Through The Dark || Harry Styles

11. LUCY

LUCY

If you had told me two months ago that I would be spending the night at Harry's parents' house and sleeping in his bed I would have laughed. And yet, this year seems to continue to throw the unexpected at me.

The most shocking part is that I feel really comfortable here. That might be because the curly-haired boy on the air mattress beside me has never looked more at home. His ease is contagious and his mum and dad could not be more welcoming.

I thought there may be some funny looks or distress at me accompanying Harry to dinner; the presence of Jake and the tragedy that surrounds the boy they loved all too real with me around. But they have treated me with so much kindness that it is hard to believe I was worried about their negative opinions.

At first, the thought of having to sleep here worried me. I don't have a toothbrush. What if Lola needed to go outside in the middle of the night? I have nothing to sleep in. What about my coffee in the morning?

But now that I lay here, in Harry's old bed with Lola by my side, I feel oddly calm.

Seeing his childhood bedroom is like peeking into his brain; the sweet, caring, popular boy on full display and mixed with the old soul I knew was buried inside him... behind his hostility for me.

Lola stirs beside me and I run my fingers down her back.

"When did you get Lola?" Harry asks and I can feel his eyes on me. "I never imagined you as a dog person," he adds, sinking his front teeth into his plump lip at his harsh implication.

"Is that because you think I'm a neat freak, or because I'm incapable of giving affection?" I bite, my voice a little icier than before.

"Are you?"

I hope it's the wine that talks back.

"Which one?"

"I already know you're a neat freak," he responds and my stomach plummets.

I hate that he thinks I'm so sterile and heartless, yet my reflex defence does nothing to prove otherwise.

"Obviously not," I think about mentioning my physical public affection with Jake but it would be a lie. "I love Lola more than anything."

"When did you get her?" he asks again, and my fingers tingle when he stretches his arm out to pat Lola's head and climbs back onto the end of my bed when he deems it too far.

I don't say anything and neither does he. He only chews the inside corner of his mouth like he is waiting for me to dismiss him.

But I don't.

"I got her from one of my first clients, her dog had puppies and she couldn't keep them," I shake my head at the memory and Harry crosses his legs underneath him. "It was probably reckless, I had no idea how to look after a dog but I was young and dumb and now there is no way I could live without her."

I snuggle closer to my sleeping friend when I hear Harry take in a cleansing breath.

"Luce, you know there will come a day that you will have to deal with that," he says as gently as he can and I feel his thumb grazing back and forth against my calf. The unexpected goosebumps that raise on my skin make me move away.

"I know that Harry," I whisper, trying not to alert him to the fact that Lola's life is significantly shorter than mine, god forbid, is one of the things that keeps me up at night.

Silence takes over and the sullen thought hangs in the air and his hand finds my leg again and I this time I don't pull away.

"You really like old movies, huh?" I try and distract myself from his touch, pointing to the poster on the wall beside his bed.

"Mhm, that's one of my favourites."

Our eyes meet in silent understanding and words unspoken.

"I've never seen it," I finally admit and Harry kneels up in a rush with his mouth agape.

"You're kidding! You've never seen 'Gone With The Wind'?"

I shake my head, a little embarrassed and my brow creases when he jumps off the bed and out of the room only to return with his arms full.

"I got my mum's laptop and whatever snacks I could find," he explains before tipping his chin up. "Scoot over."

I try not to let the fluttering in my stomach bother me or think about why I move Lola to the end of the bed so he can crawl in beside me.

"You want to watch it now?" I laugh nervously.

"If you want to. I have to warn you though... it's really long."

"Okay."

"And, so is the movie."

He blinks twice before a heartbreaking dimpled smirk crawls up his left cheek.

My jaw drops and he cackles as I shove his shoulder hard and scoff at the inappropriate joke.

When I feel his arm wrap around my waist to get closer I try not to react but my body stiffens instinctively as the laptop rests on top of our legs and my insides tumble.

I don't pull away.

---

Three hours and fifty-eight minutes including an intermission, which I have already baulked at. Who on earth makes a movie that long? But truth be told, I'm really enjoying it.

It's well into the early hours of the morning and fatigue is weighing heavily on my eyelids and we still have over an hour to go.

I blame the small bed and the even smaller screen for the reason Harry and I are intertwined below the covers. Throughout the marathon of film, we have managed to find our comfortable spots close together, somehow I've nuzzled into his chest while he lays on his back, an arm hooked around me and the other bent behind his head.

I hate people touching me, but I don't move either.

His heartbeat thumps below my palm, the rhythm weirdly soothing and I move up and down with every steady breath he takes in and out.

My eyes are on the screen but my other senses are alert, every tiny movement of his fingers or body or breath makes my heart catapult into my ribcage so hard it feels like it is trying to escape.

From the outside, we look relaxed. On the inside, every cell in my body is on fire.

His movements are slight, a brush of his thumb against the small of my back, his exhale of a deep breath that fans across my hair, his stomach muscles that twitch under my arm every time I shuffle.

"Don't drink alone, Scarlett."

My attention is sucked back towards the movie with the force of a steam train and I feel my body immediately tense when Clark Gable delivers the famous line that I often repeat to myself, but have never had any real context for until now.

My own quickening breath echoes in my ears, my heart pulsing hard in my chest and I'm frozen as Harry swallows and clears his throat.

Closing my eyes, I brace myself.

"I made Jake watch this with me once," Harry's voice is rough from being stagnant. "He said he hated it but I sometimes caught him repeating lines from it."

I don't realise I'm holding my breath until my lungs start to burn and even my exhale quivers.

Harry's t-shirt is scrunched up in my fist and I have no idea when I grabbed it but I don't let go. There's nothing I can do other than keep focused on the screen and I feel Harry's arm tighten around me before he leans his cheek against my hair.

"We'll figure it out," he whispers.