Black & White (Colorful Sequel | H.S)|✔️

46

H a r r y

Ellie. Ellie. Ellie.

She's all I can think about. I thought that once I had her, I'd be satisfied, but I'm not. I crave her by my side at all times.

God, she's so beautiful. And I'm so fucking addicted.

When we had sex these past few days, I was terrified she was going to hate me. Our last encounter wasn't the best and I definitely didn't want her to hate my guts after. Lucky for me, she's still putting up with my miserable ass. What more could I ask for?

Just the thought of seeing her makes my dick hard. I groan, knowing she's so close yet she can't solve this for me. I really need to get a grip on myself. But I don't think I can ever get enough of her. Not all those years ago and especially not now.

I'm so damn lucky she's mine.

There's a knock on my door and I groan, not making any move to get up. It's most likely Zayn. I don't understand why he feels the need to crash here sometimes. He has more than enough money to rent out a place. He just keeps switching between all of our houses. And if he's knocking, it means he's too drunk to use his key.

Feeling pity for the drunk bastard, I crawl out of bed and swing open the front door. My mind's racing with profanities to scream at him when suddenly my mind goes blank.

Ellie stands in front of me like a dream.

Is this a dream?

If it is, she doesn't look like how she normally appears - in her sexy lingerie, beckoning me over with her fingers and pouty lips.

No, she looks absolutely wrecked. She's wearing a gigantic grey hoodie that swallows her small frame. Her light blue jeans are soaked up to the knee. Her caramel hair is tied in a messy ponytail and strands are falling out all over the place. One look at her face, I can tell she's trying to keep it together.

But when she sees my face, she crumbles. Her bottom lip quivers as tears pool in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go," her voice cracks. My heart literally pangs. I hate seeing her like this.

I stand there like a complete idiot. Is she actually here? And if this is real, what the hell happened?

Finally, my common sense kicks in, and I pull her into my arms. She quietly sobs against my chest and I stroke her hair in a soothing manner. Without exchanging words, I pull her inside. It's then that I notice that she's brought her suitcase with her as well. Using one hand, I tug it in and close the door behind us.

A million questions are racing through my mind but all I can focus on is making her feel better. I want the hurt to stop.

I lead her to the couch and sit her down. Kneeling in front of her, I put a hand on her knee. "I'm going to make you some hot chocolate, okay?"

She meekly nods as a fresh round of tears form in her eyes. I kiss her forehead, even though it's a pathetic attempt at making her feel better. I just need her to calm down before talking.

Even in the kitchen, I hear her occasional sobs. Each sound rips my heart in two. I hate seeing her like this, and especially not knowing the cause behind her sadness. It doesn't help that she walked in here looking like death. A sexy version of death, but death nonetheless.

When I come back, I take a seat beside her and hand her the mug. She wraps her hands around the warm cup and takes slow sips. I rub her back. She leans into me and closes her eyes.

That's it, baby. Calm down.

Once she's done with the drink, I take it from her hands and place it on the coffee table. She wipes her nose against the sleeve of her oversized hoodie and leans back into me. I continue rubbing her back even though I feel utterly useless.