GOD'S KILLER | harry styles

𝟮𝟲 - 𝗡𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗲 | 𝗙𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀

Trust me, I never meant to, but I was just really tired and I got lost in my mind before I could even process what was happening. And I had no clue how Harry and I ended up fucking cuddling in the first place. From what I remember, we were sitting down on opposite ends of the couch.

The other thing that freaked the fuck out of me was how I was clutching the rose pendant to death. The pressure I was using to hold it had left red crevices on my fingers and I wondered where I had gotten all this strength from. Or even better, why the hell I was holding the goddamn necklace.

The couch wasn't small, but it wasn't exactly big either. Harry was squeezed between me and the backrest, though he looked really comfortable. My one arm and leg were hanging outside the couch, and I was lucky I was 5' 1" or else I would've fallen off.

I acknowledged my own anatomy at freaking 3 p.m. when my phone started ringing loud as fuck, and it woke up Harry as well. I was surprised to see Zayn's name on the Caller ID, I was dreading the worst and it hadn't even been five minutes.

I had no idea what had happened. I had quite literally disassociated from both my body and my surroundings, and I was pretty sure that was a disorder or some shit. If you asked me, I couldn't avouch on anything I had done in the last fifteen hours while Harry slept. As far as I knew, I maybe had driven all the way to London and back and I would never find out.

I hadn't slept, I was certain of that. In fact, I doubted I had even blinked much. My eyes were bloodshot and they itched and burned so much that they were already watering. Fuck, I felt so weird, my whole body felt antsy. And I had spent this whole time just... thinking? What the fuck had happened?

It was true that I never slept at all, at least not for the past six years. But I'd usually spend the night working out or in clubs or writing or doing something. I was fully aware of my body, but now it felt like I was just... dead.

And trust me when I tell you I wasn't being dramatic. I couldn't feel a thing, the past fifteen hours were a huge gap in my mind. The last thing I remembered was the stupid-ass movie, um, The Notebook? I don't know, but Harry insisted so much that I ended up giving in to watch a fucking romantic movie.

The only thing I did know was what I was thinking about. Alissa and Alex, Harry, Zayn, the diamond, the next trade, Louis, Harry again. It was like I was lost in my own mind... and I felt safe in there for the first time in a decade.

It was ironic though, because my mind wasn't a reliable place where you could just hang out. It hurt being in there, so fucking much, and I always wished I could leave that place and never come back. But this time... this time I wanted to stay. I never wanted to wake up.

"Hey, did you know this place had a gym?" Harry appeared behind me, snapping me out of my comatose state and making me turn around instinctively.

He looked as hot as ever, wearing just a pair of black basketball shorts with a neon green fringe on each side. The bermudas were a little too tight on his ass, and it was undeniable: he had an amazing ass.

His toned abdomen was on display, and so were the many ink designs percolated on his skin. I doted every single one of his tattoos, and it seemed as though today I was founding plenty of new ones.

I hated how he had chosen to not wear a shirt whenever we were home, it only increased my needs and that was something that we still hadn't discussed. Everything had been too heated and we hadn't got a second of peace to decide what was going to happen with us. I was scared about what he had to say, to be honest.

I knew what I wanted though: distance. And trust me, I was dying for him to fuck me, but things would start getting more complicated if we actually slept together. The phone call with Zayn had made me cross-examine everything. I promised my actual boyfriend that I'd come back for him, and I always tried not to break any promises.