witness || h.s.|| ON HOLD

seventeen || morning showers and awkward stares

the song for this chapter is The Meaning, by FKi 1st and Post Malone

Tate

I woke up the next morning with no knowledge that I had even fallen asleep. I panicked for a bit when I first woke up in the strange bed and then panicked a little more when I rolled over and saw Harry still fast asleep.

    It was odd to see him like this, so peaceful. He didn't have that crease that he tended to have in between his eyebrows. His face wasn't set in a scowl. He looked relaxed, his dark eyelashes fanning out around his eyes, and his plush pink lips were slightly parted. Dark curls were strewn across his forehead, and I watched as his tattooed chest rose up and down.

 The pillow wall that Harry had placed in between us was still there, and Harry had one of his muscular arms hooked around it, the edges of his fingertips only a few inches away from my face.

 "What did I tell you about staring?" he suddenly mumbled, his morning voice much deeper and raspier than it usually was. I felt a blush beginning to creep up on my cheeks, and I tore my gaze away from him.

"It's okay," he continued, his eyes still closed, "I'm used to having women stare at me."

A smug grin spread across his lips, and I rolled my eyes at his cocky remark.

"I saw that," he stated, causing my eyes to widen.

"How? Your eyes are closed," I spoke in disbelief.

He shrugged. "I see everything, sweetheart. It's why you weren't able to pull a fast one on me last night. I have a sixth sense."

I scoffed, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. "No, the only reason you caught me last night was because my dumb ass knocked some books onto the floor."

"Your words, not mine," he laughed and I felt him shifting in the bed.

It was quiet for a moment before I chose to break the silence.

"Can I um...take a shower?" I asked.

"Be my guest," he answered, raising one of his arms and gesturing towards the bathroom door.

I was more excited than I had been in a while for a hot shower. I was already dreaming of the warm water skimming over my skin as I pushed the covers back and began to walk over to my duffle. 

I picked it up and placed it on top of the chest of drawers, unzipping it and reaching in to grab a fresh set of clothes. I felt eyes on me and I flicked my gaze to the round mirror placed above the dresser, seeing Harry's green eyes set on me. I tore my stare away from his, looking back to the dresser, about to walk away when something caught my eye.

The same knife that Harry had held to me that night in the alleyway.

I looked at it intently, my main focus being on the initials engraved on the side, R.G.M.

"Harry?" I asked, and he hummed in response.

"Why does your knife have the initials R.G.M engraved on it?"

He was quiet for a second, and I brought my eyes back to the mirror and saw Harry with his hands folded on his chest, staring at the ceiling. 

"Because it's not my knife," he answered in an even tone.

I rolled my eyes, not surprised at his answer. 

"Oh, so you stole it from someone then," I scoffed, grabbing my clothes and turning around to face him.