Dealing With Absence » h. styles au

47ᵀᴴ CHAPTER

                                        47ᵀᴴ CHAPTER 

                "Things refuse to be mismanaged for long" 

Leesh wakes up about an hour later, the noise of something constantly hitting against the window gradually bringing her back to full consciousness.

When she acknowledges it as coming from outside, she’s decisive to ignore it and go back to sleep, but even though she’s extremely tired, her brain can’t seem to shut off again whilst the goddamn noise doesn’t cease.

With a heavy sigh, she untangles from the sheets and stumbles toward the window, not bothering to push the curtains away when she opens it. As soon as the glass is fully up, something hits her on the forehead and she lets out a small curse.

“What the fuck?”

“Oops, sorry,” Harry apologises and-

Harry.

Harry is on the platform of her window, leaning against the railing and holding small rocks within his curved palm. It takes a moment for Elisha to understand, but when she does, the first thing she says is:

“You’re supposed to throw gravel at a girl’s window, not actual rocks, you dick. Haven’t you read fairy tales at all?” she brings a hand up to her forehead and presses her fingers there, trying to make sure there isn’t blood. It’s sensitive, though, so she winces at the pressure.

Harry immediately launches forward and lets the rocks fall from his hand, echoing on the steal. He touches Elisha’s hand smoothly and drags it away, looking at the sore spot with unnecessary care.

“It’s just a small cut, but it’s a lot red,” he mumbles, touching his forefinger to it.

“Well, it’s hurting, so,” she complains just for the sake of it. In reality, she’s too busy trying to focus on the actual pain rather than Harry’s lips, just there.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispers, brushing a finger past the supposed cut and smiling. “Mind if I come in?”

Leesh rolls her eyes at him. “Harry, do you have any idea what time is it?” she questions, trying her best to sound at least one bit upset.

He stares blankly at her. “Two thirty in the morning.”

Elisha sighs at his statement, stepping away from the window so Harry can come in. “Shit,” she mumbles to herself. “Two thirty in the morning, Harold.”

He grins at her, leaving the window behind him open and tying the curtains with their own tissue. “You were mad at me without actually knowing what time it was?” he questions, smug.

Leesha shrugs. “I knew it was early,” she reasons, walking into the bathroom and opening the tap, letting the water flow as she grabs a hand towel and holds a part of it under the tap to wet it, cool it down a bit and press against her forehead. Harry watches her by the door. “By the way, did you jump from your platform to mine?”

He ducks down to smile, staring at his – bare? – feet when he answers. “Not exactly jump, but something like that, yeah.”

Elisha snorts. “And you wanna talk safety with me, please,” she then turns off the tap and turns to look at him properly. Harry’s wearing his largest pyjama pants and some stained white shirt, his hair wet. His necklaces are all gone, his eyes dark, just like the bags underneath them. Her heart swells. “Have you been okay?”