Madness ➮ Harry Styles AU

B3

Ashley

The boiling water lashed out upon my sensitive skin, causing me to suddenly yelp in pain and surprise. Quickly, I turned the chrome sink handle to the right, then stuck my hand back under the faucet to determine the change in temperature.

Now satisfied with the new, slightly cooler water, I grabbed the blue sponge resting on the dark, granite counter top. I rubbed the smoother, more porous part against the porcelain plate where a plethora of bubbles erupted simultaneously from the sponge; cleansing the dish.

Once finished with that plate, I placed it into the drying rack, then continued to do the same with the next porcelain figure. However, just as I was rinsing my third cup, I heard the front door abruptly open and shut.

I flinched.

In no way was the door slammed, or passed through that would give any hints that the person entering that room was to be angry.

I was just scared; completely, entirely, and absolutely terrified.

I froze right there on the spot, not even pausing to shut the water off. The clicking of his dress shoes was evident as the rhythm grew louder, closer to me. That is until, the sound stopped, just as quickly as it begun, signifying that he was standing right behind me.

"Hey babe," He whispered soothingly into my ear while placing his large palms onto my shoulder blades.

"Hey."

"You okay?" Chris began to gently massage my own tight, back muscles, "You seem tense.."

"I'm fine." I replied, my voice smaller than the tiniest speck of dust lying somewhere unknown.

"You sure?" He asked, expressing his genuine concern.

"Yeah,"

"Ashley... please don't lie, not to me..."

"I'm not, I'm just.... busy..." I trailed off, silently cursing at myself for being such a horrid liar.

It was then that I continued to wash the dishes, just as I did before he came. I waited for him to leave.. However, to my surprise he stayed put; anchoring himself to the ebony hardwood.

Christopher gently grabbed my shoulder and turned me around so that I was facing him. Leaving me to be comfortably squished between the sink and Chris' muscular body.

One hand of his was guided to the area just millimeters above my hip bone, the other, wandered far away, to the shiny handle of the sink. Chris grabbed it, and pulled it down as I watched the water it emitted vanish. The hand then returned to my hips and he looked directly at me, his gaze so concentrated, I seemed to become vaguely interested in staring at the intricate grains in the wood flooring.

"Hey," He lifted my chin up with his middle finger paired with his index. "Hey, look at me." His hands moved down to my arms, smoothing the Goosebumps that rose not from desperation, but fear.

"I'm sorry." His tone was sympathetic, portraying that he actually was, in fact, sorry. "I'm so sorry babe," a soft, loving kiss was pressed onto my forehead. Then, a trail of wetter, slightly more playful kisses were peppered in various, seemingly random spots across my face.

"So, so, so, so, so, sorry..." Chris mumbled onto my skin, his voice muffled, and with every "so" was another small kiss planted upon me.