More than a Melody (H.S) ON HOLD

19

nineteen

The bed is empty, the sheets crinkled and cold, the warmth of what once was now gone.

Sunlight pillows itself in odd clusters throughout the room, a room I can't recognize at first. All I know is that it isn't my own.

And then I see rings placed along the dresser and a familiar t-shirt draped along its side and I know: I'm in Harry's room.

The comforter is covering only part of me, knees tucked in and cheek resting against the mattress. I notice the door is partially open, the wafting scent of coffee waking me completely far before the sunlight can.

Swinging my legs over, I stand from the bed and cross my arms, attempting to make up for the lost warmth. I shuffle towards the opening of the door and slip through into the hallway. Natural lighting floods down into the floorboards, intermixing its cinnamony depths with the morning grace.

"Good morning," I say groggily, unsure of the time but knowing it must be relatively early.

"Oh, morning, you snuck up on me," Harry stands with two mugs cushioned in his hands, he slides the yellow one my way.

"Is it-,"

"Decaf? Yeah." He winks.

I smile giddily and bring the darkened beverage to my lips, the heat of the steam grazing my cheeks with a cautious embrace. I take a sip as Harry leans his elbows into the counter before me.

"I'm not much of a chef, but I can make some killer eggs."

"Really now?"

"Really."

"Well I'm not much of a Katie Lee, but I can make one great food critic."

He snakes his way over to the fridge, a smile playing across his lips, "challenge accepted."

I sip my beverage while he gets started on the eggs, thoughts of last night's conversation filtering back through my mind with persistence. As much as I wanted to forget about Easton's bet against me, it left a sickly feeling within me, one that I couldn't seem to shake. And I knew the only solution to that would be to confront him head on, to place an immediate end to this game of his.

I wasn't one for confrontation, though, and because of this I had no idea how I was going to approach the situation. All I knew was that I needed to.

"How'd you sleep?" Harry asks, distracting me from my consuming thoughts.

"Pretty great, actually. Hope my snoring didn't wake you."

He smirks, "hardly noticed. I meant to ask how your nightmares have been?"

Nightmares. I nearly forgot about them. The dream catcher worked wonders, and whether that was merely a placebo on my end or its true effects, I wasn't sure. But they were gone for the time being and that's what mattered.

"Gone, for now, at least. Knock on wood."

He brings his knuckles up and taps the cabinets, "that's good. Do you have them often?"