the cool side of the pillow {styles au}

seventeen

Cleo's POV:

The wind whistles softly as it whips against the window next to which I lie. My back is pressed to the cold glass and a chill slowly creeps up my spine. I roll away from the glass and peer up at the darkness outside through a gap in my hair. Everything seems peaceful enough, until I notice the unmoving leaves and unwavering tree branches. It's then that I realize the whistling I'd mistaken for the wind is in fact a person. Quickly, I scurry away from the window, afraid at what I might find staring back at me. I bump into something hard and look up to see the edge of a bed. I crawl into the haven the white, fluffy comforter provides. Harry's. I sigh in relief as I begin to slowly recognize his bedroom. Where is he?

A light tap against the window catches my attention and I turn my head. Two glowing red eyes stare at me as a giant claw drags across the glass. The nails on a chalkboard sound it makes has me covering my ears and burrowing my head into my knees. The noise stops but I don't move, sheer terror holding my every cell captive. Bang! I jump, eyes shifting to the window once more. The dark figure is now on the inside of the glass, staring me down from across the room. I go flying backwards into something, immediately flailing my limbs to try and get it off me. Two strong arms wrap around me and the familiar comfort Harry provides calms me slightly.

When I peer over my shoulder to stare into his beautiful green eyes, I find myself face to face with the shadowy figure with red eyes instead. A deafening scream rips through me as the creature's sharp claw clamps down on my mouth.

I shoot up in bed, feeling a strong pressure holding my mouth hostage. I fight against it for some time before I realize it's my own hand clamped down to keep my screams from escaping. My heart is beating so fast and no matter how many calming breaths I take, I can't seem to tame it. My hands search the bed blindly for Harry, knowing that the second I'm in his arms I'll feel better. The bed is empty. Before I realize what I'm doing, I have my phone in my hand and I'm calling him. Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up. It rings endlessly and just as I'm about to hang up there's a click.

"Harry!" His name comes out a strangled whisper.

"Hiiiii, you've reached Harry. I've probably lost my phone, to be honest. So leave me a message and if I ever find it, I'll get back to-"

I hang up and call him again, needing some sort of relief from the scariest nightmare I've ever had. It was foolish of me to think they were gone for good, but it was just so easy to live in bliss with Harrry. His line goes to voicemail once more but I keep dialing him with shaking hands.

The seventh time it goes to voicemail, I don't hang up. Instead I wait for him to finish his little speech and for it to beep, signaling I can leave him a message. Instead of saying anything, I just cry. I cry into the receiver until it beeps again, letting me know I've been cut off. I keep the screen pressed to my face anyway, shaking so hard my teeth are chattering. Eventually a pounding headache makes its presence known at the base of my temple and my tear ducts seem to have dried up, so I toss my phone across the room and curl up in a ball within my comforter. My eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking, finding a small hole in the opposite wall to keep them occupied.

Harry's POV:

"You've got to me kidding me," I bellow, dragging my mum across the linoleum kitchen floor.

She's irretrievably piss drunk. I found her passed out on a stool at the counter, half her face submerged in a clear liquid she'd spilled. I heave her up high enough so I can place her on the couch, dropping her limp body onto the cushions. I retreat to the hallway to grab her a bin incase she throws up; it's completely fucked how familiar I am with this routine. Get a drunk text from mum telling me she needs me, come home to find her passed out somewhere, throw her on the couch, get her a bin, some advil, and water, wake up the next morning to find she did in fact throw up - but missed the bin entirely, clean up her mess, and finally go about my day.