scarred wings (l.s.)

six

When I walk into the kitchen the next morning, Harry is still asleep. I stand there for a while, watching him and admiring how peaceful he looks.

It still hurts so much, thinking about the heartbroken cries coming from the kitchen last night. I can’t bear the thought of him being so hurt even though I don’t even know him.

I don’t wake him but walk to uni as fast as possible, still arriving drenched and exhausted. I drop down next to Maya, the girl from yesterday and smile at her.

“Better morning today?”, she asks and grins.

“A little, maybe.”

I update her on the last twelve hours within the lecture and she ends up rolling her eyes but smiling in the end.
“Wow, you really are some hero.”

“Not really though, sadly. Just cause I offered it to him because I felt sorry doesn’t make me a better person.”

She shrugs. “I get your point, I really do. I still think it’s a brave thing to do. Sure, maybe it was an excuse to not to talk to your father at first but now it’s not that. It’s you helping someone who’s stuck in a bad situation out. That’s a pretty cool thing to do, Louis.”

I shrug again and nod before the professor ends the lecture a little too early and I say goodbye to Maya with a smile, leaving the auditorium and looking for some of my friends in the hallways.

Both Amelia, Niall and me have a free hour in between so we sit down on the campus, eating from the snacks Amelia brought.

I explain the whole story to them as well and in the end they both stare at me, Niall with a big grin on his face, Amelia with wide opened eyes.

“That’s so cool”, Niall shouts, “Is he hot, too?”

I slap his arm and wait for Amelia’s reaction. “That’s crazy, Harry. You shouldn’t have done it. I bet either your whole flat will be empty or he’ll wait for you with a gun when you come home.”

I frown. “He’s not like that.”

Amelia just laughs out loud and grabs a handful of crackers before stuffing them all into her mouth. “You’ve talked to him twice, maybe? Lou, you can’t know what he’s like.”

And I know that. I know I shouldn’t even have trusted him in the first place, know that it was probably a bad idea to let him sleep over but I felt so bad, so guilty, I had to do it.

“He won’t use me.”

~~~

It’s pretty early when I walk home, skipping the last lecture because I suddenly got really nervous after talking to Amelia. She’s right. I have no idea what he’ll do.

I start walking really fast, trying not to panic and start overthinking. He probably just left. My flat won’t be destroyed and he won’t wait with a knife in his hand either.

I fumble for my keys nervously, unlocking the door and stepping inside. Nothing is destroyed, everything is still as untidied as it was before and I can’t spot a knife anywhere.

I walk into the kitchen and let out a relieved sigh, feeling guilty because I thought like that about him.

He never would’ve done something like this. I knew I could trust him; knew he wasn’t like that. It was Amelia who made me unsure of it but I never should’ve questioned my decision in the first place.

He’s asleep, still in the same position as this morning, not having moved an inch. His eyes are closed shut and his hair is falling into his face in little curls.

I smile a little and have the sudden urge to move my hand through his hair. I think about waking him up for a moment but let it go, he looks like he needs some rest.

I want to turn around just when he opens his eyes slightly. He flinches, sitting up straight immediately.

“Sorry”, I whisper, “Didn’t want to scare you.”

“Sorry”, he says, hoarse voice cracking as he tries to speak up, “Slept until now, I wanted to leave.”

It comes out as a whisper and he coughs right afterwards, shutting his eyes and frowning. He looks hurt, tired and sick.

“I don’t think you should leave. You look sick.”

He shrugs, to tired to discuss and nods a bit before resting his head against the couch.

I take a step closer. “Can I?”, I ask laying the back of my hand against his forehead.
He tenses up under the slight touch a little, frowning but nodding softly.

“You have a fever”, I say, “I’ll get you some medicine.”

He nods slowly and carefully, closing his eyes and waiting for me to come back from the bathroom. I grab some pills and a wet, small towel for his head.

“Thanks”, he mumbles, “I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

I don’t say anything because I don’t mind him staying here, I really don’t. “Take those. Hungry? I was gonna make some lunch anyways, fancy some soup?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think I can, um, I don’t have any money.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, it’s not like soup was that expensive. Don’t worry about it.”

He doesn’t really agree first but then he lifts the corner of his mouth just a little so that it nearly looks like a smile. It makes me feel all warm, seeing him not all sad.

He looks a little confused to why I would do this when I hand him a bowl with soup a few minutes later. I am not even sure why. I think I just felt like having to help him, like having to somehow make him feel a little better.

“Enjoy”, I say, “I’m not the best cook so I hope it turned out alright.”

He smiles now, the first real smile of him I ever saw and nods, blowing into the soup so it gets a little colder. He takes the first sip and I watch him, hoping it won’t turn out too bad.

“’S good”, he says, “Thanks.”

We finish the soup in silence and I spend the rest of the day sitting in my room, finishing the essay while he’s probably asleep in the kitchen.

~~~

<3