Body Paint (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Thirty One.

It was three in the morning before Aubry was lugged back to bed, shivering from the cold tiled floor, tears dried, but too tired to put up a fight when Harry took it upon himself to help her dress. Her body was dead weight when she plummeted back into her spot beside the wall, and he was silent when he curled in behind her.

The comfort that was brought wasn't physical. He knew better than to try to reach out and brush his fingers against her skin, so he kept his distance. He knew better than to speak, so he kept his mouth shut. He knew better than to attempt to soothe, so he didn't... but he was there. Not just in the way of it being his bed too and having no choice but to occupy the space beside her body, but there just to be there in case she did need something. He was there to be there, because she needed him to be. She didn't need sympathy, she didn't want to be held, but she did want him to sit and lay and stare at the wall for hours until the sun rose, and he never fell asleep because she didn't.

She stared at the brick wall, and he stared at the sky when it began to turn bright. Hours passed and not a word was spoken. Not a single touch was shared, and that was all that was needed.

It was light outside before he watched the rise and fall of her shoulders slow with her breaths, the same rhythm he'd listened to through the nights of the passed months, and he knew slumber had finally taken it's hold. He'd nearly fallen victim countless times through the night, but almost as if she sensed his sleep as easily as he did hers, she would shift, and his mind would wake in a blink of an eye.

He left her to be when the clock struck seven, when his own guts churned unpleasantly and sought out vengeance for the constant stress he'd endured through the night. Stress always attacked his belly first, and he spent the morning locked in the bathroom. He wanted so badly to be kind and make breakfast, but exhaustion had him laying under a throw blanket across the couch cushions trying to keep his eyelids open. He stared at dust particles floating in rays of sunshine streaming in from the windows, and eventually fell asleep anyway.

Only for a short time, because his phone ringing was what woke him. Placed too close to his head, the sound startled him awake in an instant, head popping up in fright.

It was Aubry's mother, and his stress bellyache returned.

The call was answered anyway. Simply because Aubry's phone was lost somewhere under the bed and she wasn't answering, Harry learned details Aubry hadn't been patient enough to hear about exactly what was going on back home.

She was still asleep when he got another call with news he didn't want to share with her himself. His stomach was sick all over again.

She slept until dark. Avoidance was her specialty.

Everyone in the house knew before she did.

He was fooled into thinking she was asleep for longer than she truly was, because even after she regained consciousness, she never left her spot. The staring game with the wall continued in the dark for hours, until Harry became concerned and willed himself to peek in. As soon as the door popped open, she turned, eyes locking with his figure through the dark.

"You're awake."

She only nodded, turning back to face the wall when she heard the latch of the door catch shut. The weight of him climbing on to sit shook the bed.

"Do you want to talk?"

Her head shook in refusal.

Silence. Anxiousness in his belly.

"You don't have to talk to me," he assured, words so gentle, and yet still seeming displaced in the quiet. "Do you want your mom?"

Her head shook even harder.