Harry Styles Imagines

48. You need me, too (Part III)

Harry had marked you; you could feel it the second you left the room.

Although the mark had been there before, now it was much more prominent and no matter how hard you tried to ignore the fact that he was now the official owner of your heart, it was still there and lingered like a suffocating heavy smoke that kept blocking your way from the previous events into a peaceful slumber.

Time was dragging.

Time was dragging and you were still awake, in the dark, on the suddenly inexplainably cold couch that surely felt that way only on account of you being engulfed by Harry's warmth beforehand. It was this coldness that made you realise how definitive the situation was and that scared you a bit. There were also these remorseful thoughts that continued to race through your mind when you recalled what had happened between you two, so it wasn't until later that you admitted to yourself that you weren't going to fall asleep anytime soon; you were in too deep.

Suddenly, and almost simultanously, the bedroom door creaked, indicating that you weren't the only one who had been struggling.

You pricked up your ears and reminded yourself that you needed to breathe.

As the door closed again, you'd started to fight your own internal battle; Harry's feet carefully padded on the floor and you wondered what would be the best thing to do. Pretending that you were asleep and letting him leave seemed like a good idea at first, but soon your worry got the best of you and you found yourself walking towards the kitchen.

The one you yearned and feared to see at the same time was stood leaning against the cupboard with a glas of water in his right hand. He was staring ahead, looking absolutely knackered, and even lost. Your knew that he must have been hurting.

''Are you alright?'' You softly asked, the image of crimson red blood stain on Harry's t-shirt from earlier still fresh on your mind. You weren't going to ever forget it, you could sense that.

He managed to nod before settling his gaze onto the floor in attempt to hide from you that he 'wasn't alright'. Little did he know that you'd been able to take a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes and slightly contorted face when you came.

''Come on,'' you gently took his hand in yours and led him back into the bedroom where you encouraged him to get into the bed with a smile and a nod. ''I'll get the painkillers you gave me in the car. I've got them in my bag.''

Harry did what you asked of him but barely looked at you after you'd returned with the tablets and a glas of water fetched from the kitchen.

You felt terrible, for many reasons; for the pain he had to endure because of you, for hurting his feelings the last time you were here in this room, for leaving him like that on his own, but most you regretted not giving in and letting him be yours because you were absolutely certain that if you had done it, everything would have been so much better now; you could have been soundly asleep, wrapped in each other's warmth. (...)

''Thank you.'' He raspily mumbled and it broke your heart a little more to hear him talk in the same flat tone as before. You wondered if it was going to be like that from now on; him speaking to you in that tone, and you hating yourself more and more for allowing that to happen. You could only hope that something would make it stop.

''No worries, of course.'' You answered, feeling like the stupidest, stupidest, stupidest person in the whole wide world. In the back of your mind you knew that you were probably being paranoid and exaggarated, but you'd always been like that; not able to stand living with yourself when you were sure of having done something that was irreversible and caused someone pain.