Hiraeth

7.

I wake up with a headache, and feel a familiar scent fill my nostrils. It's soothing and reminds me of home. Yet as I slowly open my eyes, I realise I'm not in my room.

What the hell am I doing in Harry's room?

I sit up in a panic and take in my surroundings and notice Harry on the bed next to me. "You all right?" He asks with concern, and I narrow my eyes at him.

"What's going on? Why am I here? I ask and look down at my attire. I'm wearing a tee, one that's not mine and my bottom half is only wearing a thong.

What the fuck? Has Harry seen my bum?

"You don't remember anything?" Harry asks with a yarn, and I stare at him in confusion, wanting to get out of bed, but also not wanting to get that exposed in front of him. My head is spinning as I try to remember last night's events, but right now my mind is blank as my head is killing me.

"Cheryl suspects you were drugged. She brought you home—" he says, and my eyes widen.

Drugged?

"and before you start wondering, she undressed you and helped you into a tee of mine. I wanted you to get comfortable."

I gulp.

What?

"But why am in here?" I ask, not making much sense of his words.

"She slept in your room. I promised to keep an eye out for you, make sure you were okay," he says," Harry says with a sigh of relief.

I smile at him, "that was sweet of you," I say, slightly self-conscious about the fact that I just woke up and feel like shit and then there is the fact that I'm barely wearing any clothes. I'm sure I look quite bad too. I take a look at Harry though, he looks pretty bad himself. Dark lines has formed underneath his eyes and he looks like he can barely keep his eyes open. "You didn't sleep did you?"

He shakes his head. "Had to make sure you were all right, didn't want you choking in your own vomit."

My heart sinks, and I think I fall a little harder.

How is he always this considerate?

"But how'd you know I was all right?" I ask, feeling the events of last night resurfacing. I remember the two guys, although I don't recall their names, and I remember how I started to feel funny all of a sudden.

"I didn't. Called the hotline, they told me what to do in case your state worsened. Told me to make sure you were sleeping on your side and not your back. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you," he states. The fact that he stayed up half the night to keep an eye out for me warms my heart.

I want to tell him he shouldn't have and that it's too much, but I don't. "Thank you," I say knowing the words don't cut it, but I don't know how else to give him my gratitude. Without thinking I lean closer to him and press my lips against his cheek. "You truly are the best. I don't know what I'd do without you," I confess and our eyes meet. He still looks extremely tired, but I notice how his lips curl upwards into a small smile.

"You should thank Cheryl too. She was the one who called me. Good on her for reacting so fast."

"I might have told her to call you, I didn't know who else to call. I didn't want mum to worry, I'm sure she'd never let me leave the house without a babysitter, and Cheryl would never have been able to take me to bed. I don't know what our parents would have thought if they found me collapsed on the sofa this morning."