labyrinth Δ harry styles

Door Forty-Four: Glass

IT'S BEEN A few hours.

Harry isn't the type to nap on a whim, but it seems that that one phone call might have honestly exhausted him. For a while, we just laid together on the bed in a silence that isn't new to us. It's a silence that we've given a home to, one we've nurtured and let grow a space into our relationship. It did take a long time for me to realize that Harry had fallen asleep with me cradled by his side. I should have taken the hint of the deep and elongated breaths, but I was clearly lost in my own thoughts to pay attention.

In the meantime, I've dozed off myself, but I've been awake for a while now. Even though time has gone by, the sun is still high up in the sky with clouds moving and forming nearby.

I've always wondered what the view would look like on a foggy day, especially with this building being built almost as tall as the Prudential. Just a blanket of greyness.

A small, but hoarse groan pulls me from my aimless thoughts, and I look down to see Harry still deep in sleep. His dark tattooed arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me like a stuffed toy, while the other is rested somewhere underneath him. My hand finds its way up from caressing his freckled back up to his disheveled wavy hair. His notoriously etched frown is painted plainly on his forehead, and his lips are just barely parted while his cheek is squished against my side. It seems even in his sleep he's tense, likely from the call he made to his mother. Perhaps there's more—and there usually is.

Carefully, I use my fingers to massage his scalp, pulling away, and then starting again in a different place. The frown on his forehead decreases as I continue, which easily warms my heart. As I look at him, I wonder if he dreams about me like I dream about him. I've never even dreamt about Natasha this much and I live with her! It occurs nearly once every week, and most times it won't be anything too dramatic, in fact he's mostly just appears as a mere presence, a space to occupy in the land of dreams and imagination.

Harry makes another incoherent sound in his sleep. Sometimes I wish I could get inside his head and see what he's thinking about. I always feel like I'm missing something.

I check my phone that's resting under the pillow I was sleeping on and there are two unread text messages from Natasha.

*hey ypu still coming tonight for drinks??*

Followed by:

*you^*

She had sent that over an hour ago, but I still wasn't sure how I was going to respond. Am I selfish for wanting Harry to come with me? Or is that my fear kicking in, worrying that we might get spotted. What if there's a slight chance that we won't get spotted? Harry said himself that he kept his relationship with Beverly for a year under wraps before anyone found out.

My mouth switches from one side to the other. Even if Harry didn't want to accompany me, would I want to leave him?

I ignore the message for now and decide to wait until Harry awakes to make any decision. With my thumb I exit out of the messages app and find my way through my socials. I browse through a few stories, and like a couple posts before I quickly become bored. I press the button on the top to put it on sleep mode, and slip it under the pillow again. I shimmy myself lower so I can lay parallel to Harry and drape his arm around my body instead of my waist.

I thought I could get away with the heavy movement, but I guess it shakes him awake.

"You okay, Indy?" He asks in his raspy voice. His eyes are still closed as he speaks, almost like he wants to keep sleeping.

"Yeah, just wanted to get comfortable," I say truthfully.

"C'mere then," he slurs. His eyes barely open to slits as he moves up higher on to the pillow, so I can parallel him. I gently do so and he immediately wraps his arms around me to slowly rub my back. My head is perfectly cradled under his neck. I can't help myself by leaving soft kisses on his jawline and even on his cheek.