Cut Ropes (A One Direction Fanfiction)

22: Control

//I know, I know! It's been way too long since I have updated. But, here it is now! School is a pain in my ass and I never found the time to write, which really is a shame. I get out on June 18, so be ready for more of this fanfic and a whole new one I'm conjuring up. ;) I hope you enjoyyyyyy//

 

 

I was laying on the couch watching some dumb show on the tele to try and clear my head about what the fuck Harry and I just did.

 

 

 

He kissed me. It was the best damn kiss of my whole entire life. Big, bad, Harry Styles kissed me. He's protecting me.

 

 

 

What is he protecting me from?

 

 

 

I don't understand it at all. I just know that he kissed me and I kissed him back and I would re do it over and over and over again.

 

 

 

"Logan," Harry called from a distant room upstairs. I huffed and moved from my curled up position on the couch. Walking up the long staircase and through the dimly lit hall, I called for Harry so I could follow his voice. I walked passed two doors on the left and into where I heard his scruffy voice calling my name.

 

 

 

The room I entered was lowly lit, like the hallway, and was pretty simple. A bed, desk, closet, and dresser. It wasn't like Harry's room at his flat, so I'm guessing he doesn't stay here often.

 

 

 

Harry was sitting on his bed, reading something. His hands were covering the book cover. I muttered a small hello and he patted the bed for me to come sit down next to him. I padded over and sat next to him as he closed his book and set it on the bed side table, along with a pen.

 

 

 

I realized that it was a journal, not a book, he was holding, and he was writing in it.

 

 

 

"What are you writing?" I asked. He shook his head and ignored my question. O.K. He sat up completely, not resting his back on the headboard anymore, and turned to face me as I sat facing him with my legs crossed.

 

 

 

He put some of my hair behind my ear. I couldn't help but stare at his lips and remember how they felt against mine. When I looked up to his eyes, I saw he was staring at my lips too.  

 

 

 

He ran a hand through his hair. "My father and I don't speak," he said.

 

 

 

"I don't want you to feel what it's like to lose your father," he continued, tracing circles on my knee.