Carry On {A Harry Styles Love Story}

5.0 ; Pound of Flesh.

5.0 ; pound of flesh.

  ❝ and every demon wants his pound of flesh,

but i like to keep some things to myself.

i like to keep my issues drawn.

it’s always darkest before the dawn. ❞

★ j e r s e y ☆

A flash of metal. Cold and sharp. It was too bright, too unforgiving. Silver and strange.

Then it got dark. Darker and redder. Blood. And suddenly, it was much more blinding than the crisp, gray metal ever was.

Right before the moment she would turn her head, the moment I would be met with sad brown eyes, so much like my own, I felt a touch, soft and light as a feather, and the nightmare immediately dissolved behind my eyelids, leaving me under a veil of darkness. The delicate contact danced across my skin, sliding along my cold cheekbones and over the narrow bridge of my nose. The foreign digits drifted up to my brow, smoothing over the creases that I didn’t even know were there. With a sleepy kind of resignation, I realized that the pads of their fingers were damp with my own fresh tears. I could almost still feel the warm drops burning tracks down my cheeks.

Before I knew it, a raspy, hushed voice had joined the roaming hand that still attempted to soothe me. A voice that I almost painfully recognized, even in my post-nightmare haze, as belonging to none other than Harry Styles. And what’s more—he was singing. To me.

I didn’t recognize the song, but I guessed it was one by his band. That would make sense then since I never really listened to their music in the first place. It wasn’t that I disliked them or anything. It just wasn’t my type of music. Not usually, anyway.

Strangely enough, though, I found myself being calmed by the sound of Harry’s husky voice, humming low and soft by my ear. I may not have been a fan of theirs, but there was no denying that those boys had great voices, Harry included. As he comforted me with the unfamiliar lyrics, his fingers continued to caress my skin, his warm palm resting against the side of my face while his thumb stroked my cheek in a painstakingly tender way. His breath smelled like spearmint gum and kettle corn, billowing across my face in warm, sweet puffs of air. Despite myself, I felt the corners of my traitorous mouth turning up as I tried to pay more attention to the lyrics and less to the way his fingers left a pleasant trail of warmth across my skin in their wake.

Oh, oh, ohh, oh

So put your hands up

Oh, oh, ohh, oh

’Cause it’s a stand up

I won’t be leaving ’til I finish stealing every piece of your heart

’Cause you stole my heart

Call me a thief

But you should know your part

To my surprise, Harry paused in his singing to tug me even closer to him than I already was, leaving me with the nagging knowledge of how perfectly our bodies molded together. God, he was so damn warm. He tangled his legs with mine to eliminate whatever distance remained between us, forcing my curves to press against the front of his strong frame. I was somewhat grateful, though, for the fact that this position left my head by his neck so he wouldn’t see my face turn bright red from our suddenly close proximity. I considered pretending to wake up now and retreating to the bedroom where I could safely sleep alone, but before I could even contemplate the cowardice of my plan, he stopped me again with his soft voice as he quietly sang the last two lines.