dress, harry lewis/w2s

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I really can't stand hangovers.

The pit that grows in your stomach, the taste of alcohol still in your mouth, the headache and worst of all, the nausea.

I squint at the light coming through my window, mentally cursing myself for not closing them when we came to bed last night. We. God. Are we a 'we'?
My whole body aches as I curl myself into the other side of the bed, expecting a body to be there but being met with......nothing?

It takes me a minute to register that im in my room alone, the other side of the bed is cold and harry lewis is nowhere in sight. Did he leave?

The events of last night come flooding back, and a small smile forms on my lips as I realise what happened.

Our first kiss we've had sober.

I recall sitting on my kitchen island with harry in-between my legs, hands all over me and non stop kissing. Before moving to the couch where he let me lay on him, drawing patterns along my back as he explained that the feelings he has for me scare him.

He has feelings for me.

He didnt rush anything, he didnt want anything other than to have me with him, to apologise and to ramble on about how much he wants this. For the first time with a boy, I havent felt used or wanted for anything other than my company. Is this what its supposed to feel like?

As if ive been reborn again, i scoop myself up out of bed and inspect the room. His hoodie is still here, a good sign. His phone too, which lights up as soon as I look at it, a string of incoming messages filling the screen.

「 ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ 」

airey🫡
you at fayes lad?

airey🫡
dont know why im even asking i know you are

airey🫡
shaggers

airey🫡
shes a good lass harry dont fuck this again

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I grin at his messages, despite cals annoying personality, hes truly became one of my favourite people. Knowing he actually does care about my feelings despite harry being his best friend, means a lot more to me than he probably understands.

Placing the phone back down, I quickly run over to my mirror, instantly regretting it as my stomach begins to queaze. Grabbing a hairbrush some lipbalm and perfume, i try to make myself look more presentable to go downstairs and see harry, something I haven't ever cared about around him. Putting effort into my appearance in the morning for him, hasn't ever crossed my mind and hes stayed over more times than I can count. I begin to overanalyze this, the weird, sinking feeling creeping in, telling me hes gonna judge my messy hair and chapped lips.

He'd never do that faye, come on.
Its harry. Your harry.

Taking one last glance in the mirror, i shoot myself a quick grin and slowly make my way out of the room, as quietly as i can just to guage where the light haired boy is. I can hear shuffling from what i think is the kitchen, he's humming lightly and its when i smell something sweet, i realise what it is hes doing. Making us breakfast.