Red Volkswagen || h.s.

Sparks Fly

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i'm captivated by you baby like a fireworks show

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BROOKLYN'S POV

"Brooklyn."

I feel someone's hand on my shoulder, but I haven't come to full consciousness yet.

I force myself to blink a few times, slowly moving my eyes up to my human alarm clock to discover that it's my mom.

"Um, who is in your bed and why are you sleeping on the couch?" She asks, and last night comes rushing back to me in a millisecond, subsequently waking me up because I remember the fact that Harry is the one sleeping in my bed.

What time is it even?

"It's Harry." I mumble, rubbing my eyes to wake myself up.

"Oh. Wait, is he–"

"Yes." I answer her, knowing exactly what she was going to ask. "It's him."

"Okay, well, I have to go to school."

"It's Saturday."

"Extra sessions."

"Are you gonna scold me for sneaking a boy into the house before you go?"

"Please. You're not even in the same room. And it's not like you've ever had a problem with sneaking boys in the house before anyways!"

"Alright–" I grab and pathetically chuck a pillow at her as she laughs and runs off and I hear the door to the garage open and close.

Now that I'm awake, I grab my phone and discover that it's eight-thirty. I only respond to a text from Devin before putting my phone back down again and letting out a yawn, but I'm definitely not going back to sleep at this point. I sit up and am immediately greeted by Cooper's slobbery morning kisses, so once he runs off again because he has the attention span of a goldfish, I head to my room.

I silently inch the door open to see that Harry is still asleep and in the same position I left him in last night. Which is a good thing, because he's going to sleep for however long his body needs to. Which is a lot.

Shutting the door quietly, I retreat back down the hallway into the kitchen. My stomach grumbles as I walk and I figure Harry will want something when he wakes up, so I open the fridge and find out what I have to work with. Which isn't a ton, but we have eggs and things to put in an omelet so it will work. Does Harry even like eggs? I have no idea. I hope so, at least.

What even is his favorite food? He doesn't seem picky from what I've seen him eat in the last few days. He does seem to like fruit, though. I wonder what food he hates. I feel like everyone has a food that the mere thought of just makes them gag. For me, it's celery. Does he like to cook? He definitely seems like the type to like to cook.

I need to stop. Stop wondering these things. Because these things lead to other things and other things are dangerous territory.

"Cooper, am I in trouble?" I turn to the dog, consulting him with a sigh. He tilts his head because he has no idea what I just said. "You're right. Let's be real. I think I'm in trouble."

***

It's been two hours. It's ten-thirty. Harry hasn't woken up yet.

I went to go make sure he was still alive about an hour ago and he still hadn't moved an inch. So I left him again and now I'm sitting around waiting because I don't want to leave and have him wake up in a panic because he doesn't remember where he is.