Stockholm Syndrome [Larry Stylinson AU]

h.4

I woke up the next morning with a very stiff neck. Last night I'd just crashed onto the nearest mattress that I could find, so I hadn't exactly gotten into the most comfortable position before sleeping. But there was no way I could fall asleep again now, the sun was shining extremely brightly through the window and lit up the whole room. It was time to get up.

I climbed off the mattress, carefully so as not to wake Gemma who was still sleeping next to me, and stretched. Looking down at what I was wearing, which turned out to be yesterday's travel clothes, I didn't bother to change. I also figured that I needed to take a shower as soon as possible. Then I could get started on exploring my new home. I walked out of the room, tiptoeing around to see if my parents were awake. They were.

"Morning Harry," my mum whispered. She was just walking up the stairs, a cup of coffee in her hand.

"Morning," I replied.

"So what do you think?" she asked. She looked a little worried.

"I'm not really sure yet, I haven't had the chance to explore. I only just got up, and I really need to shower."

She nodded her head, and pointed down the hallway. "That's where dad and I slept last night, we have some towels on the dresser that you can borrow."

"Thanks." I walked down the hallway, the hard marble floor was cold against my feet. As I walked, I looked around me at the house. It was honestly beautiful, and big. Big and beautiful. The upper floor, which I was on right now, didn't really have much on it except for quite a few rooms but there was a railing at one point where you could look over and see the downstairs area. All I can say is, the interior designer did a really good job.

However as I was walking back to the room I slept in (as it had a bathroom), towel in hand, I noticed something a little strange. As modern and expensive as the furniture seemed, there was something a little odd about the house. It had a sort of lived-in feel, like someone had recently been living in it. But that wouldn't make any sense, as the house is definitely new. There was also the fact that some of the things didn't seem to be where they belonged, for example the microwave by the sofa that I discovered yesterday. But maybe it was just me.

Back in the room, Gemma still hadn't awoken. But as I have a tendency to sing in the shower, she most certainly would be awake soon. The bathroom was actually pretty nice, and quite big. There was a shower and a bathtub inside, which was pretty cool. I stripped off and stepped inside the shower, wincing and jumping back as a jet of boiling hot water streamed down on me. OUCH. I tried to turn the tap to the cold side, but the water didn't really get any colder. I guessed it was because of the hot weather outside, heating up the water pipes, but like whatever, I hate chemistry and all that. I only cared that for quite some time now I was going to have to learn to live with boiling hot showers.
Oh, the struggles of living in Dubai.

*****

Once I was showered, changed and had freshened up a bit, I met the rest of my family downstairs for breakfast. Sure enough, Gemma had woken up due to me singing.

"Morning," she said to me. "Thank you for being a free alarm clock, I really appreciate it."

"No worries," I grinned.

"Harry, I was just saying to Gemma, would you mind helping out around the house today?" my mum cut in. "There's a lot of re-arranging that needs to be done, and we really need to unpack."

"Yeah of course," I replied. "I would've helped anyways."

"We also need to buy you a school uniform, you start in a couple of days."

"Right."

"Why is all this stuff so mismatched?" Gemma suddenly asked. She must've noticed the stupid microwave as well.

My mum raked a hand through her hair, sighing. "I'm not really sure. And I'm not exactly happy about it either. We just need to sort it out."

Gemma and I nodded. "I'll start by unpacking all our things and arranging them."

"I guess I'll clean the house then," I sighed. Gemma by far had the better job.

After finishing my breakfast, I grabbed a vacuum from the closet and headed towards the living room to clean up.

I could've sworn that I saw faint outlines of muddy shoes on the floor. It was almost as if ... someone had lived inside recently and then hurried out. But my mum was stressed out enough as it was, so I kept my thoughts to myself.

*****

I had successfully cleaned up all the rooms on the upper floor and was completely exhausted. Being the clumsy fool I was, I had tripped up many times in the past few hours, gaining some lovely bruises on my arms and legs.

"HARRY, LUNCH IS READY!" Gemma yelled from downstairs and my tummy rumbled in response. My nose immediately detected the smells of barbecue chicken pizza. I ran downstairs like a mad man, my hunger consuming all my thoughts.

And maybe that was the reason I didn't see the hand that grabbed my arm, causing me to trip and fall, knocking my head against the hard marble floor.

I could faintly make out the voices of my parents calling out to me. "Harry is everything alright?" Faintly mumbling in response, I felt a pair of hands pull at my shoulders, towards my bedroom.

Assuming they were my dad's, I didn't complain as I began to drift off into an unconscious state.

*****

I woke up to blue eyes and a head of messy brown hair.