Silk || hs

Stop Fucking Lying

A/N: Um, why did no one tell me that this was a whole ass song???

Harry and I take a seat in the waiting room, and it becomes very evident to me that these chairs are not made to encourage sleeping. Nonetheless, I'm getting kind of sleepy as Harry has his arm draped across my shoulders and I'm leaning up against him. The steady rise and fall of his chest is somewhat calming to my racing mind, but even the sexy outline of Harry's firm pecks is not enough to distract me from the fact that I need to say something to him about my sudden departure from the party tonight. I'm sure he's pissed about it even if he didn't mention it earlier in the storage closet, and I just want to clear the air because there's still some tension between us that just won't go away.

Okay, here goes nothing.

"Harry?" Harry looks down at me and hums. "Oh, um.. I just wanted to apologize for leaving earlier without telling you. That was dumb of me, and I'm sorry."

Wow, that was so mature of me. I deserve an award or something.

Harry seems surprised by my words, but he smiles softly and shakes his head. "It's okay," he says calmly, his voice pleasant and not in the least irritated. "Though next time I would prefer if I went with you.. I just want you to be safe."

I nod, "I know, and next time I won't do that. I just wasn't thinking properly."

"None of us were," Harry laughs quietly to himself and looks me in the eyes. "That's why my face is so fucked up."

Oh?

I raise my brow at him, and Harry looks straight ahead with an amused smile on his face, though I can't help but notice how he subtly winces as his injured cheek moves. "You know those metal, spiral stairs near the stage?" I nod, and unfortunately, I think I know exactly where this is going. "Well, I ran into them." There it is. "And when I say I ran into them, I mean ran into them," Harry tells me animatedly, using his hands to show me what he means. As he does this, I find myself just staring at his hands instead of really listening to what he's saying, which I know I shouldn't do, but his hands are just so pretty that I can't ever seem to help it. Those rings he wears just get me some type of way, ya feel?

"And then I hit the ground," Harry says, and I can tell he is very amused with himself. He's literally smiling from ear to ear despite the pain it probably causes him, and his eyes are all crinkled the way they normally do when he's laughing. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Harry Styles being a cupcake.

Harry laughs, "I don't know how, but when I fell to the ground after hitting my face on the stairs, I somehow twisted around and scraped the same spot on my face against the floor. Look."

Harry turns his face towards me so that I have a clear view of his nasty scrape. There's a deep cut, obviously from the staircase, then there's a bunch of shallow scrapes around it, I guess from the concrete floor. It's really inflamed and it looks really painful, so I'm honestly surprised the hospital people haven't tried to clean it yet. I guess he tried to clean it himself, because most of the blood around it is gone. I suppose at this point he just needs a bandage or something because it doesn't look like it needs stitches or anything. I just hope it heals quickly so it doesn't hide his dimple so much.

I know that's a selfish thought of me to have, but Harry's dimple is one of my joys in life, so just cut me some slack. Thanks.

"That looks like it hurts," I comment, inspecting Harry's wound.

Harry shrugs, "I'm still kind of drunk, and I can't really feel my face, so it's not too bad."

Of course he's still drunk. I didn't even think of that since he's been acting so normal. But now that I think about it, there's absolutely no way that he could be sober. He had an insane number of drinks earlier, and it hasn't been nearly long enough for the effects to wear off. I mean, I'm still feeling just a little bit of it, and I didn't even have five shots, so he must still be feeling it big time.