You Have Me

Ch.4

It's hot. And there's something heavy on top of me. There's hair tickling my face and I really should stop squinting in the dark, because there's really no point. I'm not sixteen. I'm nineteen and I'm surrounded by a world famous band, who are my friends. Except that right now, in all reality they're more like five strangers. Five strangers that probably know me a lot better than I know myself. I try to move back but I can't because, I'm currently being used as a mattress and oh. It's Harry.

Oh.

I figure, It's time I stop being so useless and fucking confused. So I went to sleep, on top of Harry and now it's the exact opposite. Harry's arms are clutching the middle of my body, with no intention of setting me free. His head is on my chest (and I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with this yet, but I will admit that his body weight is slightly comforting. Slightly.) causing his curls to tickle my chin. Maybe this is...normal? Maybe we go to sleep one way and wake up the exact opposite? Yeah, maybe this is normal. Or not. I don't know. I do know that it's time to try and slip from Harry's suffocating grip. I've almost managed to slide away from Harry's body when he makes a noise and clings to me tighter, so I'm completely trapped underneath him. And.....god it's hot.

Really, really, really hot.

But okay, it's okay, because thankfully everyone seemed to have dispersed to their own rooms. So no ones here to watch me struggle...or help me.

I try and breathe through it. In and out, in and out. It's something I would always do, when I had upset my parents and I had to keep my mouth shut so I wouldn't be beaten further.

I can handle this. I can handle Harry crushing me. It's not a big deal. Friends cuddle. And right now we're cuddling, because we're friends. Right? And Me not remembering my friend, it's temporary. Just temporary.

I move my arms-completely thankful that they had stayed free-over his shoulders. It's weird to think that Harry, womanizer and famous boy bander is currently knocked out over me. I don't know him, I don't know any of them. But I want to. God I want. I want to know Louis and figure out why he's so upset, I want to know why Harry is so comfortable cuddling me and why I'm so comfortable holding his hand and seeking him out for comfort. I want to know why they're so nice to me, why they've kept me with them. I want to know everything. I need to know everything. Why my parents had disowned me, why Lilly didn't even try to stay a part of my life. How I had ended up meeting and befriending five fucking pop stars and why the fuck I had a random tattoo on my wrist with someone's initials. I want to remember what it was like having friends, a best friend. I want to remember who I used to be, before, whatever the fuck happened.

"Harry...can....can, you let go, or like, move?" and when shoving his shoulders don't work, I huff and give up. I lower my limbs on his body and my fingers ghost over his hair. It's a bit long and his curls have lost some of their wave from what I can remember. He used to have a fringe that has seemed to disappear underneath weird looking bandannas and scarves. I'm still not sure what the fabric is. But I like it. God, I like everything about Harry, which is awkward, ridiculous, and a hundred levels of fucked. My fingers pick up a wave and tangle themselves in the hair. He looks so peaceful and calm, and maybe-just maybe, he feels peaceful and calm. My fingers trace his face before I realize how creepy and strange I'm acting and I let my arms drop to my side.

Yeah, I'm fucked. So fucking, fucked.

"Baby, baby, baby." Harry mumbles in song fashion, his voice thick and sleepy. His eyes are still closed. As the last 'baby' rolls free from his mouth I jerk back in surprise, and Harry's arms tighten even more....if that was even possible. His eyes finally open, and I feel fifty times warmer all of a sudden, watching as Harry's lips form into a tired smile.