Scrabble | Harry Styles

17

"Yes, Mum - I promise you I'm safe." I paused, letting her speak and mouthing a 'thank you' to Harry as he handed me a mug of tea. I bit my lip, "Yes, of course Harry's here - I'm fine, just shaken up. I'll see you in the morning, alright? I love you too. Goodnight."

I set the phone down with a loud sigh, causing Harry to cock an eyebrow at me. He took a sip from his mug, setting it down on the counter. My eyes shifted from him to the kitchen we stood in - it was beautiful; extravagant, even. I'd never seen anything like it; from the floor to the walls, to the decor upon the windowsills; everything seemed to slot into place and compliment its surroundings perfectly.

"Where's your uncle?" I asked curiously, bringing my mug to my lips.

"Oh, he's working out of town," he replied, not missing a beat. "Back.. Tuesday, I think? I'm not sure," he shrugged. "I don't mind. I like having the place to myself."

"Oh, should I leave?" I teased, causing him to lurch forward and grab me by my waist, causing me to squeal in desperation not to spill the hot drink in my hands onto him. He nudged his nose playfully against my neck, squeezing his arms around me.

"I.." he breathed, trailing off. I caressed my hand over the side of his face, watching his eyes fall from my own eyes to my lips.

"Hm?" I held his chin gently in my hand.

"I'm tired," he told me, raking his fingers through his hair. His lips twitched into a small smile, as he tilted his chin a little in my hand to press a kiss to my palm. "Why don't we go upstairs?"

I nodded, and Harry reached for my bag from its place on the counter, carrying it towards his staircase for me. I silently peered around in awe at the interior surrounding me; vast, and intricate from corner to corner.

I caught sight of his duffle bag slumped beside the stairs; the one I often absent-mindedly saw in the backseat of his car. I followed him upstairs, as he glanced over his shoulder at me for a brief moment, his lips twitching back into a grin as we reached the top of the stairs - this floor equally as extravagant as the lower.

"My uncle's room is over there," he nodded his head to the room directly to the right of me, as he continued down the hallway, "and here's mine." He pushed open the door directly in front of him, flicking a light switch and stepping aside to hold the door open for me.

His room was slightly colder than the rest of the house, and I shivered a little as he shut the door and brushed past me.

"I know. It warms up, though," he told me, taking a seat on the edge of his neatly-made bed.

The pair of us had failed to mention the events of tonight, following the car ride, because, frankly, I wasn't sure either of us had any words for it. It was a continuous dismay, and though I was beyond shocked that this had happened - again - I couldn't bring myself to talk about it for fear of driving myself mad. Instead, selfishly, my mind was on Vic, and the accusation she'd thrown about tonight, leaving my stomach unsettled and in knots.

I sat down on the edge of his bed with a sigh, desperate to free myself of my shoes and sleep off my sudden exhaustion, when I felt Harry's arm curl around my knees, lifting my legs into his lap and bringing his fingers around the buckle of my right shoe before I could even think to do so myself. He slipped the shoe from my foot, setting it down on the floor and then doing the same with the other.

"Are you tired?" he asked me, catching my shift in demeanour. His voice was only a murmur; any louder within our proximity would feel like an intrusion.

"Mm," I hummed in confirmation, letting my eyes close for a moment and my back fall against the mattress. I felt the shift of Harry's hands onto my feet, digging his thumbs gently into the arch of my right to massage it, soothing the ache from the hours of parading about in heels. A quiet groan of relief left my lips, causing a soft chuckle to leave his own, as he worked his hands against the tight muscles and then did the same with the other foot.