This Feels A Lot Like Love

7. Spaces Between Us Keep Getting Deeper

Harry woke up to a message from Niall.

It simply read: Movie night at my dad's, bring beer with lots of beer Emoji's and exclamation points punctuated at the end. Harry groaned and rolled around in bed, ready to cuddle up to Zayn's nicotine tinged warmth. Except all he felt was a cold, empty bed. Huh.

Harry sat up in bed and noticed there was a folded note resting on his pillowcase. He grabbed it, his eyebrows furrowing at his name written on the front in a hasty drawl. He opened it and read Thanks for the bed last night. See you soon. Harry didn't take Zayn as the type to leave notes after sleeping with somebody, but to each their own he guessed.

"Gross," Harry murmured after tasting tangy breath on his tongue.

Harry pulled the duvet away from his sticky from sweat body. He padded into the shower and turned the creaky knob, a rush of water overflowing his hot body. He let the cool rush of water glide down his smooth skin and pool at his feet.

Harry squirted body wash into his cupped hands and rubbed underneath his arms and swiped over his groin. Water pitter pattered on his skin, raining down on the curves of his body. He grabbed the shampoo and conditioner and squirted a dollop into his palm, lathing it over his hair. He scratched the base of his scalp and dunked his head underwater. He scrubbed his hands over his face and gasped in air. He grabbed his green toothbrush and squeezed a dollop of toothpaste onto the bristles, brushing all the way to his back teeth. After two minutes, he spat, watching as the foam went down the drain. He closed the tap and climbed out, wiping his hand on the steamed mirror.

Harry didn't get enough sleep last night. He tossed and turned all night, eventually dozing off at the wee hours of the morning. The after effects were merciless. Harry's bones felt tired and heavy with lingering sleep, his skin was paler than usual and he had dark purple under-eye bags. Lovely.

Harry pulled on fresh clothes; a warm lilac jumper and light wash jeans paired with his old white Converse. He grabbed his backpack and with one last look in the mirror, ruffled his hair and pushed a headscarf through his tangled curls. He walked over to the guest bedroom and knocked quietly. At hearing no response, he pushed the door ajar and realized the room was empty. The bed was made and the pillows were fluffed up. Hm. Harry was certain it wasn't Niall's doing but probably Jade's. He appreciated the effort. He swiftly trotted down the stairs, the smell of burnt eggs and toast wafting in the air.

"Hey, mum," Harry greeted in a soft rasp.

"Morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well last night?"

Anne stirred eggs in a pan, scrambling yolks and whites together. Harry snatched a warm biscuit and spread butter over the top.

"Mmm, not really," Harry replied.

"Hmm," Anne hummed. She placed a glass of cold orange juice in front of Harry. "Maybe take some Advil tonight before you go to bed. Have a seat, breakfast's almost ready."

Harry gulped down the orange juice in a quick, few mouthfuls. The cold juice slid down his throat smoothly.

"No thanks, mum. Besides, I don't think I can muster burnt eggs."

As if on cue, the smoke detector went off, blaring noisily around the house. Anne's eyes narrowed, her green eyes scintillating against the bright light.

Harry sucked melting butter off his thumb. "Hey, mum?" he started, his voice pinged with nerves. "Is it okay if I snag a few beers and go to Niall's for the afternoon?"

Anne turned around to look at Harry sternly, her hand poised on her hip.

"Now? It's too early for drinking, Harry."