Labels || H.S. [#Wattys2020]

FORTY-FIVE

Reagan didn't like what was happening one bit. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Harry wrapped them both in a throw he had pulled from Louis' couch above them. He then proceeded to hug her tightly to him, his tattooed arm visible from her perspective, as it linked around her thick waist. There was nothing not to like really, and maybe that was the problem.

Harry thought Reagan was asleep though, both of them too tired to even get off the floor in the first place. She had been lightly snoring not even two minutes ago, that is until he reached for the throw and a pillow or two. He would've offered her a bed in the guest room, but he was afraid that if he stirred her, she would awaken from her dreamy stupor and this moment would be over. He didn't want that, not by a long shot. He was convinced that the moment she woke up it would all be over. That she would no longer kiss him passionately as she had almost the entirety of that night, that she wouldn't be herself around him, that she would guard herself even more fervently. That the lock around her heart would never be opened, and that this moment was all he had. So who could blame him for not bothering to move him and Reagan off the cushioned floor?

Reagan was far from sleep, her mind racing and her heart roaring as Harry laid next to her becoming the big spoon to the little spoon. All she kept thinking was how she didn't want morning to come because with the sun came the fact that they would have to leave and Reagan would have to revert to her protective and self-conscious self. That they night they had just spent would have meant next to nothing, because Harry was Harry and Reagan was Reagan and they just weren't meant for each other. But the more she thought about this fact, the more she realized she didn't want it to be this way. Sure, he was famous and she wasn't a model, but god, they were so good together. She just couldn't believe that the way they felt when they were together was wrong, that they weren't meant to be together. She loved him, she did. She loved that weird, curly haired, lanky hipster with a heart of gold. And the more she thought about the fact, the less it scared her and the more it overwhelmed her.

She just wished it could be as easy as it was in that instant. She just wanted to be with Harry, plain and simple. But for now, she just wanted to be lulled to sleep in Harry's arm. It would be enough, at least until morning.

—✴—

It was well past noon when Harry wakes up. He looks around, clearly befuddled as to why he's on an unfamiliar floor in clothes that clearly aren't his. His eyes adjust to the extremely bright light coming in through the tall glass windows. He turns on his side to face away from the blinding reflection, only to see Reagan's blonde head. It all comes back to him in that moment.

He wraps his arms around her again, not even caring if he wakes her up or not. He just couldn't believe she had actually stayed, that they had slept together (in the literal sense), and that it actually felt as if they were together. For once they felt like a real couple, and Harry didn't want it to end.

"Mhmmh" Reagan mumbled, clearly still asleep. That is until she realizes she's being hugged and is jolted awake by the very fact.

Harry holds on though, innocently saying, "Good morning, sunshine."

"I told you I wasn't staying the night." She exclaimed groggily, attempting to get up. But she was only thwarted by Harry.

"You're already here though, and you slept so peacefully..."

"What time is it?"

"Half past noon."

"What!?"

"What?" Harry asked, clearly befuddled.

"I told my parents I'd be home this morning. Oh...oh my god where is my phone?" This time Reagan tried to get up and Harry let her. In fact he got up before her to look for her phone.