.Perfect Fantasy. |H.S.|

Chapter 20. Unwritten.

.Harry.

I felt the whiskey going down smoothly, almost in compensation of my mood not improving. I peered out the plane window, my fingers going to the glass, feeling the cold on my fingertips as I stared down at the dark patches of land moving quickly below us, the roaring of the engine battling with the insane tone of my thoughts; my mind in absolute hyperdrive.

Couldn't sleep tonight, the weight of the hours making me absolutely hate the foreign feeling of insomnia. I was used to sleep almost everywhere, any time; it was one of the things that people wondered about me, why I was able to cuddle anywhere and just do it.

I scrunched down the leather seat and moved from one side to the other, opening and closing my eyes and creating unnecessary noise, but nothing was happening to me. Every time I would settle down, the events of the previous night, days and now weeks or so reappeared, which, in turn, led me to unfold more and more questions that were definitely not helping my sleep deprived humor.

In an instant reaction my eyes fell into the only light turned, throughout the rest of the cabin, wondering why Natalia was the other nocturnal being.
The others were sleeping, mum was sprawled on top of Robin, reasonably using him as a human pillow, her peaceful face and his deep snores were breaking a smile on my lips, and Sean was at the far end of the seats, not making a single noise or movement.

Well, shit. I wanted to get some sleep myself.

My eyes were distracted again by the low-lighted seat, but this time, I focused on her body from the side—she was moving carefully, caring for her hand not to bump into something, had it now resting against a small pillow by her lap. Her eyes were stilled into her reading, moving in continuous lines across a book page and then another, the tip of her small nose was dangerously close to the paper.
I couldn't help but wonder what was so damn interesting that her eyes weren't even blinking in response.

Found myself debating whether to go where she was or if it was more appropriate for me to just try again and get some sleep like the rest.
Truth was, ever since that awful phone call I've not been able to look at her in the eye, the thought of this insane person wanting to harm her was sickening, and it was even worse that I was trying to omit that piece of the puzzle to her.
I didn't want her to panic.
Staring one last time into the light of her seat, and almost in a daze, found my fingers uncovering my body from the small blanket and moving across the carpeted aisle, in her direction, the icy whiskey and black thin straw twirling in my hand as I reached her.

"Can't sleep?" I asked her, out of freaking nowhere.

"Oh fuck!" Her head jerked up and she jumped a little at the unexpected sound of my voice, her good hand gripping tightly on the armrest of her seat. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry doctor, didn't mean to startle you." I kept running my hand through my hair, unsure of what to do next. I felt like an asshole because I wanted to laugh at her reaction. "Can I sit here with you?"

"You don't have to ask." She turned her head to glare at me with a tiny hint of amusement now and seizing the chance, I was soon making myself comfortable in the seat by her side. She tried to be subtle when she shoved the strands of her dark hair into her face, and pinned her deep brown eyes on me. "Oh, and don't go creeping on me again, not when we are in the situation we're in."

I couldn't hide the smirk that followed.

"What are you reading?" It was a stupid, generic question, but it was the first thing that popped into my head, after rudely interrupting her. "You seemed pretty entertained."

"Uh, nothing interesting." She mentioned as she closed the book with a snap, the sudden pages filled with what seemed to be some type of brain scans were gone from my sight. "Can't sleep too?"