walls | h.s

thirty-eight.

It wasn't easy to fall asleep and it took me ages until my eyelids felt heavy. I wanted to think about something relaxing, something that made me get tired and help me fall asleep, but my mind was way too occupied with other things.

I wasn't mad at Harry; at least I didn't think I was. I was annoyed but not only at him, but also at myself. It irritated me how he treated me, he acted like I'm some kind of child who can't do a single thing right and even though I could somehow understand where he was coming from, he overreacted.

He didn't have to be so rude and call me child and make me feel bad about myself. What I did was kind of stupid but at the moment I just didn't think about it.

The last time I looked at the clock that was standing on the nightstand next to Harry's bed it showed 11pm. I was drifting off to sleep when I heard the door crack open. I kept my eyes shut and pretended that I was asleep.

I felt the bed dig in and I didn't even have to open my eyes to see that it was Harry who was in the room. A quiet sigh left his lips and I could hear him say quietly,

"I'm sorry," his voice was just above his whisper and I felt him press his lips softly against my forehead, lingering there for a few seconds.

The warmth that came with his touch was gone when he pulled away. I heard him grabbing a blanket and his footsteps told me he was walking to the door. I bit down on the inside of my cheeks, opened my eyes and looked at him.

His back was facing me, his shoulders were slumped slightly and his hair was messily on top of his head.

"Where are you going?" I asked quietly, my voice hoarse from crying.

He turned around and looked at me, the only thing that was illuminating the room was the moon and I could see the guilt in his face. The bags under his eyes were huge and he seemed to be so tired. He avoided eye contact with me and cleared his throat before answering.

"Downstairs," his voice was soft and seemed to fit the situation, as weird as that sounds. "To sleep on the couch."

I felt a little part of my heart break and I looked at him, not saying a single word for a few seconds. Why would he want to sleep on the couch? We did have a fight, yes, but this is his bed after all. If someone should sleep on the couch, it should be me.

"Stay," was all I said and finally, his emerald eyes met mine. His teeth were holding his bottom lip and he looked at me, relieve flashing behind his eyes.

"I thought you'd like to have some time for yourself, like you said." He took a few steps until he was standing next to the bed.

I shook my head. "I had time for myself. I don't want you to sleep on the couch."

Without another word, he took off his shirt and his pants, leaving him just in his boxers. I tried my best not to stare, but it was hard not to.

I shifted to give him some space in his bed and he got in, getting under the blanket. He kept his distance from me and folded his hands together, resting them on his stomach. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling and I don't think I've ever seen him this vulnerable before. He was so quiet, seemed to be so thoughtful and he didn't touch me.

"Good night," he whispered and we lay there for just a few minutes.

I was still annoyed and hurt, but I didn't want the atmosphere between us to be like that. I still wasn't okay with how he treated me, it reminded me of my dad and that just scared me. I was going to talk to him tomorrow but for now, I just wanted to be close to him.

I shuffled on the bed until my body was pressed into his side and my arms wrapped around his torso, my face cuddling into chest. His skin was so warm, it's always like that, and to feel his skin against mine comforted me in some way.