CONTRADICTED STARS || L. PARTRIDGE [1 | EDITING]

24. The Sweater

TO WAKE UP IN THE MIDDLE of the night has always been one of the things I hated. I end up with an unpleasant feeling of vulnerability and stripped off any sort of defense against the things I run away from.

The cold made my bones tremble. I could not get myself to move even though I had the liberty to. There was a feeling at the pit of my stomach, twisting my gut as my eyes fell on the brunet sleeping next to me.

There was that warmth again.

Why did he have to look like this? It was getting increasingly difficult to avoid to want to just admit that I understand all the rage about boys.

That was odd.

The temperature went from freezing cold to boiling hot. My fingers peeled the blanket off me as I laid flat on the bed.

Looking like I'm trying to shift, which I haven't done for the past few months. I just wanted to go to Hogwarts and hang out with the hot ones. But someone, my sleep paralysis demon to be specific, kept on interrupting.

There was a sudden stir on the bed. Perhaps Louis was a light sleeper.

"Cabrera?" he called.

I let out a breath as I slowly sat up and turned my head to him, arching my eyebrow. I then, pulled my knees to my chest which made the confusing temperature get worse.

He had his eyes half-closed. I had to admit, even in a state similar to death, he looked good.

"I'm just sitting up," I mumbled.

'He didn't ask.' There was that voice again. I hate when it comes and ruins things for me.

"I can see that." Louis replied.

"Okay," I dryly stated. I thought Louis was going to go back to sleep, but I was wrong.

The sheets rustled catalysed by his movements as he brought his body up to sit next to me. Somehow, that made things harder.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he kept his drowsy eyes active to scan every inch of my face to search for a hint regarding how I was.

"I'm fine," the mumbled answer couldn't even convince myself of it. I brushed it off with the same question. "Are you okay?"

"Yes?"

"Are you asking or answering?"

"I'm the one asking the questions, Cabrera." A sigh escaped his lips, shaking his head slightly to the side. "Do you need anything?"

"No." My answer was quick, clean, simple. No, Partridge, I do not need anything from you. At least, I think so.

Louis got off the bed, disappeared outside the bedroom as my ears picked up the clinking and clanking of glasswares and kitchen equipment. Then a few minutes passed, and he came back with a porcelain mug painted with a small cartoon-ish croissant.

It was almost funny, yet one of my brows still lifted in question.

"Chamomile tea." He said and urged me to take it. "Can make you sleep, remember?"

Of course I remember. I was the one who told him that. What came as a surprise was his memory of it. "Yeah. You take that often?" I questioned in an airy chuckle.