Broken Glass [h.s.]

fourteen

Dove

I open my eyes to find out that I fell asleep on Styles, and sit up instantly, not wanting him to notice that I'm basically lying on him. He doesn't move even though I must've moved him roughly while getting up.

I look down at him, I've never seen his sleep. In a way, I like it. He looks way calmer than usual, his face is relaxed, differently from when he's awake, when he seems to be constantly on edge for some unknown reason. And the most important thing, he's silent. Looking at him without him saying bullshit all the time makes me see how attractive he truly is, and his beauty strikes me every time as the first. It's almost upsetting, my mind can't process how someone can be so stunning and so profoundly annoying at the same time.

I nervously bite my lower lip before leaning down to cover him with the blanket better, since the air seems even colder than when we fell asleep. I wonder what time it is, if the sun has already come out or if it's still night. The day should've come around by now, though.

I sit down next to Styles, that is still asleep, wondering what to do next. I know for sure that we're in the wrong entrance right now, because I entered the first I saw and, if I remember correctly, the right one was at the end of the road, not the start. The best thing to do would be to get out of the tunnels and enter the right one, but the idea of having to go out again scares me, given what happened yesterday night. If we can even remember the path to the entrance, since that we walked around while we were arguing.

I'm so screwed. If I can't manage to keep Styles safe, Mr Styles will never let my parents go. I shiver at the simple thought of what he could do to them. I need to find the right road, in some kind of way. Too many things depend on it.

I glance at Styles, his eyes are still closed. I instinctively reach out to brush a curl of dark hair away from his forehead, but I stop before even touching him. His looks may be absolutely dashing, but he is a prick, and I don't like him. Besides, what if he woke up? Nobody would want to hear what he'd say about my action. Subconsciously I find myself looking at him again. His rosy lips are slightly parted, and the faint warmth of his breath hits my hand, on the floor next to his head, in rhythmic blows.

"Wake up, Styles" I say out loud, despising having to wake him up.

He murmurs something, but doesn't budge. Of course.

"I suggest you wake up before I rethink the importance of our water and pour it on you" I say snappily, this time effectively getting a response.

"Why do you always have to be such a bitch?" He mumbles rolling to his back before sitting up, brushing his hair away from his green eyes, looking at me tiredly, a little smile on his lips at seeing the level of annoyance I'm at.

Fuck you, Styles.

I look down to my backpack, that is between my legs, to escape his gaze. I open it and start rummaging inside, not really doing anything, just to give the impression I am. "We need to get out of here. I suggest you wake up because if someone tries to shoot you and you're too sleepy to even notice I will not save your sorry ass."

"I never asked you to" he hisses standing up and stumbling slightly, "Do you even know how to get out of here, or are you being a bitch to cover up the fact that you don't even know where to go?"

I glare at him. "I hate you, Styles. I'll never hate anyone more than I hate you."

"Don't worry, the feeling is mutual" he says glaring back.