Roommates Unraveling

Chapter Twelve- Sleeping in Another Bed

I tried sleeping on the couch. Really, I did.

But it felt so awkward, knowing that security guards patrolled the entire house, walking through the living room to check if the terrace and billiard room were free of any intruders.

Security tried to be quiet. They turned down the volume on their communicatory devices. They crept through the living room, not making a noise.

But things happen. Earpieces fall out. In the dark of the night, the living room's white couches were barely visible. The tables and ornaments were impossible to see, and it's not like the security guards could use their flashlights while I was sleeping in the room. So there was lots of noise and chaos as guard after guard walked into the coffee table, tripped over the chevron rug and crashed into the bookshelf.

"Shit..." Another guard swore, fumbling on the floor in the dark to retrieve his fallen items. I groaned internally, getting up. Clearly, this was not working.

"I'll move room." I said with as much patience as I could. The guards looked up at me guiltily. But it wasn't their fault my bed was broken. It was Liam's. He should have been sleeping here.

"My apologies." The guard said, disappearing further into the dark.

I tucked my pillow under my arm and let my duvet trail behind me as I made my way to the hallway of bedrooms.

For a moment, I stared at the doors lining the wall, wondering if it would be better if I'd just pull an all-nighter. But it was only just past midnight. I still had hours to go.

I contemplated where to go. Liam's room? He was the one who broke my bed- he should have offered me his bed. Niall's room? He'd definitely be fast asleep; he'd gone to bed at quarter to eight. Louis' room? I'm not sure how his girlfriend would have felt about that.

Harry's room?

He did offer.

But no.

I shouldn't. I couldn't.

So I stayed outside, waiting for some form of sign that would guide me into picking a room. But there were no signs. And time ticked by. Exhaustion kicked in. I was weary, hazy, shattered. Beyond tired.

So I swallowed my pride and morality, and I knocked on Harry's door.

"Come in." He called almost immediately.

I fumbled with his doorknob, assembling myself before I walked in. He lay there wearing a white tee and checkered long pajama bottoms. His bedside table lamp was on, and he was... reading?

"I was wondering if I could sleep here..."

"Of course." He said, smirking. He slipped a bookmark onto the page he was reading and slammed it shut, moving it to the side. "I knew you'd come."

I didn't reply and remained standing in the doorway.

"Do come in." He said, fluffing the pillows on the other side of the bed.

"I'll sleep on the couch." I said, ignoring him. I walked to his couch, feeling as if I was in an alien environment. Something about this felt so weird. So personal. Intimate.

His walls were navy blue. His bedspreads were checkered shades of blue and grey. His desk was littered with musical sheets and song lyrics, and he had a lone guitar chucked behind his wardrobe. Everything about this room was exactly as I'd expect it to be. It was so him. So Harry.

"I assure you, the bed is much more comfortable." He said.

I perched on the end of the couch. "This is fine." I forced a smile, spreading out my duvet and placing my pillow. His room was much bigger than mine, which was extremely unfair, but I didn't comment on that. His irrationally large space could thankfully fit huge pieces of furniture, like his Queen sized bed and eight-seater couch.