the journal - h.s.

25

I threw myself back onto the comfortable mattress, still feeling the aftereffects from the nightmare ghostly haunting my body. If it wasn't for the fact that it practically had scared the living life out of me, I would probably have been slightly embarrassed over the fact that I had dreamt about him. And furthermore - dreamt about him in my bed. With me. In the perfect moment of my day.

Unfortunately the sky outside today was grey and boring with not even the simplest most faint sunbeam escaping through the thick threatening layer of clouds, which was hanging unusually low this morning. The weather and that most awful dream had kind of prevented me from waking up to my actual real-life, perfect moment. But somehow I couldn't help feeling, that the moment in the dream had somehow made up for it. Right until he had opened his eyes and the dream had turned into a nightmare.

I tried to recall last night at Jenny's. What had happened after we had left the appartment? My memories slowly becoming clearer I started to remember.

[a/n: flashback start - and it's gonna last the chapter out and for some of the next one too!]

I wasn't sure how the hell he managed it - but somehow Harry got Zayn down the endless narrow staircase and into the fresh night air. Zayn and Jenny had led the conversation with me leading the way and Jenny had been last occasionally some loud shrieks and following giggles came from her when she lost her balance. I was glad they had been filling the silence with their drunk-talking, which had been slightly amusing but most of all had made sure I didn't need to keep the conversation going - or Harry for that matter. Occasionally he would comment with a quirky funny thing, which made the two drunk heads burst into laughter. Apparently everything was hilarious in their state.

"See Zayn - cherry shot really isn't that girly!" Jenny tried saying in a half yelled whisper, as one of the neighbors had just yelled at us to shut the hell up.

"But it's not very masculine either," Zayn managed to utter as he fought with keeping his balance and speaking all at once - even with Harry supporting him.

"Oh come on! A man with a cherry," she exclaimed loudly making Harry turn his head and hush at her. With a much lower voice she continued giving him an evil stare in the process, "- that's kinda hot though."

I chuckled at her honesty and Zayn just frowned as if he tried finding a proper respond to that.

"It's like colors. It's funny how warmer colors are considered girly - and more cold colors like blue and green are considered boyish," Harry stated thougtfully. His raspy low voice was calm and mature compared to the other two. I smiled down at my shoes at his statement, and I realized this last turn was to the door. Finally.

As Zayn found it extremely hilarious to joke about how women actually could be both pretty icecold and on fire when they were angry - and Jenny telling him to shut up, I pushed the door open.

I gasped at the sight, my eyes growing wide. How the hell?

Everything. Every plain surface was covered in an icy paper thin layer of frost. So frustrated with the fact, that it was that cold I didn't even notice the beauty of the flickers, which the tiny crystals created. It was a layer of thin glitter almost. The kind of see through layer, which would melt if the temperature went up even just one or two degrees.