Shapes [DISCONTINUED]

14 | Mirroring

AN: let's catch up. Harry loved, admired, and longed for Habiba (a real person) who was his friend/school counselor. He wanted to be accepted and loved by at least one person despite his sick desires and hoped to find that in Habiba. When that didn't happen and Habiba died, his mind created a second personality in the shape and form of her, with the same appearance and same voice in his head. This Habiba (let's just call her Habiba 2.0 to make it easier who is the second personality) is what Harry's mind created to be a perfect companion who would accept him no matter what (this is not a ghost of the real Habiba, the real Habiba is dead). The narration of this entire story is from the viewpoint of Harry's second personality Habiba 2.0.

I'm in a dark room.

A dark, dark empty room with the faded tune of the 'If You Like Piña Coladas song' while I wait.

And waited.

I replayed the song again once it finished because really that's all I could do at this point.

When the room started to grow lighter, furnitures forming, taking odd shapes before coming into full clear view, like someone putting glasses on and seeing everything in more detail that was when I saw Harry come into my vision, picking his items of clothing up from the ground and slipping his pants on one leg at a time, clearly trying to rush before I stood to my feet and approached him.

"That was fast. Hope you didn't cum too quick." Was the first greeting that left my lips as a devilish smirk appeared over his features, his gaze filled with amusement before he pushed his slightly damp brown hair up from his face.

"I'll have you know, she got her fair share of orgasms before I was finished." Harry prompted with a cocky raise of his brow as I faked a smile before dropping it, reverting back to my deadpanned expression, my eyes traveling to the knocked out, naked red head on the wrinkled bed behind him.

Every time Harry had his little rendezvous with a pretty girl -I wouldn't say he would trap me in the inside of his head because really, I'd rather be restrained in the deepest darkest crevices of his mind than third wheel and awkwardly hear and watch him have rough sex on a daily.

The deal was that Harry had the ability to suppress my voice, my appearance, just my being entirely if he wanted to until I was just waiting inside of his head, cut off from the outside world waiting to come out, waiting for him to finish whatever sinful thing he was doing since I couldn't feel any sensations he was feeling (thankfully) and only felt sensations that were truly painful.

"Did you really have to keep playing that damn Piña Colada song in my head? She kept screaming 'harder, harder' underneath me and I almost yelled 'do you like piña coladas' in response." Harry opened the door, stepping aside for me to go through it first even though we were both fully aware I wasn't physically there as I simply smiled, humming the tune making him chuckle before he followed after me, or rather I followed him.

I followed him everywhere.

Took care of him everywhere.

Both because I had to and because I wanted to.

"Sometimes I think I'd rather just like to experience what it feels like when you're having sex, just to feel something else other than pain. I mean we share the same body, even if it is like some kind of sick third wheeling intercourse." I sighed in thought, resting my chin in the palm of my hand as I watched Harry eat his slice of pumpkin pie at my favorite diner.

Couldn't really taste much, most of the sensations were controlled by the one in power of the body, and that was Harry.

I just liked Pumpkin pie because it looked all calm and simple compared to the rest of the showy desserts.