unbearable. I can't even hug my sister without every cell in my body screaming in protest, but she gets all of these privileges and I don't? I don't understand what I did to deserve the shitty hand that I've been dealt but at this point, I'm just accustomed to it. 

Fuck you Carmen for being everything I wish I was. 

As I lay there letting my mind run on multiple tangents  I feel Carmen start to shift on top of me. She lifts her face out of the crook of my neck and I feel her start to look around. As she becomes more and more conscious I feel her body tense on top of me. 

I feel her lay her head back down on the pillow and I can just feel her eyes on me. I feel a puff of air fan across my face as she sighs out of her nose. I lay there still and soundless wondering what she is going to do.