DRIFTED |Harry Styles|

CHAPTER 31

I changed into a floral, flowy dress I had left at Harry's some time ago and nude heels, actually putting some effort on my looks for the first time in a very long time. I curled my hair and applied some make up, while Harry kept watching me from the bed, chuckling every time I'd mess up my eyeliner or mascara.

I was decided on having a good time and to stop overthinking things, at least for one night. That was my main problem, overthinking was something I've been doing since I was very young and it always prevented me from doing a lot of things, especially when it came to my physical figure.

I've always been so insecure about my body. Always too thin and short, clumsy and bony. Then, for a short amount of time, during my teenage years, I gained some weight and started to feel better about myself, more confident and comfortable in my own skin, but not long after that I lost all of those extra pounds and my insecurities came back in full force.

I was feeling small and fragile, not only physically, but also emotionally, I prayed every night to feel strong again, to feel at least a little bit more confident and ready to move on, to finally be ready to put my past behind me and think about my future. But it was really hard, when I could hardly decide if I wanted to go to class the next day or just skip it, if I wanted to have lunch or just lay in bed. I couldn't see ahead of myself, despite all of my efforts, I couldn't see any future for me.

It seemed like, since I wasn't able to worry about my future anymore, Harry decided to do it for me. He was constantly asking me if I needed any help to change my major, when I was going to talk to my mom about it, if I had already thought about searching for a job in a gallery in town or in another town nearby, for God's sakes, he even built a studio for me from scratch.

His faith in me was the only thing that kept me going. His strength seemed to be enough for the both of us, so I fed on it. I used his strength and faith as my own, sucking it out of him as much as I could, to which he gladly allowed me to.

Each day that passed, I grew more certain that he was too good for me and what once motivated me to be there for him so he could get over his past was now lost inside my own tragic fate.

"Ready?" He clapped his hands and stood up from the bed. "Yep." I smiled shyly, as I finished applying my lip gloss. He took a step towards me, bringing his big hands to caress my cheeks, thumbs gently running over my jaw, as he looked at me with soft eyes. "You look incredible, love." He winked and kissed my lips.

I didn't want to admit to myself, but, oh, how have I missed his lips on mine. Those last weeks, we had barely touched or kissed each other, only when I was having breakdowns and he would comfort me in his arms, but despite that, we would barely hold hands.

I missed our proximity, I missed his warmth and his touch, but I knew that it would only be torture if I started something I could not finish and it would only frustrate him more, eventually driving him to the edge and deciding that he had enough of me. That's why I kept my distance from him.

I could see how much he missed me too. When we slept together, he would always unconsciously scoot closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist in a tight, warm embrace. Those were, by far, the best hours of the day for me.

To watch him sleep quickly became my favourite hobby and it was definitely comforting seeing how would always gravitate towards me in his sleep, always finding a way to touch me and pull me to him, only to wake up in a mess of limbs, but always comfortable.

During the few minutes he would wake up in the middle of the night, I'd always pretend to be fast asleep, making him sigh and hug me to his chest. Sometimes, he would even say comforting things, even when he thought I was asleep and couldn't hear him, when in fact I did hear him, I listened to his every word, falling into a peaceful slumber and, only then, being able to finally sleep.