Timeless [ A Harry Styles OU ] {1/2}

twelve

a/n: as always, I love to hear from you! 

When Harry wakes up the next morning, he knows Rhea isn't there.

He knows, right away, because he doesn't wake up with her burrowed against his bare chest with her hair tickling under his chin. Her feet aren't entangled with his, and he can't hear her steady breathing.

Nonetheless, he opens his eyes and closes them promptly a second later when he gets a rude glimpse of the harsh morning glow from beyond the curtains. He lets out a groan, burying his face into the sheets. He's pushing the pillow he's cuddling off the bed, flopping over onto his side with a sigh and casting a half open eyed glance at the bathroom. The door is wide open and that's when Harry's heart plummets in the early morning chill.

He sits up in the bed, heart pounding as he glances around. Rhea's clothes are still in the same spot they were yesterday when he threw them over his shoulder, but she's no where to be seen. Harry swallows and props himself up against the pillows, the sheets are pooled in his lap and he runs a nervous hand through his hair, "Rhe?"

The silence of the room mocks him, so loud and profound. Harry's brows furrow together at the sound of his morning voice echoing in the entirety of his suit. He tries to ignore the way his heart is beating, rapidly and loudly enough for it to demand his attention. It's not the same way it beats when Rhea is around him. Or under him. It's rapid, scared, and a little unsteady. He reaches over for his phone, scrolling through the notifications and looking for anything from Rhea.

He blinks idly at the screen when he doesn't see her contact name. A simple press of his thumb unlocks the device and he's staring right at his girl. Last night after Rhea had drifted off to sleep, Harry had stayed up and just admired her. He wouldn't ever admit to it, because he knows it sounds creepy, but there was something so soft, so serene about Rhea when she slept. He'd changed his homescreen to one of the photos of her he took at the shelter. She's giving the puppy a kiss and she looks absolutely stunning.

He locks his phone again, biting on his thumb nail as he tosses it into his lap.

Where the hell is she?

Left to his own devices, Harry can't help but think about everything that happened last night. The way Rhea had trusted him so completely, the way her eyes had poured into his with sincerity and love and everything that he had in his own. He can't fight the smirk lifting up on his lips when he recalls the way her nails had pierced the skin of his back, the sounds of her whimpers and moans revitalized in his ears after all this time. He has to stop himself when he starts to recall how wet and tight and warm she felt around him.

Nothing compares to waking up with Rhea, though. Even in her sleep, she's so soft and although Harry hated leaving her in the mornings — he loved watching her rest. It only makes the sinking, hollow feeling in his chest worse. He wonders if this is how Rhea felt all those mornings when she woke up without him. He hopes to god not.