Law and Order- complete

VIII

I'm on the grass again. It's cold and wet against my lower, bare, back. Voices are heard above me and when I'm able to peer my heavy eyelids open, I see him.

There's nobody but him. The sky is dark behind his face, I can't make it out but it's a blur of the familiar bronze skin and fake tattoo underneath his eye. There's purple in his hair and it makes my stomach churn in discomfort, it's him.

His voice is deep and distorted as I recognize a smile creeping on his face. I can feel my chest beating rapidly as I try to move but my body is being weighed down and it feels like I'm being pulled into the ground.

"Are you sure you wanna open a case against the guy?" He asks sinisterly, his eyes widening dramatically as he smirks down on me. The corners of his smile stretch further and further across his face as his eyes grow larger until he looks like a fucking Snapchat filter.

"You aren't ready to face it."

I don't know when I'd fallen asleep, but when I wake up, it's because the sun from outside is positioned to shine directly into the window, heating up my face with its warmness. The nightmare I'd just had quickly vanished as I peer my eyes open, grimacing at the glaring heat. I'm blinking a few times to allow my eyes to adjust as Harry stirs in his sleep next to me. My chest is still thumping with adrenaline, but a couple of deep breaths through my mouth quickly help with that.

I lap my tongue over my lower lip, staring out of the window that I face. My legs are curled up in a fetal position, feet rubbing against each other mindlessly as the nightmare begins to mull in the confinements of my mind. I hadn't remembered much of it, but Ryder's daunting face and the question he'd asked me when we sat outside of the campus at the oak tree remains. Are you sure you're ready to face the guy?

Back then, I knew I fucking wasn't. I didn't even want to. It was Harry who'd convinced me. But now, the question weighs heavier than ever. As much as I need to hate him, Ryder was my best friend. We shared beds, clothes, and even makeup. I hate that with everything that's happened, there's still a part of me that wants to know why. How serious can this frat be that he'd betray his best friend of years?

The light snores emitted from Harry's nose quiet down, making me softly adjust myself in the bed so that I'm facing him.

Watching him, peacefully and snuggled up in the comforter, encourages me to inhale a deep breath through my nose, blinking slowly. His brown waves are messy atop his head, a few strands coming to lie on his forehead. His rosy lips are dry and parted open, allowing me to see the peak of his tongue as his chest rises and falls with soft breaths.

He's someone I can't help but admire, physically and mentally. I'd never tell him out loud that I look up to him. He's strong. I'm shitting bricks at one court case when he's been fighting for his innocence for ten years, stuck being guilty of a murder he didn't commit. His best friend, at that.

I wonder if his hard exterior isn't something he'd always had, but something he'd acquired after this all.

It isn't until I reach forward and move a strand of hair from his skin that his nose twitches up and his lips press together, inhaling a sharp breath through his nose. I freeze my hand on his face, waiting for him to find his way back into slumber, but instead, his brows furrow before his eyes squeeze open, revealing that beautiful pale green color that I'm always lost in.

"Morning," I flick my eyebrows up at him and offer a small smile, to which his eyes slowly blink and his tongue comes out to moisturize his lips. I don't remove my hand, not wanting to draw attention to it. And, to be honest, I don't know where his head is after last night.