The Unlikable (Book One) // h.s. [COMPLETE]

Chapter 53

I read my book as Harry continued to play the piano for who knows how many more hours until he came to bed. I'm sure his family was used to him being all sulky and strangly into his music obsession since he was a kid. It was oddly relaxing to fall asleep to his beautiful notes. I certainly didn't expect the comfort in it that I got out of it.

He slid under the covers and spooned into my side.

"Tired?" I asked him, sleep laced on my voice.

"Not really," he replied as he let a hot breath fan across my neck.

"Care to tell me about your tattoos?" I asked finally remembering to ask him about my silly curiosity. I've only been dwelling on it since the time I had the tray spilled on me at lunch at the beginning of the year, and he took his shirt off for me to borrow and I saw the several random black tattoos coating the inside of his bicep.

He huffed and turned to the side of the bed, pulling the covers up and turning the lamp on. I shifted to my other side so I could see his tattoos displayed for my eyes only. He pointed to a dark black mop just under his armpit hair.

"What's that one about?" I asked wiping the sleep from my eyes, excited for the new story about my lost boy.

"That's for when I beat this man with a mop the last time I went back home for abusing my sister as a child," he mumbled with a lazy accent and looked at me with his tired eyes.

I could've started an argument with him, but decided against it. I was too excited to learn more about him and to hear all the rest of their meanings. Every single one was so hot on him. But I'm definitely going to have to talk to him about this later, he can't just beat people with mops...

"What about that one?" I asked as I pointed to the border of a star.

"That's a symbol for when I become the great man in history." That wonderful smirk formed on his pink lips. I was so happy that he was able to find something in his life to make him joyous. "I got one with Charles and Daphne. Then Daphne decided she didn't want to be in our band anymore. As well with Charles. Now it's just me..." Harry layed his head back down on the fluffy pillow still keeping his tired eyes on me.

"Have you ever wanted to get a tattoo?" he asked me, pooching his lips out in return.

"Yeah one day..." I shrugged as I traced the outline of the star with my fingernail.

"What would you get?"

"A butterfly."

"Fuck..." Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Harry you didn't let me finish," I laughed and rested my hands on his chest. "I'd get a butterfly on my stomach as symbolization of craziness in my life, anxiety, peacelessness. Something I've always had. I've always known. I've never been to the point where I'm all in happy, exuberant. There's always that little devil sitting on my shoulder whispering, sometimes even yelling, how powerless I am in my own life and that's what starts the butterflies in my tummy."

He kind of looked at me for a second, taking what I had said in. I hadn't honestly thought about it that much in depth, but now I wanted it so much more. He bit his lip and I realized he probably thought it was still stupid.

"Sorry, your right...It's dumb..." I shook my head and went under the covers, hiding away my fears of vulnerability.

Harry sighed and spooned in behind me. "It's not dumb. It makes sense." He kissed my shoulder tip and traced his finger over my scar where I had been in the car accident months ago.

"Go to sleep, my love."

He said it again, my love...

The jingling of change woke me up. The sound of rustling pockets, someone getting ready for the day ahead of them. My eyes fluttered open to the beautiful view of my boyfriend with his curls hidden underneath a SnapBack and a long sleeve black T-shirt and an actual pair of blue skinny jeans with a pair of white vans on. What is he wearing? He looks like Vincent?