i sleep naked ➸ larry stylinson

seventy three

harry awoke the next morning with his laptop under his pillow, his blankets tangled by his ankles. he took in a deep breath through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he yawned quietly. it wasn't that cold, which was surprising for january. 

it was six, of course, and he had school one more day until the weekend. he could get through it.

the first thing he did was put on a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and his running tennis shoes. he hadn't gotten around to running, but it was a hobby he was going to pick up if he wanted to stay in shape. he ran his fingers through his curls and brushed his teeth before walking into the kitchen.

his mum was there, sitting at the table, alone. her dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail with her bangs hanging in her face. harry could see the visible bruise on her left cheek, and it hurt his heart.

harry hesitantly walked towards her, taking a deep breath and sitting down across from her. "good morning," he said quietly.

she lifted her head, before smiling softly and pushing a bowl full of cheerios towards him. "i poured you some cheerios." she then motioned her head to the gallon of milk on the table. "there's some milk, sweets."

"like gemma," harry whispered, before smiling at his mum. she had no idea how much he appreciated her doing that, since a few days before she was saying that his habits were annoying. "thank you mum."

"of course, harry." she blew her bangs out of her face, leaning back in her chair. "i usually don't get up this early. i don't see how you do it every morning. i could use a few more hours."

"then why'd you get up?" harry asked curiously. "not that it's bad, i'm just wondering." he poured some milk into his cheerios, careful to get it to the perfect amount. then he took the spoon sitting next to his bowl and pushed the cheerios so they were all covered in milk.

"i wanted to talk to my little boy."

harry blushed. "i'm not little, mum. i'm turning nineteen in a month."

anne looked like she was about to cry. and it turned out she was. her lip quivered for a bit before she buried her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking as a small sob escaped her lips. it took all of harry not to cry with her, because seeing others upset was his weak spot, especially if it was his mother.

"mum, mum what's wrong?" harry asked worriedly, getting up in his seat and going behind her, laying his body across her back and wrapping his arms around her waist in an awkward but comforting hug. "did i say something?"

she took a deep breath and lifted her head, harry went back to where he was sitting. her eyes were watering, and she pushed her bangs out of her face as she tried to compose herself so she didn't look so sad.

"you're almost nineteen and i feel like i've missed it all. i've missed all those years." she looked away. "i didn't even celebrate your eighteenth birthday. how awful of a mother am i? i just miss when you were my little baby boy, when i could just hold you in my arms and rock you back and forth when you were crying."

harry felt a wave of sadness and emptiness wash over him at that sentence. was it bad that he missed it too? he missed having to go to his mum for all of his problems, he missed coming home from school every day with his problems and letting her rock him back and forth in her arms. he missed baking cookies with her and his dad when he was little and eating half of the cookie dough. he missed being that little blonde boy who wore cargo shorts, power ranger shirts, and a stupid newsboy cap. 

anne bit her lip. "is it bad that i miss your father?"

harry shook his head before pausing, and nodding. "a little." he took a bite of his cheerios and shrugged his shoulders.