MATURE & EXPLICIT CONTENT
"Have you ever held a heart with your bare hand? No gloves, just sensing the blood dripping through your fingers, feeling the dark, dead muscle barely pulsing against your skin?"
"N-no..."
"Then stop telling me how to do my...
A/N: this is the first time IN MY LIFE I write something like this, so please, be kind ❤️
Enjoy!
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Harry's green eyes stared down at me, his jaw working so hard I could hear his teeth grinding painfully against each other.
"What do you mean you don't have your keys?"
I flopped my back against my apartment door, blowing out a puff that raised some strands of my hair falling from my forehead. "It means I. Don't. Have. Them."
He tossed his head backward and brushed a huge hand over his face, his lips moving with no sound coming out. Maybe he was praying for patience or counting to ten, I had no idea. I was too sleepy and still a little drunk to even care.
"Are you sure you searched right?"
I gave him the stink eye, and without breaking eye contact, I pulled my backpack from my shoulder and zipped it open, dropping the contents onto the ground and shaking the backpack to make sure it got as empty as possible.
He looked down at the mess without moving, his hands turning into fists at his sides. His eyes lifted to mine unamused, cocking an eyebrow.
Mirroring his expression, I spread my arms to the ground. "Do you see them around here?"
"Don't you have a spare key with the concierge?"
"Nope."
"Do you have a family or friend who might have a copy?"
"Nope."
Cursing under his breath, he stared down, placing his hands on his hips as he shook his head slowly. Tiredness swept through me as my legs gave out, and I dropped my ass onto the floor, the walls of the hallway slightly spinning.
"S'okay, I don't mind sleeping here. You can go now," I waved him off and closed my eyes. It wasn't a comfortable position, but what else could I do?
I heard him dragging a long breath. "You can't stay outside your apartment."
Keeping my eyes closed, I couldn't stop the curl on my lips as I lifted two peace signs in front of my face, imitating Usher's famous gesture. "Watch me."
"You really are infuriating while drunk," he mused and after a long silence, I heard him folding his knees and start rummaging through my stuff.
I snapped my eyes open, watching him with a narrowed glance but not doing anything about it. "Don't touch my shit."
He was putting all away back into my backpack, muttering under his breath words I couldn't decipher. Once he was done, he straightened up, hanging a strap over his shoulder and reaching out his hand toward me.
I took his palm in, his fingers long and bare as he wiggled them.
"C'mon," he took a step forward. "You're spending the night at my place. Tomorrow you'll figure it out."
