Into The Fire [H.S.]

4

Waking up next to someone else was something I hadn't done in years.

Waking up next to him wasn't something I ever thought would happen. When he'd asked me last night why I hated him I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to say.  Was I supposed to be honest? Was I supposed to tell him everything I'd heard about him? Was I supposed to tell him that Miguel, Jae, and Javi had told me to stay the fuck away from him?

Was I supposed to tell him that Bae had filled me in on everything that she heard when she pulled dancing shifts at the club? The security didn't fuck with him.  What he said goes. Was I supposed to tell him that Bae told me all about the night they had to wheel two guys out on stretchers when they had gotten handsy with her? Security was busy breaking up a fight and he had come out of no where. Beating one of them so badly he'd fractured both of the man's eye sockets and it took Jae, Miguel, and Javi to pull him off.

He was cold. Mysterious. Aloof. The air around him seemed to be charged with electricity, and not the kind that made things light up. The kind that would fry your ass into a crisp if you held on for too long.

I don't think I'd ever seen him smile. I was 17 when he started working with Javi and Niall. I'm 22 now, and I'd never seen the man smile. I'd seen him smirk. In a sinister way, and in a seductive away. But I'd never fucking seen him smile.

He was quiet. Often eerily so. The kind of person that could be stood in a room and no one would know they were there. Only you knew, because his presence was undeniable.

He was arrogant, over confident, and egotistical. He was good looking. Not in the normal way. He was the type of good looking that made you stare at him. His features were perfectly symmetrical. His eyes were a vibrant silver green, they reminded me of what a leaf would look like if you were looking at it through a raindrop. They often changed colors depending on his mood. But they were always a color of green that made you want to gaze into them until you lost yourself.

His jawline... It looked like the kind of jawline that mathematicians studied for an example of a perfect 90 degree angle. His lips... I was fucking jealous of his lips. How a man had lips that were perfectly plump, and always cherry pink... He even had that pronounced cupidsbow. As he slept I stared at them, wondering what it would feel like to run my tongue across their surface.

His cheekbones were prominent, his eyes lashes long and full, creating half moons on his cheeks. Even his forehead was fucking beautiful. I knew he had dimples in his cheeks, I only saw them when he smirked, or said words a certain way. But I knew he had them.

His hair was long...it fell to the tops of his shoulders in chocolate curls. Most men couldn't pull off long hair without a full grown beard in my opinion. But he...he was just something else to look at.

If Helen of Troy were alive today her name would be Harry. He was so beautiful I had no doubt in my mind he could sink ships.

Being around him, made me insecure about my own appearance. He was just breathtaking.

He slept on his stomach, which was something I hadn't expected. His arms were underneath the pillow, his face turned towards me, his lips slightly parted as small snores bubble out of them. He looks peaceful, and perfect, and so breathtakingly beautiful in that moment that I want to kiss him.

Warning signs start blaring in my brain. Flashing neon red, and waving flags. ABORT MISSION.

I slither out from underneath the covers and slink into my bathroom. Piling my hair into a bun on top of my head I splash water on my face and brush my teeth.

Mu follows me out to the livingroom, he's waiting so patiently for me to take him on his walk.

I have my hand on the door ready to go outside when a raspy voice stops me. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"