labyrinth Δ harry styles

Door Twelve: Awakening

HARRY STYLES NEVER overslept. In fact he was very proud to admit that he was a morning person. He loved waking up in the wee hours of the morning where the sun would just barely break through dawn and the clouds would be painted fluorescent pinks and oranges. His body was naturally set to wake up at the twilight before daylight peaked over the horizon, which was enough time to drink a cup of coffee as he watched the sun rise. It was a beautiful thing, really.

Except for today.

Harry was laid belly down against the plush of his king sized mattress. One hand was draped over the side of the bed, while the other was squished under his own body. During his sleep, through tossing and turning, the blanket had shimmied down just above the band of his black boxers. His curly hair was in a tangled nest on the cream pillow and his pink lips were slightly parted, his saliva nearly peeking out of the corners of his mouth.

With back to back meetings scheduled this entire week, he was exhausted. The kind of exhaustion where you sleep till noon. But, being the complicated and silenced person that Harry was, there was obviously more to that than a couple of meetings. That was what true exhaustion looked like.

But alas, his unbothered sleep could only be left unbothered for so long. His best friend, January, had left in the morning, thinking that he was already up and running for the day, but when she returned home to see his shoes and keys in the same position as they were the night before, she had to investigate.

January loudly placed her things on the bar area, then click-clacked her heels all the way up the glass stairs to his master bedroom. The door was closed. She opened it and poked her head inside, come to find out he was still asleep.

Harry didn't even flinch when she caused light to enter the room with a single click of a button. The off-white blinds slowly reeled up into a locked position at the top of the floor to ceiling windows.

She stared at him, mouth slanted. January moved toward him, and as soon as she nudged his shoulder, his eyes shot open.

"Jan-Jan," he groaned as he rolled over, his hair flopping over his eyes. "What could possibly so important that you had to wake me up?"

"Harry, you never sleep past four am. I would say that's more concerning than important."

"Well I'm tired, so can you please go?" He shut his eyes again and hoped to fall back into the dreamless state he was in before he was abruptly awakened.

"Alright. Talk," she demanded.

"January can you please just go?" Harry slammed a pillow over his face.

But just like Harry, January was not going to take no for an answer. She plopped herself at the end of the large bed and began taking off her black heels strapped around her ankles.

"You didn't talk to me all day yesterday, and what? You're not going to talk to me today either?" Her tone was laced with frustration. She knew Harry was not good with words, but they have been best friends for nearly seven years, so his excuse for lack of communication was complete horse shit to her.

"Not what I said," he mumbled. Annoyed that he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, he brushed the blanket off his body and paced to the bathroom parallel to his bed.

"So then what are you trying to say?" She pushed, standing on her bare feet now. "Was it about that other night with that girl?"

"For Christ's sake," Harry groaned as he pressed both palms into his eye sockets. "Fine. Yes, yes it was." He turned to face her.

"What did I do?!" Her voice raised.

"You were asking her all those damned questions, could you not see she was getting uncomfortable?!"