Malefactor [H.S.]

28

The sound of something crashing to the ground has my eyes ripping open.

I go to shoot up in search of the source of noise but find I'm rooted down to the bed. I momentarily panic, my brain immediately going to the worst-case scenario and, for some reason, believing I've been kidnapped in my sleep and am now shackled to the bed. Obviously, this isn't the case, and when I realize what is holding me down, I'm left even more confused.

A set of arms are wrapped tightly around my waist, my back pressed against a warm chest. I don't have to look to know exactly who it is that's holding me.

"Cam," Niall whispers. I blink rapidly, my head poking up as high as it can go. He's standing in the corner of my room, carrying a bunch of shoes. "Are you awake?"

"No, I'm sleep talking," I roll my eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Getting my shit," he shrugs. His eyes shift down to the bed, to Harry. He smirks. "I should be the one asking what you're doing."

"Get out."

"Fine."

He leaves the room but not without shutting the door harder than he should. My eyes widen, head shooting back down to the pillow as I feel Harry begin to stir behind me. The hand resting on my stomach flexes, his fingers brushing against my abdomen. I try to stay as still as possible, squeezing my eyes shut.

I'm terrified of how he's going to react if he wakes up and we're like this. We're both to blame all while being innocent at the same time. I mean, you can't exactly control how you move around in your sleep. Actually, if anything, Harry is more at fault for this since he's the one who took his arms and decided to hold me.

Oh fuck, he's holding me. This is certainly new.

The paranoia of how he'll react subsides as his breathing steadies out, small puffs hitting the back of my neck in a steady rhythm. I can feel his chest rising and falling in time with his breaths, making no indication that he's awake. I don't know how Niall didn't wake him up, but somehow, he slept through it.

And then my phone begins to loudly buzz against the nightstand. I jump, my arms stuck to my sides from the hold Harry has on me. He stays still for a few more moments, making me believe he's actually still asleep. But then he pulls me tighter into him, curling around my body like a baby.

I freeze.

He brushes his hand up and down my stomach, leaving me unable to stop goosebumps from spreading across my body. An explosion of butterflies erupts in my stomach.

"I know you're awake," he rasps, his incredibly deep morning catching me off guard.

"No, I'm not," I decide to lie.

"Right," he laughs, pulling one arm back. The other one remains wrapped around me. I can feel the bed shake as he stretches, suddenly flipping me over so that I'm facing him. A surprised gasp leaves me. "You look pretty awake to me."

His lips are pressed upwards into a pleasant smile, almost looking fuller from rest. His eyes are puffy from sleep, the vibrant green irises almost entirely hidden by his hooded lids. There's a youthful glow to his face. I have no clue how old Harry is, knowing he's at least twenty-one and assuming he's not much older than Zayn, if that. Still, he looks incredibly innocent and young when sleep is still fresh in his eyes. None of that same hardness he carries with himself throughout the day and well into the night is present.

With the hand that's still gripping me, he drums his fingers along my waist.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I croak out.