Note To Self (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Seventy Three.

The smack down of pouring rain plummeting to the ground outside and the sound of creaking wooden stairs are what pulled Harry out of his shallow slumber. His back ached, knees were pressed flat to the cement wall, and he'd cocooned himself in the blankets to shield his naked skin from the cold basement air. His neck craned to watch Aubry's body disappear through the door at the top of the stairs, leaving him in the dim morning light by himself, and he was relieved to watch her go. Joyed, almost, because he didn't have to sit with her and explain himself. Still livid, still hurt, still hated her for all she'd done, but at least he didn't have to endure looking her in the eye. He had no self control when it came to her, ever. He never had. None of that mattered, because morning had come and she was already gone, and he was thankful that for once her lack of human emotion did him a favor.

The entirety of his spine cracked when he flipped over in bed after having not moved for hours, pinned in his spot against the wall. An awful nights sleep, horribly uncomfortable, and the whole night he feared even breathing while her face lingered just between his shoulder blades. Each time his ribcage would expand with a breath, his skin would meet hers, and for that reason he tried his hardest to keep his breaths shallow. Just to avoid physical contact, he endured the struggle for hours.

Water pipes began to trickle overhead, sloshing through the metal, and moments later the basement door opened again. His eyes shut immediately.

The same sound of her weight on the squealing staircase bombarded his ears as she descended back into the basement, and he tried his absolute best to keep his face blank when he heard the delicate patter of her feet against the cement floor.

"I know you're awake."

Harry resigned and flipped back to his position facing the wall, much to his aching bones displeasure. To his emotional displeasure, Aubry crawled back into bed behind him. She tucked herself under the loose corner of the blanket, just barely enough to cover a fraction of her body, cold feet brushed against his legs. He'd greedily held the blanket captive all night, and she hadn't been quite brave enough to demand more. Instead, she pushed herself close, the front of her body wedged against his.

"I'm cold."

Reluctantly, his grip on the blanket loosened and allowed her to pull some for herself. The residual heat his body had left felt heavenly on the chilled skin of her arms. Her forehead returned to the space between his shoulders, curling into his naked warmth, and in the day light it felt even more wrong than it had in the night.

Harry had never wanted anything more than to have her curled up in bed with him, snuggled and cuddled under the blankets to keep the cold out, skin on skin in the early morning light the way she was, but not like this. Not when it was a silent beg for forgiveness he lacked the ability to give. Not when he was naked. Emotionally, and physically naked. Stripped bare of his clothes and his morality. He stared at the crack in the foundation while chilly fingers began to brush along his ribs, much like the way she had too early in the morning along the waterfront in his parent's bed. That seemed like ages ago.

He was thankful she was clothed, because just the clothing between them made it much easier to feel less gross. Skin on skin felt wrong, even her fingertips felt wrong, but there was at least one barrier put up. One wall was still standing, cracked and on the verge of crumbling, but it was there.

A kiss was placed to the first available skin on his body, and he tried not to cringe.

"Let me sleep."

"I am."

"Stop touching me," he mumbled, trying his best to inch away into space that didn't exist. He was already as small as he could possibly make himself, and the wall blocked him in his spot. "Leave me alone."