camp cherry | hs

forty eight

HANA

A warm light blasting through an open window, allowing a light breeze to drift in, wakes me, and I instantly notice Harry is right next to me, nose in a tattered notebook and a pencil scribbling against the pages.

"Hey," I croak, my throat feeling dry and my legs numb. He glances up and places the book on his bedside table, carefully resting the pencil beside it before brushing the hair out of my face and kissing me gently.

"Hey, Cherrybaby, you missed dinner, so I brought you some food. I borrowed my dad's computer and searched what happened to you, I think you went into something called a subspace," he explains quickly, my brain moving much too slow to process this information.

"A what?"

"Subspace - it's like when you feel an overwhelming amount of pleasure, but I think the pain probably got you into the subspace."

"Hm," I hum sleepily, wincing when I shift ever so slightly and feel extremely sore, "I'm so tired."

"I know, Cherrybaby. Just eat something and then you can go back to sleep," he compromises, handing me what I presume to be a burrito wrapped in tin foil.

"Thank you," I mumble, my brain still half asleep and unable to function properly. He really fucked me that well.

"Are you alright? Are you sore? Do you need anything? I can go to the store if you want anything else," he offers, his cheeks blushing in embarrassment when I shoot over pointed glance.

"I'm alright, just stay with me," I answer, taking a large bite of the heated wrap and nodding appreciatively at the filling, spicy chilli, cheese, sour cream, "this is delicious."

"I made it myself - everyone else just had chilli, but... I presumed you liked everything I put in but if not I could make you another one," he seems relieved when I take another enjoyable bite.

"It's good," I mutter through my food, Harry smiling childishly and continuing to write in his notebook, "what are you writing?"

"Nothing," he replies, a small smile playing upon his lips.

"Tell me, bitch," I insist with a small laugh, poking him in the cheek.

"None of your business."

"Is it not? We'll see if it's none of my business when I don't fuck you for the rest of camp," I declare seriously, his face immediately falling.

"You don't mean that, right?"

"Considering how sore I feel - yes, I do mean that," I smile patronisingly, catching him off guard and taking advantage of his distracted state to grab his notebook and quickly read what he had been reading, giggling at his battle until I notice it's a song.

By the time I've read through what he has of this piece so far, he's curled up at the other end of his bed, assessing my reaction and studying my face closely, whilst his is flushed red as if he were embarrassed. I don't know much about music, and I certainly couldn't write my own, but I compliment him regardless.

"This looks really good - can you play it for me?" I ask hesitantly, knowing how shy Harry is about his music, especially when unfinished.