𝑼𝒏𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 ✔️

4.

Monroe woke up at seven in the morning since she was so used to waking up that time for work. She slowly started to sit up but as she did she almost cried out in agony.

Harry got up immediately, his rough persona disappeared as he looked tired and worn out. "Why are you up so damn early?" He asked his voice more rough and raspy now waking up.

"I always get up this time," she shrugged. She blew her hair out of her face. It was all tangled up since she didn't comb it after her shower. "You didn't have to stay here all night." She got up slowly, gritting her teeth as sounds of pain were about to break free from her mouth. Harry helped her sit up against the headboard and sat on the edge of her bed.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay all night," he said quietly and she wanted to scoff. "Plus I thought you would attempt to go to work."

Before she could protest he placed his finger on her lip. "I'll make us some tea and then we'll talk, okay?" And she bit my lip and nodded. He stood up and walked to the kitchen rummaging through the cabinets for the tea.

Monroe was nervous- beyond nervous to tell him what happened last night. She didn't trust him to tell him how she actually felt so knew she had to bullshit it.

She looked over at Harry to see that his shirt was off and all his stories were on his body. Every dot of ink was a story she wanted to know. The detail of the heart, the delicates of the butterfly, the defines of the anchor, The words littering all over his body.

"You stare a lot," he commented and she shook out of her gaze as she blushed.

"Sorry... um I-" she shook her head. "Never mind." Harry brought the tea and sat down beside her taking a sip of his.

"You don't have to be inked up to have stories," he spoke quietly and she gazed at him quickly before looking down at her tea.

"I-I-"

"You could be inked internally. All your stories could be marked in your head and in your heart... just because you can't physically see it doesn't mean it's not there."

"Where are you getting at?" She questioned.

"Let me know your stories," he spoke and she laughed and shook her head.

"You said that you wanted to know what happened last night."

"And I do," he stated.

"Then why are you asking me something completely personal?"

"Because I know that it all leads up to what happened last night."

He knew too much for his own good.

"My 'stories' are not some... some book it's not written down it's rough and patchy and too messed up to be shared."

"A story doesn't have to be written for it to be a story."

"I don't want to tell you," Monroe said quietly. She only knew Harry for a week and they've only talked so much and she frankly didn't trust him let alone anyone.

"Okay," he said quietly. He put his tea on her dresser and took her as well. "Lay down and get some rest." He was angry that she didn't tell him and she didn't want him to be angry but she just couldn't.

"I'll see you around Monroe," he said and she looked at him confused as he put his shirt on. "So that's it you're just leaving?" She asked kind of hurt.