(DISCONTINUED)

○ 1.1 :: Bruises ○

Dedicated to marcel980 for voting, commenting, following me and for telling me I'm her favourite writer.

[[*rolls on floor shrieking and fangirling* *awkardly gets up and clears throat*
Also bc you're so cool and you really wanna know what happens :) x]]

I picked up my phone and unlocked the screen.

2:53 am.

Why the fúck was I up at such an ungodly hour?

I sat up with a groan in the dark room, the only source of light coming from the crack beneath the room's door leading to the hallway. Frida and Niall were cuddling in their bed, Niall on his back snoring loudly and Frida huddled into his side with her arm around his middle - also snoring, but not as loud as her boyfriend. Was Niall her boyfriend? Had they made it official or was it one of those relationships where they didn't have titles, or just assumed that they were an item? I'm sure Frida would've kept me updated, but to be honest, did their relationship really need any confirmation? They were about to have sex on my bed two days ago, for goodness' sake.

And apparently, they had gone uninterrupted after their first(?) date.

The pressure in my bladder stopped me from getting any further in my thoughts about Friall getting it on, but I was glad. I most definitely didn't need to imagine neither my best friend nor Niall having sex, much less with each other. I shuddered as my fluffy bed socks hit the carpeted floor and I made my way to the bathroom. The tiles felt cool even through the socks, and I was grateful that I never slept barefoot. After relieving my bladder with squinted eyes and blurry eyesight, my vision finally adjusted as I washed my hands.

And then I heard it.

Soft tapping, coming from the room.

I quickly wiped my hands on a nearby towel and hurried out. To do what exactly, I didn't know. What if there had been a murderer in the room and I had just rushed out to my death without a weapon? What if it was just Friall who had woken up and decided they were ready for a lazy round two?

The tapping started again, and this time I followed the sound to the door, noticing for the first time that there were shadows moving around in the small strip of light beneath it. What then? Did I answer it? What if it was just a drunk idiot coming back from a party?

The tapping restarted, but louder. Half of me was glad that Frida and Niall were such heavy sleepers, but the other half yearned to wake them up and ask them what I should've done. I walked closer to the door until I was a few inches away. "Wh-who is it?" I called hesitantly, already regretting my decision to let the intruder know I was home.

"Pumpkin," a raspy northern accent whispered.

I knew that voice anywhere, and the extra raspiness in it only served as a reminder of the laundry room fiasco. I yanked open the door to find Harry leaning against the doorway, his arm shielding his face. "What the hell are you doing here past three am?" I hissed. "Where did you go earlier?" He didn't move. "Do you wanna know how the dinner with my mother went? It didn't, and it was a load of-"

Harry removed his arm from his face.

"Holy shít." The words came out before I could stop them as I spotted the injuries covering his face. God, his beautiful face. "Fúck, Harry, come in." I tugged on his arm and pushed him into a sitting position on the bed.

"Not exactly how I imagined that would happen," he mumbled.

I ignored the remark with blushing cheeks. "What happened?" It was still relatively dark, but I had forgotten to turn the bathroom light off so there was more than enough light to see the bruises. Harry's jaw was positively littered with them, and there was a small cut above his eyebrow. His cheek was slightly swollen and discoloured. That would bruise up if I didn't get some ice on it, and quick.