Icarus | Z.M.

44 | Charm

Victoria Tomlinson

I couldn't say the last time I had ever been so warm, so comfortable and had felt so safe.  Wrapped up in a soft blanket, engulfed entirely in one specific scent that I was growing to appreciate more and more, the softness of the fabric against my skin created a sense of comfort, protection even. It was heavy, thick and chunky and had a pressure that felt like there were a pair of arms around me, embracing me in a hug. Like I was shielded from the outside world, allowing a small moment of peace and security.

My arms were hugged around myself, crossed tightly over my chest and my head rested on something beside me. I was still groggy, half asleep, but I was so warm and so comfortable that I didn't want to move or even open my eyes to wake myself up. It was one of those sleeps where I wished it had lasted forever, I didn't want to wake up just yet.

I inhaled deeply, nuzzling my cheek in. As I slowly became more aware of my surroundings and didn't feel like I was still in a hazy dream, I realised I was in a strange position. I had slept sitting upright, but leaning on something beside me, the couch it seemed. My head rested to the side, my knees up in front of me like I was going to hug my arms around myself.

I was still too tired to move, still half asleep and I didn't really know what was going on. I felt like I was still asleep and wasn't going to be able to open my eyes even if I wanted to. So instead I just tried to feel my surroundings, to attempt at all to figure out where I was. There was a pressure on my head, not a lot, but enough I could feel it was there. My mouth was a little dry, I was probably going to be a little bit hungover when I first woke up.

I remembered last night, Zayn wrapping me up in a blanket, taking care of me while I was a drunk mess. But I didn't remember much after he lit the fire, I didn't remember falling asleep. From the way there was a stiffness in my back, I could tell I was still on the floor, not a couch or a bed, not that it was his responsibility to put me anywhere if I had fallen asleep on the floor. But what was I leaning against? Was I asleep on the floor leaning against the couch?

No. It clicked a second later, when I felt whatever my cheek was resting on rise and fall, and the small feeling of a breath hit the top of my head.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My eyes shot open in a small moment of panic when I realised what my cheek was resting on — who my cheek was resting on, who I was resting against.

Shit.

My cheek rested on Zayn's shoulder, my face practically nuzzled into his neck. And now that I knew I realised how I could feel the rise and fall of his chest, I could hear his soft rhythmic breathing. The lights were off, but I could make out enough to let me know that we were still in his living room, and we were on the floor. Zayn had his back resting against the couch, his legs lazily resting outstretched on the floor. He had a hand wrapped around my back, the other rested on my knees. I sat across his lap, like I was being cradled into his chest.

My breath stopped, my body went rigid when I realised how we had been sleeping. I had no idea what time it was, if it was morning or I had woken in the middle of the night. There were no windows and no clocks I could see to give any indication of what time it was. I felt like if I moved or breathed at all then he was going to wake up.

How had we even ended up in this position? I knew we were both pretty drunk last night, but I didn't feel drunk enough that I didn't know what I was doing. I could remember the end of last night, not much about the party or how we got back, but I remembered waking up here, and then sitting by the fire, but not in this position, not even close to the way we were sitting right now.