The Runaways

-5

     Mornings are coffee. Sometimes they're light, filling you with warmth and satisfaction. While other times they are bitter, dark, and perhaps cold from being left out too long and forgotten about.   Somehow this morning I knew that Harry would find something miniscule to inflate and stir up another petty conflict.  

"You slept with her?" a booming voice echoed through the house, pulling me from my slumber. 

 This morning hit me like the strong taste of bitter coffee.  

I groaned, as I sat up rubbing my eyes; my room was hazy as my senses slowly returned. Groaning, I lethargically rolled out of the warm bed. My cotton shirt was now wrinkled and had risen up above my hips. My eyes searched the floor for something to wear. I spotted Harry's light grey jumper that was rolled into a ball and clearly forgotten about; as it was halfway under my bed. I pulled it on and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging on the wall behind a pile of clothes. 

To say I looked tired would be a huge understatement. The skin on the inside of my eyes was pinkish and around that hung dark bags. My lips were pink and swollen from my recent weeks filled with long days resulting in extreme  sleep deprivation. My dark hair was a tousled mess from being carelessly thrown into a bun sometime last night.  

"Yes we slept together as in sleeping in the same bed, she literally asked me to" another muffled voice floated down the hallway, from the kitchen.

My eyes flicked away from the mirror and towards the hall where the sound of Harry and Zayn's bickering had polluted my room. I glanced once more at myself in the mirror before sauntering towards the kitchen. 

I stood at the entrance of the kitchen with my back leaning against the door frame and my brows furrowed in confusion. Where they talking about me? The white kitchen was lit from the huge window. Blinding bright light reflected off of every surface making the room much lighter. The mess from Harry's pancakes two nights ago had been forgotten about and the smell of overripe bananas filled the kitchen. Brown tinged banana peels leaned against the stovetop and an unwashed skillet lay in the center of the stove. 

Harry through his hands up in the air incredulously "What the hell?"

My eyes flickered between the two boys, and then back to my room. Should I just go back to my room and go back to sleep, to avoid this argument? Making this decision felt like deciding whether to eat a hot brownie straight out of the oven. I felt obligated to settle the raging fire that is Harry Styles but, didn't want to get burned.  

 Just as Zayn parted his lips to snap back, I decided to make my presence known. I took one jerky step forward,  looking strange because half of me just wanted to return to the safe haven that is my bed. 

I strolled over into the kitchen and stood by the sink, ignoring the tense silence the room and fallen into. The half empty clear soap bottle that I had knocked over last night was now lying at the bottom of the sink. The soap was streaming down the metal towards the drain through wavy flowy lines painting the sink a light shade of blue. The smell of artificial 'fresh linen' masked the smell of overripe bananas from the other side of the room.   

My eyes scanned the white countertop and stopped when they reached a glass. I picked up the glass and held it up, the light made some parts of the cup turn blue and others white and I turned it in the sunshine. The cup had a very similar nick on the side and the one I had shattered only hours ago. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, was this just a coincidence? It probably was, we lived in a house where the condition of our plates and cups certainly wasn't a concern. I am definitely overthinking this, and I definitely need some sleep. 

I glanced up to the cup to see Zayn and Harry back at me, awaiting my next move. I pushed myself up onto the island in the centre of the kitchen and swung my legs leg and forth, holding Harry's gaze.