Damaged » h. styles au

Chapter 69 - Harry

                                                                   69.  

                                                             ●•Harry•●

F–ck! It was freezing, at the very least. I could barely wrap my mind around anything as I rolled over on the bed, groping the mattress to try and find the blanket I was sure I’d left there the night before. Well, that and also the warm body of someone I was sure I had slept with, but seemed to be nowhere near.

I growled.

And she was the one who didn’t want to wake up alone. I might actually kill her.

Suddenly, I felt the bed shifting; dared to snap one eye open and then I saw her sitting cross-legged at the very edge of the mattress, a mug placed between her fingers as she stared at it with a frown placed between her brows, her eyes so focused and amused and something else I quite couldn’t put a finger on.

Without looking at me, she said “Quite a girly mug you’ve got here, curly,” and then I fully opened my eyes, not having to bother about much luminosity because the weather was completely pleasant, and by pleasant I mean without the sunlight creeping through my windows and freaking blinding me early in the morning, so, yeah.

And, well, I had to hold my breath for a moment. Okay. That girly mug. I simply snorted, and Scarlett seemed to take that.

“Anyway. I made you tea as well,” she walked over to me on her knees, still being careful with the mug she was holding, then stretching towards my nightstand. Before I could fully sit, she was handing me a steamy one, smelling like home and I smiled half-heartedly, still sleepy as hell “Did you sleep well?”

“Pretty good, yeah,” I managed to choke out, feeling that scratch on my throat due to the lack of talking for a while and maybe due to forcing it a bit the night before, but. (Scarlett seemed to follow the steam of my thoughts, showing off a half warm and endeared and half smug grin, shaking her head at her own amusement.) “Thought you didn’t want to wake up alone?” I blurted out then, sipping my tea and pulling away as soon as I felt the burning sting of my tongue.

“I didn’t,” she shrugged, settling down next to me, pulling the blanket over our legs.

“So why did I? S’not fair,” I tried to pout a bit, surely looking ridiculous, but not bringing myself to care.

“You didn’t, either. I was right at the end of the bed, Styles.”

Shaking my head stubbornly, I turned to the side, grabby hands reaching towards the hem of her shirt, pulling her the closest I could without spilling tea all over her skin. “You know what I mean.” She laughed not-so-loudly, apparently choosing to comfort me with a slight pet to my head.

“Don’t be such an arse. I made you tea!” she whined, pushing me away from her lap (yeah, basically I was cheesy but whatever), but smiling sweetly nonetheless, her features a bit softer and her fingers still playing with the back of my wrist, though I couldn’t remember when she even started touching me there. It felt more natural than I thought it would.

And then, it was silent. I did manage to sit after all, just drinking the tea silently but also watching her carefully. Somehow, our fingers ended up tangled beneath the blanket, tracing small patterns on one another’s skin, keeping our eyes locked and it was more comfortable than I would care to admit; being with someone like this, so naturally, as if it’d been like this since forever.

Like it should be like this forever.

“Scar?” I prompted, tousling her hair with my fingers, trying and failing at separating it in three strands like she’d told me to. That was not humanly possible. Just- no. “How do I braid it, again?” she loudly sighed, looking up at me and grinning as if the scene was amusing.