favorite crime [h.s]

sixty

happy sixty chapters yay

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My head leans forward to rest my chin on his shoulder, finding no other reaction than needing to embrace him with my warmth. My arms wrap fully around his neck; our chests are pressed together. My eyes close as I let myself feel his steady heartbeat against my skin, and it slowly increases.

He's in a state of shock, not expecting me to just hug him in the middle of a dangerous event. It takes him some time to react; for a moment, he's tense and stands stiff.

"I feel the same way," I whisper into his ear.

I can't tell if he flinched or just returned to reality, but his arms embrace my back and hold me even closer to his body. His lips press a gentle kiss to my shoulder. As we stand there with our arms slung around each other, our souls become one.

"It feels foreign that you know how I feel," he murmurs. I pull him closer.

"Trust me, I understand," I reassure him.

Comfort was never something that I found in a person. I didn't think it was possible. I did have certain people to go and talk to when I was feeling low, but it was not the kind of comfort I was striving to feel. Therefore, I searched for that feeling in the things I liked. One of them was listening to classical music; it quickly became something that was calming me.

"You're my favorite person, Alison," he pronounces my full name, which slightly makes my eyebrows draw together. I pull away to increase some distance between our faces, still so close together. "And that's rare because I don't like people. No one interests me more than you do; I'd put up with your shit forever." He grins at the end of the sentence, meaning it sweetly and causing me to laugh.

"You're by far my favorite person, too." I hold his neck just beneath his jaw and rub his cheeks with my thumbs. "And by far the most handsome man I've ever seen," I add playfully, biting the side of my lip to contain my smile.

His eyes flicker down to my lips, staying there while he licks his lips in lust. I know what he's thinking about, and I want it just as much.

"Hey, we're all in the dining hall; you should get there soon," Liam's voice appears beside us, startling the both of us. We gape at him with our hands touching each other.

"Fuck off," Harry responds sharply and raises his eyebrows in warning to make him leave.

Liam laughs briefly and doesn't dare bother us another second.

Harry genuinely smiles at me like there was so much on his mind that he wanted to tell me, but he decided not to. It was enough for me; his smile assured me that he was content, and I didn't need words to tell me how he felt. I could see it in his eyes.

The massive dining hall is filled with countless round tables, where people are sitting. I assume we have our own table because Harry is guiding the way past the aisles and farther back into the room like he knows exactly where to go.

"How is it that you're never scared, Ni." I hear a glimpse of the conversation between Louis and Niall.

"I don't have anything to fear; the world should fear me," he argues proudly, swinging the wine glass in his hand.

"I would be scared too if I saw your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

Harry pulls out the chair for me, and I carefully sit, adjusting my dainty dress as I do so. I lower my gaze and smooth the material along my thighs with my palms. After pulling the fabric an inch up to cover my chest, I brush my hair behind my shoulders to expose my pure collarbones.