Touch ▵ Harry Styles

eleven.

As I mindlessly scrub the dishes, I can't help but occasionally glance at the food still in the warmer. It surely can't be safe to leave that on all night, with the risk of him sleeping till the morning. Right? But I can't know when he's going to awake. 

This thoughts are still being pondered by my mind when I finish, the dishes clean and away the the counters wiped down. Maybe I could wake him up. Just a knock on the door? I'm sure he'd appreciate it, right?

God, I'm annoying. 

Just do it, dummy. 

I fight the urge to slap myself for overthinking so much as I walk up the stairs and towards the room at the end of the hall. I pause for too long outside, pulling at each of my fingers to crack them before clearing my throat and raising my fist to the door, knocking gently in a pattern. 

There's silence at the other end, and my hand hovers in the air as I hesitate to knock again, second guessing my decision. Maybe I should just let him sleep and put the food in the refrigerator. 

Again, my thoughts are stopped, but this time by movement at the door. It swings open and the faint light from the hallway illuminates it slightly. 

Standing in front of me, rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child, is Harry. Shirtless. In sweatpants resting dangerously low on his hips. His skin looks golden tan in this lighting, the tattoos I had noticed on his arms clearly not restrained to those areas, as I look over the ones scattered over his chest. The designs are impressive, and I can't help the curious thoughts that erupt. Does he have a creative side? Or were these picked from a book?

"Yes, Katherine?" His voice is groggy, matching the sleep in his eyes, but the intensity that I suppose he lives with is still there, although partially dormant. 

"Uh, sorry if I woke you. Just wanted to know if you, uh, wanted dinner." I lick my lips quickly, the dryness on them and my throat prohibiting me from speaking for a moment. "Set some aside for you, just wanted to check if I should put it away or not." I finish, looking between his eyes as I attempt to make some semblance of eye contact. 

I've really got to stop being this feeble little girl I've turned into. 

"Yes, thank you." He replies shortly as his hand runs through his hair, and I stare for a moment, not sure what that 'yes' was in reference to. I understand it likely meant he wants dinner when I realize he hasn't closed the door in my face and is waiting for me to turn around, so I do just that. 

My steps are quick and tight as I rush down the hall, feeling like a kid avoiding someone stepping on the back of my flip flop, except I'm not wearing flip flops and that feeling is just called anxiety. 

I bound down the stairs and his steps follow slowly behind me, entering the kitchen after I've already plated his food from the warmer. Much better than a microwave. 

I hand him the plate with a soft smile and he takes it, but instead of moving to the dining table it places it on the counter, grabbing a fork form the drawer before diving into it. He must've been hungry. I lean against a counter across the kitchen, not knowing if I should see myself out of stay, but overtime I move to leave his eyes keep me in my place, looking at me question for a moment before back to his food. 

It's not long before I can't force myself to pretend to look around any longer and I settle into just watching him. I feel like a creep. 

"What are yeh staring at, Katherine?" His voice breaks through, and I watch his mouth move, the words being spit out before he takes another bite. My gaze drifts up to his eyes, to see him watching me with an eyebrow raised and the now-familiar color flushes my cheeks. 

"Just wanted to, uh, thank you for earlier." I admit, biting my bottom lip harshly as I wait for his response. He places his fork down gently as he looks away, his hand rubbing his jaw before he picks up the fork again, stabbing a piece of broccoli before his mouth opens, first to respond. 

"It's a part of the job." His words are mumbled as he shoveled the vegetable in before he even finishes the sentences. I can tell he doesn't want to have this conversation but I can't bite my tongue any longer. 

"You did more than you had to...more than the job requires." The clarity of my words matches his, passing between my nearly closed lips as I watch him chew, his jaw clenching at my words. "I just haven't been helped with that in a while and that was the fastest I've been able to..to find peace, in a situation like that. So thank you. Really." I urge him to just take the compliment, but instead he stands straight suddenly, the fork clinking on the counter. 

"You should go to bed, Katherine." His hands clench around the counter as he faces away from me, but the rapid rising and falling of his back tells me I likely shouldn't push. 

"I'm about to, I'm just gonna finish cleaning u-"

"Go away. Go to bed." He cuts me off, his face now turned to the side so I can see his profile. My mouth snaps shut as I watch the vain in his neck, and the blush that creeps up on my cheeks is from a different kind of embarrassment. 

I say nothing more, now certain that he has no interest in a conversation. I shouldn't make this harder for him. He already has to be around me too much. He probably wants to be alone and away from his job. 

Instead of throwing a fit, I nod silently, pushing myself away from the counter and towards the stairs. I murmur a quiet 'night' as I pass him but I'm not sure if it comes out as anything audible, anything more than a whimper. 

I take deep breaths as I climb the stairs, trying to clear the embarrassment that I'm sure has even my neck and chest flushed red. 

"Kate! Heading to bed?" Niall's voice jolts me as I snap my head up, seeing him coming towards me down the hallway. I attempt to recover quickly, sending him a quick, forced smile as I push my hair back from my face. 

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," I say quietly and he nods in agreement, bouncing down the hall. Seems to have a lot of energy for his half-night shift. 

Settling into bed is hard, attempting to settle my mind enough actually get some sleep. But every minute that passes, I find myself more and more fixated with the man downstairs. 

He had managed to calm me down in a way no one else had before. Not that many people had tried, I'm typically alone when it happens. It was surprising to see how gentle he could be, but his denial of it makes it even more curious. 

Why doesn't he want to admit that he can be nice?

I'm not asking for him to admit he's in love with me or is as caring as Mother Teresa, but he can say he has a soul. He's not a weapon created in a lab. 

But I can't be the reason he starts to hate his job, I can only try to make it easier for him and keep away from him. 

...

A/N

Hope you're all doing well and enjoying the story so far!