"You said, no you sang, you sang that everything was gonna be alright. You said that we'll be alright, Harry. But did you mean that?"
Where Belle Olivia Granger encounters five young boys who happen to be in the biggest boyband on the planet, and sh...
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I fell asleep while tracing Harry's swallow tattoos, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my head being the sole thing that helped me drift off, but what wakes me is the bothersome ringing of Harry's cellphone.
He jolts awake beneath me at the shrill sound before gently trying to remove my head from his body and onto the pillow without waking me, but when he glances down and sees my golden eyes fluttering open and squinting away the sleepiness, he shushes me softly and says, "Sorry. Just go back to sleep, darling. It's probably nothing."
Harry's voice is so deep and raspy, still full of sleep despite the loud ringing that jolted us both awake from our perfect slumber. His curly hair is a mess and kinkier than ever as he pushes it from his eyes and rolls over, the white hotel comforter pulling off of me slightly as he unknowingly pulls it with the movement of his shirtless body.
Laying back and nuzzling deeper under the covers, I expect Harry to instantly lay back down and cradle me in his arms again, but instead he stays in his position leaning on his side, and the phone keeps annoyingly ringing. I sit up and peer over his broad shoulder to see what has him so shaken, the bright light of the phone illuminating his face with Zayn's contact calling. My eyes scrunch up in confusion when they flit over to the clock and see the red lights blinking 2:17 A.M., wonderment filling me as to why Zayn would be calling so late.
I place my hand gently on Harry's shoulder, and at my action he looks at me with worried eyes that I reciprocate, nodding at him worriedly that he should answer. It's barely been four days since Zayn left, no one hearing from him except when he called to let us know that he made it home okay, but other than that he's been silent. Harry and I are both hoping that Zayn might be calling to inform he's coming back, however we both know that probably isn't the truth of this call.
"Hello?" Harry finally answers, rolling over to sit up against the head board, voice still extremely slow and much deeper than usual, almost like his vocal chords are trying to push through peanut butter. He has one arm holding the phone up to his ear and the other crossed over his stomach while I sit up quickly, my body exposed to the cold room as soon as the sheets fall from my upper body. I sit there, leaning on my hand and nervously watching Harry's face for any signs of what could be happening.
Harry's brows are furrowed like they always are when he's listening intensely to someone, always giving them his full attention, and telling by the way he hasn't spoken since answering, Zayn must need it. The skin around my pinky finger starts to hurt with the way I've started assaulting it by roughly twisting my ring, and the metal taste of blood hits my tongue for a split second when I bite into my cheek too roughly.
"Yeah, she's right here," Harry says to Zayn as his eyes fall to me. I simply stare at him in confusion, the sleep quickly fleeting from my body.
