In My Feelings | Harry Styles

Five

October 31, 2020

A soft hum echoed in Harry's throat as his eyes fluttered open. His left arm was half asleep where it was tucked under his pillow and his expensive sheets were warm against his chest. He shivered slightly when he felt the cold air on his bare back, where his comforter didn't reach and felt something heavy on his right arm. He lifted his head from the pillow and looked over, slightly surprised to find you there on your side, hugging his arm, your forehead on his shoulder as you continued to sleep.

As much as he didn't want to wake you, his left arm was going numb and he couldn't comfortably be on his stomach any longer. Harry started to turn his body over very slowly, using his left arm to prop him up as he turned towards you. He carefully wiggled his arm out of your grasp so that he could drape it over your waist as he settled back down. He let out a small breath of relief when you released a contented sigh and snuggled further into him.

His eyes stayed focused on you as you slept, trailing over your lashes, your cute nose, the lips that to him seemed so perfectly formed. He knew he had always been attracted to you—there was never a question of that. The moment he saw you at Sarah's for the first time, the thought that you were just a little bit out of his league managed to zip through his mind, which was an extremely rare occurrence for him. You were always so put together, so well spoken and intelligent, always talked about everything as if it was something you were passionate about even if you only had a passing interest and he couldn't help but admire all of that. But you were always so cold to him—maybe not always but it didn't take very long before you started being cruel to him and he didn't understand the change. He could admit that maybe he should've asked you why you suddenly had a problem with him instead of becoming just as cold to you and deciding that you were the opposite of what you seemed to be—but also, no. You shouldn't have jumped to conclusions the way that you did. You should've tried to get to know him more, get to know the situation more, before making wrong assumptions about him.

The first night he kissed you, he wasn't really sure why he did it. Of course he was attracted to you, but you were rude and bitchy and there wasn't much coming from you that hinted at you being attracted to him in the same way. You obviously hadn't shown it by the way you attacked him that night, but you also didn't compliment him, he didn't catch you staring at him the way he often stared at you—but he still thought there was something there. It was something invisible and maybe it had always been there, but he hadn't felt it until that night. He had this feeling like he had to kiss you. He needed to know if it was really there or if it was whatever he was drinking, if it was something he had made up in his head—and he's still not completely sure if there is something there. Wouldn't the hatred have fallen away by now if there was? Wouldn't things have been different between the two of you after the first time? The rom-coms he obsessed over said yes—if there was something, it would've presented itself by now. The two of you wouldn't still be acting the same way you were.

That being said, all of those movies are fake—and he knew that. They all followed a certain formula. He had never been in this situation before. He had never fucked someone he didn't like more than one. He didn't actively pursue them or get jealous over them the way he did with you. Maybe it was all in his head because absolutely nothing had changed—but maybe this formula was different.

Harry actively tried to ignore the voice in the back of his mind that was screaming at him that something between the two of you had changed. He had been getting more affectionate with you and it seemed as though he couldn't stop it. Note: the arm draped over the dip in your waist.

He tried not to think of the night at his house, how his hands were all over you and how he craved to be near you in a way he never had before. At the coffee shop, he felt a warmth in his chest when you touched him and he couldn't help but hang onto every word you said. He was impressed with you for the first time since he had known you and he didn't want you to leave. When you walked into the studio a few days later. His breath caught and every time he was with you, he wanted you to stay. He wanted you to stay—and he had never felt as insecure as he had the night before. He was embarrassed about the way he had begged you and it all seemed to come out of nowhere. He wasn't sure when his hatred had started turn, but he didn't particularly like it.