Fade {Harry Styles}

chapter 5

Marcel awoke with a jolt the next morning. He hadn't meant to fall asleep next to Kelsey. He had hoped to slip out onto the couch, but must have been too exhausted to bother. Instead he found himself in a tangle of limbs and sheets with his neighbor.

He mumbled something like "shit" before detaching himself from the warm body that was still fast asleep. Her steady and deep breathing hitched as he slipped from the bed, but returned to the slumber breaths as he snatched his glasses from the bedside table and tiptoed to the door. 

He scrambled to the bathroom, locking the latch that allowed him to let out the deep breath that he had been holding in, in hopes that his lack of loud breathing wouldn't awaken Kelsey.

His hands fumbled unsteadily at his clothed body as he challenged himself out of them. It was weird having his tattoos visible, actually everything was visible. 

The sound of running water echoed consistently off the small walls. Marcel stood in the shower, running his fingers along the ink that decorated his skin in varying words and patterns. So odd. 

What exactly had happened last night? He wasn't the one who had been drinking. Did he really take Kelsey back to his place because he felt responsible for her? That didn't necessarily meant he cared for her, right?

She had seemed so innocent and helpless though. She didn't know what she was getting into by allowing the strange boy's hand in her shirt and something else in her pants. He saved her from what could have been the mistake of a lifetime. He was doing what any friend would do.

Friend.

Hmm.

He slipped from the shower. Instead he focused on the process of slicking his hair back. What would the boys say to him if they saw him all dolled up as Marcel? Honestly, he wasn't sure. All the tables had flipped, leaving him in the wake of an unfamiliar mess. After the rude awakening of Zayn's engagement, he just wasn't sure how well he knew the lads. He thought they were as tight as a knot. But know, as Marcel diverted his attention to the thoughts of just how selfishly he had pushed them away, he realized it was a knot with a rather loose string.

He tucked one last strand into place before bending down to pick up what he had forgotten in his room -- clean clothes. As his fingers came to rest on the cold, tile floor his mind scuttled. Kelsey was in his room -- and so were his clothes. 

The palm of his rather large hand hit the center of his forehead as a library of foul words spilled from his mouth. Hurriedly, he wrapped a towel around the base of his torso, hoping with all his heart that Kelsey was still asleep before slipping out the bathroom door.

Her soft breathing still sounded in the room as Marcel slunk through the door and to the dresser where his Marcel clothes were stocked. The image of Kelsey sleeping was so sweet and tempting that he dared a glance at her. 

Kelsey's frame was much smaller than Marcel's and therefor took up much less room. There was still a body imprint in the sheets where he had laid, undisturbed. Her legs were curled up nearly all the way to her chest as she slept. Without Marcel's presence, she must have been rather cold. Her frizzed hair stuck up in all directions, but Marcel didn't mind. She looked so peaceful.

She stirred suddenly.

He quickly turned around, grabbing a crewneck sweatshirt and sweatpants as fast as he could. The towel that was positioned low on his waist snapped against his legs as he hurried to the door.

He wasn't fast enough.

"Marcel?" her voice was crisp and questioning. She was awake. And he was nearly naked. Shit. She hadn't seen any tattoos, right? Marcel tightly squeezed his eyes closed, keeping his back to the bed as he faced the door, hand outstretched for the knob.