High Noon [H.S]

when harry met rory

Cheaters.

I've dealt with my fair share of them in the past and although it hurt knowing that I had invested so much time in someone whilst they were practically bedding half of the student population behind my back, I'd gotten over those break-ups fairly quickly. I wasn't one to dwell, especially over guys who had wandering eyes and in turn, wandering dicks.

But, this—this was a whole new level of fucked up.

Standing in the doorway of my boyfriend's flat, I drop my things on the wooden floor, glancing around the eerily quiet room. The lights were all off, save for the illumination of light peeking through the bottom crack of a door down the hallway. My eyes squint in the unusual darkness, searching around for the familiar switch and I nearly head-butt the wall during my endeavours as the room finally springs to life.

I scowl at the ground, searching for the culprit that had almost caused a probable concussion and find a cascade of shoes lying messily around my feet. This place was always a pigsty—that's what happened when you allowed college boys to live together. Clean wasn't a word in their vocabulary; they had no idea what it even meant.

Kicking the shoes out of my way, I grunt, still noticing the empty presence in the flat, but I make my way down the hall to his closed door anyway.

I knew he was here. I had spotted the familiar black truck in the student reserve parking the moment I had driven up to the building, his stupid custom license plate staring back at me. D Rock.

It was short for Derek; a horrible nickname if you were to ask me. One of his teammates had bought it for him as a birthday gift a few months ago and he hadn't taken it off since. He knew how much I despised the piece of metal, but insisted that he only used it in favour of not hurting his friends feelings. I, on the other hand, was not so convinced that this was the only reason. I'm sure he secretly loved the hideous plate, though I wasn't sure why.

The soft lyrics of an unknown song grows louder and louder as I trudge down the corridor towards his room and I eye the bright light peaking through the cracks of the door.

I knew it. He could ignore all of my texts if he wanted, but he wasn't going to get out of talking to me that easily. I knew that in about twenty seconds Derek was about to extremely regret giving me a key to his flat last month because I was about to rip him a new one. I was about to give him a piece of my mind and make him wish he—

The second I shove the door open, I stop dead in my tracks, losing all train of thought as if my brain had just been unplugged and shut down for the night. The image in front of me makes my heart drop to the pit of my stomach and I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry or both.

Despite the sheets covering their bodies, I can faintly see the golden locks of Derek's hair accompanied by the stark platinum blonde bun laying against his pillows. Their bodies shift back and forth against the bed, their moans synchronized to the beat of the music playing softly, the headboard rattling with every movement.