CLOSER | H.S.

22.

Scarlet's pov

"I'm terrified, but I'm not leaving."

Rihanna — Russian Roulette

-

"Where do you keep your cameras?" I bounced out of Harry's bed, scanning the room to see if I could find it.

"In the closet, first door", he lazily answered me, still lying on the bed, again on his stomach and supporting himself up with his elbows, his cozy sheets almost embracing his figure. Some time of the night, he took his shirt off again. I guess he enjoyed being shirtless as much as I enjoyed being braless.

I looked in the mirror, quickly adjusting my curls the way I liked them and then sliding the door to the side. I saw a bunch of cameras inside, all of different types messily hung on the several hooks he had. I recognised the Polaroid from Zayn's place, getting it out of the hook and examining it once again.

"Can I take one picture?" I eagerly asked him, I've never had the pleasure of taking a Polaroid picture.

"Sure. But use the Fuji camera, the film is cheaper", he took a gulp from the drink he poured himself earlier and placed it on the nightstand.

I left the camera and got another one, so big and heavy I could barely hold it in front of my face.

"What are you going to take a picture of?" He watched me.

I bit my lip, looking at the city lights. It would be a nice picture, but do you know what would be nicer?

"You", I quickly kneeled in front of him and and pressed the button, but he was faster.

"No!" He turned his head around before the flash went off, the camera making loud noises as it spit the picture from the upper side of it.

I got back up, waiting to see how it turned out.

"Don't ever do that again", he scolded, suddenly sitting up and stiffening his posture.

"What's wrong with that? It's just a picture", I shook the film in my hand, placing the camera back to where it belongs.

"Just don't. That was shitty of you, don't take photos of people without their permission", he got up and walked out of the room.

I pouted my lips, feeling a bit guilty. I looked at the photo in my hand that was slowly developing and put it in my pocket. Maybe I crossed a line here, I remember Zayn telling me about this- How he gave away every picture he had of him, not wanting anything to do with that.

Oh boy, I was getting a bad trip. I was feeling really shitty about what I did, I felt my heart shrink inside of my chest. My eyes got watery.

I took slow, dragged steps towards his living room, my body language being anything but confident.

He was over the counter taking a glass of water when he looked at me. I looked down at my toes, holding my own hands.

"I'm sorry", my fragile voice spoke. "Don't be mad at me."

"Just keep it", he harshly put the empty glass on the sink, the high noise making me jump on my spot and shriek. I looked at him, he now being the one to look away.

"Harry, I'm getting a bad trip, please don't be mad", I almost pleaded like a little child, my voice now shaking completely and the tears at the verge of falling down.

His eyes finally met mine. "I'm not mad, it's okay, don't freak out on me", he went around the counter to meet me, giving both of his hands for me to hold on to. "I'm not mad, see?" He leaned in to give me a quick peck on my lips; I had to hold back a smirk.