Hey man you home rn?
Timothée looks down at his phone as it dings, expecting a message from his coworker asking why he's been out for the past two days, but to his surprise, it's his housemate, Harry.
He picks up his phone and types back:
yea what's up
Harry reads the message immediately. Think you can come to my room?
He sighs, and pushes the blankets off his body. He sets his feet down on the floor and uses every muscle in his body to stand up. He reaches for his sweatshirts and shivers as he tugs it on before walking over to Harry's room.
He knocks on the door and then wraps his arms around himself.
Harry opens the door and peeks his head out. He looks fucked out, shirtless and sweaty as if he's just done a strenuous workout. "Hey man," he says quietly. "Can you get me a glass of water?"
"You called me here for that? You realize it's like midnight, right?"
Harry blinks slowly. "Sorry, were you sleeping?"
Timmy shakes his head. "No, but I've been sick for the past week and I just wanted to stay in bed..."
"I'm sorry 'bout that," Harry says quickly with a frown. "But, I've got a girl over and–"
"Yeah, I can tell," Timmy grits. "I can hear you guys."
"Right. Sorry. I can't leave the room. Help me out?"
He doesn't want to, but he can't say no to the unkempt man in front of him. He unravels his arms from around himself. "Fine," he says nasally, turning away.
Harry calls after him, "Make sure it's not too cold!"
When Timmy returns, the door is closed and he has to knock again. It takes a little while longer to get him to open the door, but Harry mutters a quick thanks and bids him goodnight.
He's back in his room and lays in his bed, wrapped up in his blankets. His eyes close. After hours of unsuccessfully finding sleep, his eyelids grow heavy and he begins to drift off. Faintly, he hears the shower turn on, and the soothing sound of the water lulls him to sleep.
***
It's the next morning. Faye rolls over after a yawn rips through her. The one thing she loves about Harry's place is how sunny it is. The transparent curtains in his bedroom allow the natural sun to stream right onto her face and it's the best way she can think of to be woken up.
Beside her, Harry's still asleep. After a tiring night, he needs his rest, and he always sleeps longer than her so she doesn't ever get offended. She pulls the blanket up to her chin and snuggles closer to his shoulder. He shifts a little bit and turns his head back towards her so it rests on her head.
Faye lays there for a while, stretching and yawning over and over again. With every little movement, she checks if Harry's awake. He isn't even ruffled and she huffs, stubbornly pushing his calf with her foot. After 15 minutes, she pushes her sheets off of her and sits up. Her feet touch the ground as she bends over to pick up her clothing, forgoing a bra and simply placing her shirt back on. Her jeans are next, but she doesn't want to look for her panties, so she walks over to Harry's underwear drawer and picks out a pair of grey briefs.
"Are you stealing from me now, Cherry?" Harry rough voice gruffs.
She jumps at the sound, turning around hastily with his underwear in his hand. He's got an amused expression, an at folded behind his head.
YOU ARE READING
Fine Line (+Extras)
أدب الهواةFaye is a emotionally distraught local actress and Harry is a tattoo artist. Who said friends with benefits wouldn't work out?