The Me You Can't See (H.S)

17

TW: Brief mentions of Self Harm/ Mental Health

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Haven's POV:

Ouch.

Holy fuck I don't think I can open my eyes. My eyelids feel fused together and as I pry them open I'm shocked to be met with sunlight. I turn my head to stuff my face back into my pillow but instead I'm met with a hard surface.

Didn't I fall asleep on the floor? Taking in a deep breath my nostrils are met with a scent guaranteed to make my toes curl.

I move a bit too quickly, sitting up I rub the sleep away from my eyes and I feel as if I've been hit by a semi-truck.

Where the hell are my clothes?

Pulling the blanket tighter around me I turn around and I swear to you I think I've lost my mind. There sits Harry watching me intently, studying every movement I make as if I'm an intricate puzzle.

Looking down I notice our legs intertwined with one another and the discovery makes me flush.

That's what smelt so good.

My brows furrow and my mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out. I shut it and think while I scratch and smooth down my bedhead.

Did I sleep on him, did I sleep with him? Why didn't he wake me or leave? Most importantly what happened?

I spoke too soon because just as quickly last night memories bombard me all at once.

The kiss, my guilt, the panic attack, the crying, the breathing, but most importantly Harry.

I look at him and I know he sees the realization cross my face.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He sees the distress in my eyes and before I can say anything he beats me to it. "Sunny, relax. It's not a big deal." he says, commenting on his obvious involvement and my obvious distress.

I scramble onto unstable feet as I try to gather my wits. Harry remains seated and I can't even get myself to look at him, to ask him what he saw.

Without making eye contact I ask him what's been wracking my brain, "We didn't sleep together right?" I whisper, fiddling with my fingers. I wouldn't ask him this normally, but my lack of clothes could mean anything.

I'm really hoping the answer is no. Please be no. Please be different.

I brave my fears, looking at him only to notice that he looks at me as if I've burned him. "No, of course not. I would never. . .not unless you wanted me to."

'Not everyone is like you.' I think to myself as I give him as much of a smile as I can muster.

At least I was right about that. Certainly, there is no one quite like you Harry.

I feel the relief swarm my body. Thank god. After last night I don't know how much more I could have handled.

Nodding my head I notice Harry's gaze fall onto my bare legs, specifically my thighs. Some time between standing up and everything that came after, the cloth had slipped and my naked legs are now bared to him. I see the curiosity on his face as he focuses on my scars but I give him no more time to ogle them before I tighten my grip on the blanket, securing it around my body to cover every bit of exposed skin.

Studying my feet, he slowly begins to rise on his own and I take a step back, "I'll be in the bathroom." I turn around not ready to face his gaze. To hear his opinions.