Restricted (Harry Styles)

Chapter 22

Harry's long, hard, and awkwardly proportioned arms were wrapped around my tense body, which was pressing against his relaxed one. I was laying in the space between his legs, a blanket wrapped around us. My head was resting against his chest and I closed my eyes briefly.

I was so tired, exhausted, and numb inside (physically numb), but I didn't want to sleep. I literally could not feel my body nor think since I was just so tired.

Harry remained silent before resting his chin upon my head. I could feel his stubble rubbing on my scalp, which I inched away from. He chuckled before speaking. "You are such a fucking idiot."

"I know." Was my response. I was a fucking idiot, for even opening the door for this little dick in the first place. I had always had this unnatural feeling whenever I was around him. "Why are you all soft on me, Harry?"

"Because I love you." Harry spoke instantly. My hair was dripping onto Harry's shirt from the shower I just had. I glanced up at him before flitting my eyes back to the bed. Unfortunately, my eyes came into contact with his crotch, which was a bit embarrassing, but he didn't seem to notice. "Also, I can't do shit because my face hurts."

"Didn't I just tell you to go clean your face before it gets an infection?" I inquired, shifting my body so that I was able to look at him more closely. There was a long scar running from the corner of his lip to his left earlobe. Harry looked like a true murderer. "It's going to hurt like heck if you don't."

"I already did, and did you just say 'heck?'" Harry laughed, kissing the top of my head. For some reason, my whole entire fucking being felt like it was on fire. My soul was slowly either burning in hell or getting an awkward admiration toward Harry.

I saw no difference.

"I love you." Harry repeated.

"I know." I spoke. My mind drifted somewhere else.

I hadn't watched Supernatural in such a long time, or any TV show as a matter of fact. My tongue darted out and I licked my lips, feeling the same emotion I feel whenever I'm around a laptop or something that has to do with internet technology. I was excited as fuck. "Harry, can we watch a show?"

"Of course. Can you hand me my laptop, then?" Harry gestured to the laptop resting on the floor. I found that strange - how could you even treat your laptop like that? My laptop mainly rested on my bed on top of a bunch of pillows because I had this abnormal fear that it was going to leave me.

I reached over and grabbed the laptop, Harry holding my waist, before I was pulled back up by him. He seemed like he was in pain, which was a bit hard to watch.

"What do you want to watch?" Harry continued, turning the device on. He went to a browser and the first thing he clicked on was Netflix.

"Supernatural." I answered casually.

"I used to watch that show when I was younger. I was on season five or six before I stopped." Harry frowned, moving his pointer to the search bar. He typed in 'Supernatural.' "It was too hard to keep up with."

"They're filming their tenth season right now." I informed him. He raised his eyebrows.

"Really? Jesus Christ." Harry murmured. "That's a long time."

"Have you met Castiel?" I asked. "Oh my God, I love him. I literally am in love with him."

"He's that one with a lot of hair, right? The one with the hair up to his shoulders. I remember him, it's Sam Winchester. Wait, so that's not Castiel. Is it that guy that has that baseball cap? Um, Bobby? Wait, no, it has to be-"

"No, he's the angel, stupid. How could you forget?" I joked, punching his shoulder. "Where did you leave off?"

Harry aimlessly scrolled through the seasons and episodes. I was feeling antsy because fuck, that show was my savior. "Who's that guy that plays Castiel? Jensen Padalecki or something?"