Lennon.
I couldn't wake up and say I slept soundly because I didn't. I woke up numerous times, my heart beating so loud I could hear it in my ears. My forehead sodden with sweat and my hands completely clammy. I wasn't one to have nightmares, but apparently last night I was. It got to a point where I had to leave the bed and stumble into the bathroom to be sick. Not attractive, luckily Harry slept through it all without even twitching. Lucky twat.
I couldn't pin point the exact reasons as to why I was suffering from terrifying dreams because they weren't flashbacks and nor were they based on anything that had happened. The first nightmare I was strapped to a chair in a testing lab and a crazy scientist was poking needles unwantedly into my skin. The second one revolved around drowning in the middle of the pacific, one of my many fears.
Once morning finally dawned up on us, I would love to stay I woke up all giddy, loved up and curled into Harry's side, his arms wrapped tightly around me in a protective manner. But I couldn't, because for a start we weren't loved up and had no plan nor want for that to happen. And in fact we woke up in a completely different situation. My body was half dangling off the side of the bed, whilst he was sprayed out like a starfish. Harry Styles would also be known now as a duvet hogger.
I shuffled around enough so I could haul myself back up properly onto the mattress before I took a nasty tumble. Harry's eyes remained closed but his breathing became less audible than his previous heavy grunts of his sleepiness state therefore I assumed he was awake or at least conscious to some extent.
"Didn't I tell you to leave last night?" He mumbled, still avoiding opening his eyes. His morning voice was rough, the opposite of his normal, silky tone it often had.
I stared in disbelief at the slobbed out boy lying next to me. I was sat upright mentally sending him the evil eye. "I do recall you telling me the exact opposite."
His eyes opened slowly, his mouth letting out a small "oh", to which I replied with "oh" myself, except in a more sarcastic, I am right way. He looked around the room briefly before turning his gaze back to mine, which had failed to leave his tussled curls which looked a nightmare to want to tame.
"I'm not used to having girls still here in the morning," he yawned mid sentence before swinging the duvet back and sauntering out of the room. I quickly followed in his footsteps as he wandered into his kitchen. Of course it was pristine.
"Do you actually live here or is it somewhere you just bring girls back?" I quipped mindlessly as I sat at the kitchen bar table as he began to boil the kettle. He turned around, leaning against his kitchen counter as he pondered over my statement. "It's so clean here," I concluded.
"What's wrong with being clean?"
"It makes it seem so lifeless, un lived in in fact."
"I like to know where everything is. I can't do that if there's crap everywhere, can I?"
I rolled my eyes at his snarky tone. Note to self (not like I would actually need future reference because this was a one off occurrence) Harry was not a morning person. "You're not really a morning person are you?"
"I'm the same person any time of day, I just don't appreciate annoying little girls questioning my cleaning habits."
I took no offence to his statement, partly because that's what he wanted to happen and because it was fun to wind him up, he was too easy. I mumbled under my breath "really not a morning person," and I'm pretty sure he heard but I smirked nonetheless.
"Drink your tea and I'll take you home."
I took the cup from his hand and took a sip of the steaming brew. I narrowed my eyes at him as he sat down opposite me. He looked somewhat uncomfortable under my gaze which was interesting. I continued to stare, wondering how long I could keep it up until he broke.
