Syndrome // H.S.

12. I'll Be Seeing You

When all the light had left the sky and we could no longer search for four-leaf clovers, I decided I no longer had an excuse to continue laying in the grass with Harry. The truth is, I had finished looking through all the clover in my reach long before the sun went down completely. However, I had enjoyed feeling the side of his body pressed against mine too much to get up and ruin it.

And that confused the hell out of me.

I hate Harry; I hate all of them in fact. So why did I like laying next to him so much, especially after he had just confirmed that they would be killing me the second I no longer served any use to them? And why did I like the way his ring-clad hand felt on top of mine? I remember I had to fight the urge to face my palm upwards and lace our fingers together.

I had told Harry that I was tired and going to go to bed, but that was a lie. Once I was back in the room, I found Zayn still asleep. I don't think he ever even woke up from his nap, because he was still laying on top of the blankets in the clothes he'd worn that day. I had quickly changed into pajamas and crawled on the bed next to him. I thought about trying to slip under the covers on my side, but was worried it would wake him up. 

As I laid down, the movement of the mattress disturbed him anyways. I watched as he moved from being on his back and onto his side facing me, mumbling in his sleep. "It's okay, I'll be there in a minute," he told me. I ignored him, closing my eyes. 

I laid there for what felt like forever. Sleep never came. My body was wired after spending the evening with Harry. Even if I had been able to shut my mind down, Zayn had a lot to say tonight. Some phrases were unintelligible, while others I could understand even if they made no sense. That is until I heard him sigh and speak once again.

"Just give it to Harry."

My eyes flew open at the curly-haired man's name, feeling the need to double check that his eyes were still closed. They were, confirming that he was sleep talking about Harry. I huffed and rolled over onto my back, letting the back of my hand fly to my fevered forehead. What was wrong with me? Even the sound of his name brought my body to full attention. 

I ended up laying there for hours before I could finally feel the exhaustion taking over. In between Zayn's mumbled words and the sound of the air heater, I was eventually lulled into sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I could tell I was in bed alone, but there was a scent of vanilla in the air.

I also had a blanket over me, which was weird because I know I had fallen asleep uncovered. I blinked my eyes open and looked around the room. It was dark thanks to the curtains, but I could see it was daylight around the edges of it. My eyes landed on Zayn, who was sitting at the desk. I could just barely make out what his silhouette was doing: snorting lines.

I caught his attention when I sat up and yawned. "Morning," he said. "Kind of."

I frowned and looked at the at the alarm clock on the night stand, seeing it was past 2:30. I never slept this late, but it had to be early morning before I actually fell asleep. 

"Where'd the blanket come from," my voice coming out a bit sleepier than I meant it to. 

"Harry."

I froze. "What?"

"He came by earlier to bring us food. He wanted to wake you up but I wouldn't let him, and he saw that you were uncovered. The blanket is from his and Louis' bed."

That explains the vanilla scent; it was one I knew to be uniquely Harry's. God, I fell asleep thinking about him and now I'm waking up thinking about him.