Note To Self (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Eighteen.

After Aubry headed home to start to get ready for church later that morning, Harry climbed into how own bed across the hall to try to get some more sleep before he inevitably had to get up. He didn't fall asleep, really. He lingered between sleep and the state of consciousness for hours, unwanted thoughts clouding his tired mind and keeping him awake.

He felt kind of frustrated, but he wasn't exactly sure why. He couldn't tell if it was the fact that he was tired, or if something else was bothering him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He buried his face into the pillow Aubry had used the night before and breathed in the faint scent it held. Along with it came a typhoon of thoughts about the things that had occurred just hours before and a burst of butterflies in his stomach.

He wasn't really holding onto the embarrassment he felt that morning when he laid in bed by himself, alone with no one around. He didn't think too much about what he considered to be indecency, and instead the thoughts of the way her lips felt as she kissed him filled his mind. His body felt tense the more and more he thought about it, and eventually he had to flip his head to rest on a different pillow in hopes it would ward the thoughts away.

No such luck. The idea of her body still swarmed his conscious mind, how she kissed, how she felt, how she smelled, how she tasted. The memory was sharp, even though his drowsiness. He tried and tried to silence his brain to allow him to fall asleep, but when your mind wants to think about things, there's no stopping it.

Counting sheep didn't help, because the sheep weren't the thing he wanted to think about. He wanted to think about her, and that's exactly what he did. He groaned sleepily into his pillow and sighed. He'd subconsciously pressed his hips into the bed in attempt to relieve the tension that never left his groin, even after she was gone. It didn't work. It only made it painful the harder he got and left him whimpering, desperate for relief, but denying himself of it.

He turned in bed to lay on his side instead, pulling a pillow over his head to block the sunlight out. Minutes passed with him forcing more thoughts away, and he slowly began to slip into slumber a little further, but he was ripped right back out of it when his bedroom door opened.

It startled him awake, causing him to jerk his head up to see his mother standing in the doorway. "You're still not up?"

He sleepily wiped at his eyes, glancing around the room with confusion. "What time is it?"

"8:35," she told him, irritated with the fact that he was still in bed. "I'll be back in five minutes, if you're not dressed by then I'm dressing you myself."

It was a hollow threat, he knew she wouldn't. She closed the door and left, leaving him confused about how on earth he'd manged to sleep in when he wasn't even asleep. He had an alarm set on his phone for eight o'clock every Sunday morning, but it never went off.

He searched the bed for his phone, shaking out the blankets in hopes it would plop out on the mattress. He checked the tables next to his bed, peeked over the side of the mattress to see if it had fallen to the floor, but he didn't find it until he tucked his hands underneath the mound of pillows he had. He'd forgotten it in bed before he got up to head to Gemma's room to sleep, and Aubry must've pushed it underneath the pillows in her slumber.

He clicked the button and the dead battery symbol flashed on the screen, explaining why his alarm never woke him. He dropped the device on the mattress and sat on the edge of his bed, staring drowsily at the wall. His eyelids felt like they had weights on them, pulling them closed.

He was frustrated because he'd just spent over a half hour longer than he should've in bed, wasting time thinking about Aubry that only resulted in the second unwanted erection of the day. He needed a shower and had no time to take one, meaning he was going to have to sit through it and wait for it to go away on it's own. That was irritating.