Burgundy || HS

seize

vote and comment, it's been so dry these last few chapters... it lets me know that you guys like the story xx

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When the day is gone and the night clouds the minds of the wicked, that is the time that Jane Bradley is awake. When her thoughts overcrowd her brain and the only way to get them out is through intense reading and crying and wondering why change is a necessary thing when she'd previously believed that she could make it without change. But change, she realized once she woke up with the long hair of Harry Styles grazing her stomach, was inevitable and there was nothing to do about it.

A borderline insomniac with nothing better to do other than her job and wonder what lies ahead should she not be able to continue on with whatever life she called this. She held secrets she didn't want to share. One being that she'd decided to want to move into Emilee's apartment. Would she want to tell Harry, someone that she just barely trusted with her life, that she would be leaving her inexpensive and cozy living space to be elsewhere and geographically farther away?

It would be twenty miles away from Harry's home that was beginning to hold a closet of Jane's belongings. She could no longer be the short few minutes away from Harry in case of a slight anxiety attack because they only last for ten minutes and it would take a car going at sixty miles per hour to get to Harry's home in just twenty minutes. Did she still even want to live in Emilee's home? And while those thoughts began to fade, the smell took over her senses.

She could not breathe.

It smelled like Harry, herself, musk, cologne, perfume, and sex. Pure, unadulterated sex. It didn't smell like her apartment, known as the better half of a perfume shop, it smelled like other people and activities. It scared her. And it was all a mess, really. She could not breathe. The dry heaves and sobbing woke up a slightly light sleeping Harry. Only boxers hung onto his skin and there was no light in the early morning, but the street lights shining through the window gave him a look at her silhouette.

She could not breathe.

He could hear her heart beating rapidly from where he was in the bed and quickly got up to reach her. He held her and whispered in her ear sweet nothings and how much he cared about her, all the things he loved about her. The raspiness of his voice in the early morning plus his precaution to keep his mouth away from her nose in fear of unleashing morning breath calmed her. She was drifting back into sleep.

She could breathe.

Two hours had passed since Jane's episode and she was laying beside empty sheets while Harry sat at the hotel's desk with a notepad. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew it needed to be away from Jane for just a bit. He would be back before she woke up, hopefully. His mind was too rushed and he couldn't let out his sadness and anger while Jane was around and sleeping. So, he wrote that he would be back in a bit and put it on top of her cell phone on the nightstand.

He didn't bother to shower and wash off Jane's scent or the sweat from their midnight adventures, nor did he care to put a proper coat on. It was brisk outside in very early December. Cars rushed the streets to get to work at six in the morning, and the sun had yet to rise. He drove through the city and stopped to buy a single flower on his way to his destination. He read her tombstone countless times to the point where his legs were tiring and he just sat.