kalopsia [harry styles]

26

FALLON COLLINS

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the cold sheets meeting my body.

The next thing I notice is Harry's arm around my waist.

It curls over my stomach, heavy and limp, burning the bare stomach skin that it's touching.

I look around, still dazed from the sleep as I blink away the grogginess. This wasn't my room, and this certainly wasn't my apartment.

That's when it hits me.

The nightmare. Faith. Harry. Harry and I making out. Me telling Harry he was good making out.

Embarrassment washes over me like a tidal wave, and I find myself cringing deeply as I remember everything. I'd kissed him. I'd broken down crying like a little baby. I'd actually left snot on his bare shoulder.

Oh my god.

I stifle a yawn, squinting at the light coming in from his apartment window. It illuminates the room dimly. I assume it's because it's still early in the morning and the sun is just rising.

It was about five or six in the morning if I was correct, because the city was already buzzing with activity on the streets below us.

Turning to look down to the hand wrapped tightly around my waist, I debate what to do. I didn't want to wake up Harry; I wasn't ready to face or talk about what had happened last night–but I also couldn't stay like this because part of me wanted nothing more than to snuggle closer to him. If I stayed like this I would actually do it.

I couldn't.

Wincing, I reach over to his big hand ever so slightly, grabbing one of his fingers and pulling it up so that it doesn't touch my skin anymore.

I hold my breath, waiting to see if something happens.

When nothing does and his breathing continues to be steady, I lift his hand a little more, just high enough so that I can move away from it and leave the bed.

I exhale in relief when his hand is away from my body. I sit up straight on the bed, turning to face the window, which is at my edge of the bed. My feet touch the cold floor and sending a shiver through my spine.

"Where are you going?" A groggy, hoarse voice interrupts the silence, making me flinch.

I wince to myself, biting my lip. So much for not being caught.

"I– I just wanted to get a cup of tea" I lie, turning red and looking back at Harry.

He lies there, his head resting on a pillow, hair disheveled. I can see his chest tattoos peeking from the silk covers, ever so bold and attractive. He scrunches his eyes, still half asleep. He yawns, letting out a deep groan before opening his eyes and staring at me.

"You're lying" He declares after a few moments, leaning his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes.

"I–" I stammer for words, clearing my throat. "No I'm not"

"If you don't want to talk about last night, we don't have to. It was a couple of kisses. Doesn't matter" He declares after a moment, running a hand through his hair and looking at me in the eyes.

What the hell?

Just a couple of kisses? There's no fucking way he just said that.

"What?" I let out, my tone incredulous. I scowl at him, sighing and adjusting my hair.

"I mean, it's better if we stay as friends, is what I mean. I know you don't want anything and neither do I" He states coldly. It was like the Harry that had comforted me last night was gone. No trace of him at all.