Where Your Heart Is (A Harry Styles Fanfiction) #pfcc2k16 #Wattys2016

Chapter Eleven: ~War of Hearts~

I can't help but want oceans to part...

*****

February 21st, 2015

I wake up with a jolt, opening my eyes to find Jasper's face alarmingly close to mine.

"Wha..." I rub my eyes to get rid of the little sleepiness his proximity didn't shake off of me.

"There's a Harry Styles sleeping in my bed." His brown eyes are shining with the kind of spark you can only find in a kid on a Christmas morning. "And it's so beautiful!"

Everything that happened last night comes to rushing through my mind as I lift myself off of my lying position, resting my back against the worn padded bed frame.

I remember waking up in the middle of the night to a phone ringing loudly, somewhere in the darkness of my bedroom.

At first, I reached for my cellphone wondering why it was ringing with a sound I had never heard before; but when I saw that the screen was dark and there wasn't any sound coming off of it, I quickly remembered about the other one I was given by my boss earlier that day.

I picked it up, confused, and took the call. Then, I heard his voice as he apologized, followed by the silence of a dead line.

I called him back. And next thing I know, I am gettig out of my pajamas and into the first thing that I can find before rushing out the door, careful not to wake Jasper up.

Five minutes later I was opening the door of the coffee shop and I was looking at him sitting alone in the farthest corner of the room.

"I'm sorry." I say, rubbing the my eyes as I rehash the moment when Harry and I were standing in the middle of the empty street, not saying anything at all, and I suddenly heard myself offering him to crash at my flat for the night. "You fell asleep on the couch so I didn't think you would mind."

"Are you insane? Of course I don't mind!" He beams, sitting in front of me with his legs crossed and this naughty expression on his face. "I only have two questions for you, though."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I know that his questions are going to be incredibly inappropriate and out of line, but I also know that there's no stopping him.

"I know I'll regret this, but fire away." I say, opening my eyes to face him.

"Question number one: Why is he not sleeping in this bed?" He asks patting the mattress a few times. The only response he gets from me are my hands shoving him in the shoulders. "And question number two: Can we please, pretty please, keep him?"

I don't respond to neither of those stupid questions; instead, I kick off the covers of my bed and I jump out of it without letting out a single sound other than a low growl of exasperation.

I cover myself with the same sweater I wore last nigth that's resting untidy on the chair, and I walk out of the room, leaving a very unsatisfied Jasper sprawled in my bed.

I am walking down the hall, heading to the kitchen, but I just stop in my tracks right next to Jasper's room and its fully open door.

From where I'm standing, I can see him perfectly; sleeping soundly on the bed, barely covered by the sheets.

At some point in the middle of his slumber, he must have felt hot since the covers are tangled between his legs and the t-shirt I lent him is now lying, all crumpled up, on the floor next to the bed.

His bare torso, randomly decorated with all kinds of tattoos, may not be perfectly chiseled but it is definetely fit. One of his arms, the one that's also practically covered with ink, is resting over his face but I can still see his pink lips parted into a small crack from where he is silently breathing.