killer instinct - || h.s. ||

17 *

" i bet i love you so much you forget the shit that had you worked up "

---

aurora astor. *

My consciousness slowly drifts to me, my eyes still shut as my senses gradually come back. I feel a weight on my body, like a pressure pressing down on my chest, and a sleepy groan leaves my lips.

My body is truly worn down from the alcohol I needed last night and I remember the thoughts of what happened last night fill my head. Nevertheless, I surely feel the effects of the alcohol running through my veins heavily but it's not at its worse, that's for sure.

That odd weight on my body persists like a substantial pressure on my chest. I huffed under my breath to deflate even more under the constriction.

The warmth encases around my body and I manage to blink my dry eyes open. I immediately see a head of chocolate curls and feel a breath of air puff against my neck. I instantly yelp.

"Harry!" I snap as my body zaps awake, the sobriety washes over me like a wave while I squirm under his bare chest. He groans loudly and deep enough to send tingling chills down my spine. I push his half-naked body off because somehow he managed to roll right onto me.

I groan as he does, both of us being out of it from the consciousness still drifting back.

I roll over only to scream when my body falls right off the bed. I hit the ground hard against the wood and I groaned out at the pain from the thud whilst curling into a ball with my face scrunched up.

I grumble again as his deep laugh resounds from the bed whilst I lay on the floor like this. I rub at my dry, morning eyes and stare up at the ceiling in a complete daze of what just happened.

His head pops out from the edge of the bed to see his messy curls falling over his face and his puffy eyes make him appear not like he usually does.

"Hey." He mumbles as his cherry lips curl up, his deep morning voice sends a shock through my system and centers down at my core.

I react faster from being fully awake and my palm swings up to smack him in the side of the head and he cringes, dramatically groaning out.

I didn't even hit him that hard.

"You bitch–" he groans, rolling back onto the bed. I get myself up to see him rubbing the side of his head.

"You know where the door is," I instruct as I walk over to the bathroom, realizing now that I'm just in underwear and a t-shirt but I really have to pee.

I don't do the whole morning after thing, people don't stay until the morning at least – that's why this is unknown territory to me. It especially freaked me out when I woke up to the fucker trying to suffocate me.

The lurking hangover weighs down on me and the fact that his dumbass fell asleep with me last night is not doing well for my head.

His muffled grumbles with his head buried into one of my pillows encase my room with the light sounds of traffic. I simply shut the door and lock it, turning the light and the fan on because I really don't need him to hear me pee.

I relieve myself after a night of drinking like that and rub at my face. I attempt for the patches of last night missing but they'll come back eventually.

I do in fact remember the sins committed last night. They were exhilarating and made me feel something, the adrenaline and dangerous lines I cross with him make me feel alive.