Obsession || h.s [completed]

11 | eleven

[*]

When I awake, Harry is sprawled across the entire bed. Asleep. And, I'm practically falling off the edge.

He is on his stomach, hugging his pillow with one arm. The the other is swung loosely across my waist and is most likely the only reason I'm not yet on the floor.

His expression is soft and carefree. Lips parted slightly as he snores almost obnoxiously loud. I could laugh if I wasn't so scared of waking him.

I'm not sure how long I lay there, softly playing with the ends of his hair. Wanting to reach out just a little further and touch him, but I don't.

Eventually, his snoring slowly subsides and he tightens his arm around me without opening his eyes.

"Stop staring at me you little creep." He mumbles.

I laugh. "How did you know I was watching you?"

"I can feel your eyes on me." He smirks, eyes still closed.

His morning voice is heaven.

"Ok, fine I won't watch you then." I keep my eyes on his sleepy face.

For a moment he's silent and I think he may have drifted back to sleep.

"You're still doing it."

I giggle like a thirteen year old girl. "No I'm not."

He smiles and pulls me to his chest before kissing my cheek. "I like waking up next to you."

My grin couldn't possibly get any bigger. If it did, it would probably crack my face.

A thought dawns on me, and I push the hair out of his face as he slowly blinks his eyes open. I keep my eyes on my fingers as I play with his soft locks. "I feel like I know you, and yet I don't. It's the most bizarre feeling, but I want to know more about you."

He's silent for a moment. I meet his sleepy gaze.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything." I breathe. "Anything."

He smirks. "That's vague Ms. Kane."

"I try, Mr. Styles." I smile but then add, "I'm serious. Tell me anything. I just feel like there's still so much to learn about you."

Harry notices my serious tone and partially sits up, his arm bent at the elbow and supporting his head.

I smile up at him, still laying on my back, my hair spread across the pillow. I think for a moment. "What's your favorite color?"

He smirks. "Are we playing twenty questions? Because I don't think you want to waste one on that."

"Just answer the question, you dork. Twenty questions are for losers." I joke.

"Okay. Harsh." He mocks a hurt expression before answering. "Red."

"Like, bright red or..." My smile grows, mostly joking.

He shrugs. "Dark red. Like the color of a brick building."

"Okay, do you have any siblings?" I ask, becoming more serious.

"No." He says flatly. "When do I get to ask you questions?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Well, maybe when I reach twenty questions."

He smiles.

"Do you have a job?"

"Nope. I just magically come up with the money to pay for electricity and cable and a house." He says. Deadpan.