Misery Loves Company (H.Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

I eventually reach for my pillows and crawl backwards so I can lie down comfortably, and without even looking at me he does the same. First he removes his boots, and then he’s lying by my side on his back, staring at the ceiling. I lie on my side so I can watch him. His long lashes flutter everytime he blinks, his full lips slightly parted, unusually chapped, his chest rising up and down with his calm breathing, his left knee popped up as his foot stays firm against the mattress…

“I’m no good to you, Elena. You have to stop begging me to come back.”

He buries his head deeper in the pillow and sighs, uncurling our fingers. I’m about to reach for his hand again when he pops on his elbows and sits at the edge of the bed, ready to stand up. His firm back is facing me and I just want to rub the shirt-covered skin and whisper that everything is going to be okay.

But nothing is going to be okay. Never will I ever be able to trust him again, him and his stupid broken promises.

When Harry gets up, I hurry to my feet and walk directly in front of him to block the way to the hall. He frowns but I keep my grounds firmly, not allowing any emotion to overpass me. And I hit him.

Hard.

My right palm connects with his left cheek and the sound of our skins colliding echoes in the room. His head swings to the side I lower my arm when I’m satisfied with the hit. My hand stings probably more than my cheek did when he slapped me but I don’t really care. He takes a few seconds to come back to reality and then turns slowly towards me, his expression completely blank and half his face extremely red.

I flinch when he takes a step closer and I realize that I’ve put myself in a very dangerous position right now. His fingers reach for my face but in a much more delicate way than I was expecting, and he rubs the discolored area beside my eye. He bends down to kiss it, his lips lingering longer than they could’ve on the bruise, but I don’t really mind. I enjoy the feeling of his lips on my skin.

However, his lips start traveling downwards to my chin, then to my jaw, and his hand is around my neck as if he would try to choke me, but he’s actually pushing my head back to have more access to my neck. He kisses the sensitive skin, his tongue licking and twirling along my neck and chest, and I moan under his touch.

“Elena,” Harry breathes, running his hands under my pyjama shirt and pushing it above my head.

He grabs my waist and switches sides so he can push gently on the bed. I’m afraid that he will leave me there, but instead he crawls on top of me and keeps on kissing his way down my naked chest. I moan once more when his lips meet my nipple, his hand massaging my other breast for attention, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his to close the distance. Even with that, I feel like there isn’t enough contact.

Harry pulls up for a second to slide his Ramones shirt over his head and then drops back heavily onto my small frame, my breath catching when his entire body presses against mine. He still restrains himself and kisses my forehead, my cheek, my neck. My hands find his locks and I pull his head closer, holding him tight against me. I need the physical contact of his body on mine, so I thrust my hips upwards and meet his halfway while he thrusts into me, his arousal obvious through his pants and my thin shorts.

“I’m so wrong for you, Elena,” he groans, biting my earlobe and breathing heavily. “So fucking wrong.” And he is, he so fucking is.

He places his hand to my back and lifts me effortlessly, bringing me closer to the headboard so my head rests comfortably on a pillow. While our bodies are apart for a short moment, I fumble with his pants and undo the button and the zipper extremely quick, and I push them down. He walks out of them but leaves me for a second to grab something from his pocket.

The foil wrapper scrunches noisily in his hand and when he’s on top of me again, he pulls my shorts and underwear down in one single pull and breaks the foil with his teeth. I sit up on my elbows while he slides the condom on his erected penis and his gaze eventually meets mine, his dark eyes lustfully looking up and down my body. He brings two calloused fingers to my mouth and I lick them, and he thrusts them hard into me.

I moan at the pleasuring pressure of his long fingers inside me but before I can adjust to them pouncing in and out, they’re replaced by his hardness when he thrusts deep into me. The screech that escapes my lips makes Harry’s eyes go backwards and he thrusts again, this time harder, and stays buried inside of me.

“You hate me, Elena. You hate me, you always have and you always will.” I wrap my legs around him and throw my head back in pleasure when he starts moving again. “I kidnapped you, I raped you, and you have to fucking hate me.”

Harry sucks on the gentle skin of my neck and licks the length of my jaw and I whimper at the delicious scruffiness of his tongue. Our bodies slam together and I cry at how good it feels, a feeling I haven’t felt in so long. And as much as I wish it did, it doesn’t feel wrong at all. It feels just right.

“Tell me you hate me, Elena.” He’s breathless and his voice is demanding, but once again I’m left with no words. Instead, I grab his face in between my hands and kiss his sweaty forehead.

I hold my breath when an intense wave of pleasure runs through me and Harry’s pace becomes quicker by the second. I start meeting him through the thrusts, I can see his body is exhausted and yet, none of us could ever dare to stop unsatisfied. He buries his head in the crook of my neck, biting my shoulder affectionately and I dig my nails in his shoulder blades at the pain.

“Please,” he begs, holding his breath like I did before.

He wants me to hate him, and I do. I hate how he feels so fucking good inside of me, I hate how his hair smells so good even with the amount of sweat he’s producing right now, I hate how he growls against my shoulder and I can feel myself nearing my point of no return, and I hate how I don’t really hate him.

Because no matter what, I really can’t hate him right now. Maybe not ever.

When I know I’m about to come, I take a hold of his face again and force him to look at me. He’s forcing his eyes open, probably nearing his peak too, and I allow our lips to brush against one another like our last night together. Our mouths are definitely pressing together, which could count as kissing but our lips aren’t moving. And I clutch my walls tight around him while I moan loudly at the pleasure he gives me.

His orgasm follows right after mine, his lips unable to stay on mine when he throws his head back and barks a moan. I allow my breathing to stabilize as he collapses weightlessly on top of me, our chests pressing against each other’s and our legs fighting for dominance. He kisses gently my ear, my jaw, my cheek, the corner of my lips… so gently that I start crying.

He seems to understand that I’m not crying because of pain, because he licks my tears away and pushes my messy hair back while I sob under him. My arms wrap around his body to feel the contact and I hold him as close to my body as possible, which isn’t close enough. Every inch of my face is covered with a kiss, even my lips, but he’s more gently when he reaches that area. A simple peck is allowed, and I approve of this.

Time passes slowly or maybe too fast, because I don’t know for how long we stay in this position but when Harry breaks the contact, I whine quietly. He gets up and goes to my bathroom for a second but reappears instantly, still completely naked. I stay sprawled on the bed, only to watch him dress up. He sits on the bed to put his shoes back on.

I’m surprised when he kneels on the mattress and takes both of my hands to pull me up. I allow him to do so and he helps me stand up beside the bed, before towering me with his 6’4”. My legs are slightly unstable from the constant slamming they were forced into a few minutes ago but I can balance standing up straight. He picks up my clothes from the floor and I hold his shoulder while he takes one of my feet at a time to put my shorts back on. He slides them up my legs until the elastic band stops right below my belly button, and he leaves a gentle kiss on my stomach before reaching up with my shirt. I raise my arms in the air obediently to allow him to put my arms in the sleeves of my shirt, and he pulls it down to cover the top part of my body. When I’m fully dressed in my pyjamas, his hand reaches to the back of my head to pull on the loose elastic that used to hold my hair, and he tugs on it. My short hair falls over my shoulders, and he brushes it finger combs it backwards to create another small ponytail, this time tighter than the first one.

There’s a comfortable silence between Harry and I that I can’t explain. My words are still frozen inside my head, if I could I’d say them all at once but instead I keep them all to myself, and he just stays quiet while he can.

It’s four in the morning when we enter the kitchen, the oven showing the red digital clock throughout the entire room. I sit sleepily at the island while Harry pulls out a bowl, a whip and a few ingredients to make pancakes. He offers me a small smile every once in a while but I’m too tired to acknowledge him. The stool presses against my middle and I will definitely be sore in the morning.

While he bakes the pancakes, I reach for the pen and one of the napkins that will forever stay on this island bar, and I write a small message for Harry to read when he’s done. He makes five big pancakes and then turns off the stove. He cleans any evidence of his presence and wraps the plate of pancakes in siren wrap for them to stay fresh. After all, if I go to bed at four a.m., the pancakes have to stay fresh until at least two in the afternoon.

‘I’m sorry’. He grins and shakes his head when he reads my message, and he leans on his elbows to write a message on another napkin. The way his arm is bend across the paper hides what he’s writing, so I wait patiently for his message to show up.

‘Don’t. Hate me instead. I am sorry.’ I laugh out loud when I see the ‘Harry x’ trademark signature at the end of his message, and he smiles at my reaction.

I take the pen from him and grab another napkin, and I think for a couple of seconds of the best thing to write. I don’t know what the actual best thing would be, but I write the first thing that comes to my mind that wouldn’t make him angry. “I hate you.”

The words shatter his world, I can see it in his eyes. He looks at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, but he continues our game anyway. I still can’t see what he’s writing on the next napkin and before he shows me, he walks around the island and holds my chin with the hand that isn’t holding the paper. He bends forward and pecks my lips, our newly found mark of affection that is totally breaking his promise but that we don’t count as our lips don’t actually move together and no tongue is involved, and then holds the napkin in front of him.

‘I love you’, it says, without the signature at the end. My heart melts and a tear rolls down my cheek before I can even realize I want to cry. He’s not looking for a response from me, and I know it’s because he’s not ready for one, even if it’s good. Harry is extremely sensitive even if most of the time, it isn’t the façade he shows. When he’s ready for a response, he’ll let me know, so I take another napkin and give him a preview to make him feel better.

‘& I hate you for not really hating you, Elena x’. Another tear rolls down when he takes the napkin from me and piles it with the other one I’ve written on. He folds them and puts them safely in his back pocket. His notes will be added to my collection tomorrow morning, but for now, they deserve their night on the table like the seven others.

When Harry picks me up and takes me upstairs to my room, I understand that it’s that time of the night again. He has to go and I have to sleep. That’s just how we’ve been working for the past seven days, although I was unconscious every other time. He tugs me under the covers, slightly pulling the comforter back so it doesn’t cover my face, and I close my eyes when he leans in to kiss my forehead. I appreciate the gesture even though I wish he would lie next to me until I was asleep.

I open my eyes again, only to find him smoothing out the scotch tape that holds the last note he’s written to me on the headboard. It was probably about to fall from the earlier movement on the bed, and he makes sure it stays where it is. I give him a smile and he walks to the door, closing the lights behind him.

His flawless face is the last thing I remember when I fall into a deep sleep. When I wake up the next afternoon, there is no trace of him in the house, except for the two napkins on table. However, he has scratched the ‘instead’ on the first one and made an ‘x’ on the period that followed the ‘don’t’. He underlined five times the ‘I am sorry’ and circled the ‘I love you’ on the second napkin. Now, it reads ‘Don’t hate me. I am sorry. I love you’.

“I don’t hate you,” I whisper quietly to myself, wishing he was there to hear it.

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Sorry for the late update but here it is Enjoy!

AAAAAAH this chapter makes me sad! I hope it wasn't boring.. If it was, TELL ME and I'll never do it again!!

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So, questions of the Day:

What do you think about the movie?

I personally think it was amazing! Especially if you went to a concert this year it's like Reliving all over again! :D

-katexx