Haste [h.s.]

~08~

* 6 weeks preggo *

My mind kept reeling from the moment I shut the door and left Harry standing by the couch clutching onto what I gave him, and what I said.

If he recognized what I said, he didn't give any indication of it. I expected a text at the very least, but nothing came.

I kept staring for days on end at the scrunched up piece of paper tucked into the corner of my bathroom mirror along with my affirmation notes, thinking if maybe I'd overstepped, or even if I'd done the wrong thing by bringing up his self proclaimed nickname.

I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't.

Every time I'd close my eyes I would get flashes of the night I'd completely erased from my memory under the dusk of my drunk and high brain, ones I now wish I would've prolonged in hopes of them coming back to me sooner.

I tossed and turned every time I got a flash of his eyes under the mediocre street light looking as relaxed as he was in the kitchen. I could still feel the vulnerability of his words, the same one his eyes held in the living room for a hint of a second before I confessed how far along I was.

My lips still held the remnants of his taste between the crevices of their mold, begging to be savored day in and day out. My leg itched by the familiar warmth it discerned when my knee connected with his hip on the countertop, invisibly tugging at the force to feel it once more.

It felt like there was a missing piece to the puzzle, one I had yet to unveil, and it didn't help how I knew he was just feet away from me, yet it felt like a lifetime kept pulling us apart.

The next morning he left without a word or his signature note. The only sign of his absence being the neatly folded sheet on the corner of the couch and pillow sitting on top of it.

At least he left me the cereal box on the same spot.

Ember and Zayn had no idea he had stayed, leaving me to guess he'd gotten a ride from someone or took an Uber home.

After debating it for a while and knowing Zayn wouldn't wake up until later since he loves to stay in bed with Ember as long as he can, I was ready to offer him a ride home, but I would be lying if I said it didn't sting a little when he made it clear he'd rather be out before the sun came out than be a bother.

I felt almost grateful by his leave, not by his silence, but because in some fucked up way I was hoping to get to see if he'd still be the same when his mind was clear, or if we'd be back in square one.

Which one I'd prefer, I'm not sure.

The line had seemed to become blurred out the longer I spent time around him, something that annoyed me to a certain extent.