Creature - |H.S.|

Eleven

Nova

I can't keep my head from spinning; my thoughts are going full circle and they won't slow down. I feel like I'm staring at a piece of me. A piece so vulnerable yet so knowing. I can easily recognize the pain and tenderness in those eyes as they stare down at me and it makes me want to question everything.

I just can't seem to wrap my head around why Harry has so many drawings of my eyes, nonetheless why they're plastered on his wall. It seems quite creepy if you ask me..almost invasive.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Harry slowly start to step towards me, acting as if I'm some wild animal that he'll spook if he approaches me too fast. I can't peel my eyes away from the papers though. There's so many of them, how did he find time do this? Why did he do this?

"I-I can explain.." his deep, yet quiet voice fills the quiet room. I can't even hear the infernal music downstairs at this point. Everything just seems so still and frozen.

"You weren't supposed to-" he starts, but I quickly cut him off.

"Have you been stalking me?" I turn to finally face him, noticing regret fill his eyes. I can't read his expression clearly though. I can't tell if he's sorry or if he's just being impassive and it's driving me crazy.

"Are you serious? No I haven't been fucking stalking you!" his eyebrows furrow in defense as he shakes his head, now displaying that he's angry I even assumed that.

What else am I supposed to think? Here I see about twenty different drawings of my own eyes and yet I've only met him a couple weeks ago. How has he been able to study my eyes this closely if we've only really had four encounters with each other. Half the time we're in this damn club where it's so dark you can barely see.

"Why the hell have you been drawing pictures of my eyes? What have you been getting out of this? Is this some art project or something because I'm genuinely confused as to why you have so many different depictions of my eyeballs!" I feel my chest get heavy as I question him, feeling my body start to shake, not being able to tell if it's out of irritability or confusion.

"Oh god do you have an eye fetish or something?" I groan dipping my head back and shaking my head.

"Would you shut up? I don't have a damn eye fetish. They're just small sketches that I did awhile ago. It's not that deep so chill the fuck out," Harry states cooly, tensing his shoulders.

Awhile ago? But I just met him.

"What do you mean awhile ago? I just met you two weeks ago when my friend got drugged by your bartender and was throwing up all over the sidewalk. You were sitting on the same couch that you were tonight and you were doing a line. You kept staring at me and then eventually came over and presumed I was a stripper or some prostitute," I roll my eyes at the last part before continuing, "Then you introduced yourself.." I trail off, thinking out loud at this point.

Something about the way he introduced himself was strange though.

"I'm Harry, but I'm sure you already knew that."

I would've remembered meeting him before, wouldn't I? Sure his eyes feel familiar, but I've never met another Harry. Well, I did meet an adorable Frenchie named Harry one time, but that's besides the point. I've never met an actual Harry who has long brown hair, who wears dark clothes, and is British.

Harry looks beside himself, running an anxious hand through his curly hair. He looks caught and stressed at the same time, starting to pace back and forth again.

He continues to pace, biting the tip of his thumb now, staring down at the ground as if the floor holds the answers. He finally stops pacing and sighs before lifting his head up, shooting me a distressed look. He strides back over towards me as I stand with my arms crossed, waiting for him to explain.