Only You- A Harry Styles Fanfic

Chapter 36: We'll Forever Be In This Together

"If I let you know I'm here for you, maybe you'll love yourself like I love you."

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Chapter 35

When I woke the next morning, I was hot. The bed sheets were twisted around my sweaty body, and weighing me down against the mattress was a diagonally laying Harry, wrapped tight around me. I groaned and attempted to push him off of me, but he just held on tighter, whimpering lightly. I heaved a sigh and gave up, sinking back against the mattress. My stillness seemed to wake him, and he ever so slowly shifted off of me and sat up.

“Morning,” he mumbled. The sleep he’d gotten last night seemed to make him look even more exhausted. My heart panged for him. I reached up and gently stroked his jaw.

“You look exhausted,” I murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t,” he sighed, going to stand up. I appraised his appearance. Greasy hair, bags under his eyes, no shirt, and stained joggers. He looked scruffy and dirty, and the smell he was putting off was none too pleasant. But I didn’t care. I only felt sympathy for him. My sweet Harry.

“Come on. Oliver can wait. He’s probably asleep.”

“Lexi,” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “This is the first sleep I’ve gotten in a week. And it’s probably the only sleep I’ll have for the next.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already gone, headed for the shower. The bathroom door closed on my words and sadness overcame me. Oh Harry.

I waited in the bathroom for Harry to finish his shower and handed him a warm towel when the water shut off. He surfaced a moment later, avoiding my gaze as he walked out into the bedroom. I sighed and stripped for my own shower. What to do to get him out of this mood?

Maybe he’s just tired, my subconscious reasoned. But no, that wasn’t it. Yes, he was tired, but there was an underlying issue here. He has a baby you fucking idiot. I rolled my eyes. Yes. That was also true. But maybe he just needed a little reassurance.

I stepped out of the shower and went into the bedroom. Harry wasn’t there. Of course. I slipped on a pair of black skinny jeans and a loose blouse with a white sweater. I then went into the bathroom and straightened my hair and did my makeup. I spritzed my favorite perfume on and then slid my feet into a pair of pumps and walked down the stairs. Harry was in the kitchen, rooting through the cabinets. For the first time, I noticed the dishes piled up in the sink. The emptiness of the cupboards.

Oliver’s not even home yet and it’s already a mess, my subconscious sassed. I shook my head to clear it. No.

“Baby,” I said softly, going and placing a hand on Harry’s bicep. He stiffened.

“Why aren’t there any fucking coffee cups,” he snarled through his teeth. I took a step back, intimidated. No sleep did not agree with him at all. Or maybe you don’t.

“Baby,” I said again. He ignored me, grabbing a semi-clean one from the sink and rinsing it, then going to pour a cup from the pot. He poured some milk and sugar into it and then took an angry drink. He studiously avoided my gaze and collapsed into a chair at the counter.