Ink || h.s [sequel to grapite]

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I looked up into Harry's eyes, almost a little overwhelmed by the situation. There were so many unanswered questions that swarmed around in my head, but I left them shut in there. It was most likely that Harry didn't hold the answers to them either.

"I've been a complete idiot." I groaned, covering my eyes with my hand. Idiot was probably an understatement in describing the way that I'd acted.

I felt my hand being prised away from my face by Harry's long fingers. With his other hand, he tilted my chin up and placed a delicate kiss onto my lips. The feel of his lips against mine felt the way that climbing into bed at night does. You wait all day for it, and there's no greater feeling when it finally comes.

"It doesn't matter," He assured me after he'd pulled away, "it's in the past. You can't change it. I don't blame you for what you did. Looking back now, I completely understand everything."

"That doesn't make it right." I shifted my gaze to my feet, staring at the burgundy canvas of my Converse.

"Nothing in this world's right. Right is just a standard that humans put in place to define correctness."

I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"That was deep," I pointed out, lifting my head up and allowing small laughs to fall from my lips.

Without saying anything else, Harry's hand slipped into my own. Warmth seeped through my skin at the contact. He lead me up the stairs and into his room. All of the drawings still littered his walls and the room was as tidy as ever.

Nothing had changed.

And yet everything that had happened made me unrecognisable.

Unlocking our fingers, Harry settled himself onto his bed. He opened his arms slightly, beckoning for me to go and lie with him. I felt the bed sink beneath me as I crawled over to him and rested myself into the softness of his skin.

"You're really warm." I said quietly, feeling the curls on Harry's head tickle my shoulder as he lay his head into the crook of my neck.

"You mean hot?" He replied cheekily, his chin moving against my skin as he spoke.

"No, I mean warm."

I watched distantly out of the window as Harry drew patterns along my arm with his fingers. Light grey clouds filled the sky and threatened to provide a gentle downpour. Everything else was still. Nothing moved, not even the slightest branch swaying in the breeze. It felt so serene, like it was my one escape from reality.

"What's on your mind?" Harry asked, peering up at me inquisitively.

"Nothing, I just think I was in a world of my own." I looked down at him, as he fidgeted restlessly before finally deciding that I didn't make a great pillow.

"I have a question." He paused, allowing himself to move into his original position.

"Go ahead." I nodded. My arms wound their way around his neck. It felt like an awkward gesture, but once we had both repositioned ourselves it worked.

"Do you still need any help looking for a job?"

"I'm fine thank you, there has to be something out there that I can do," I answered softly, acknowledging that his offer was much appreciated but letting him know that I'd rather search on my own.

"If you can't find anything, I'm always here." He let a small smile tug at his lips.

It made me wonder if I would ever find anything. There seemed to be an abundance of jobs out there, yet positions seemed to be filled whenever I inquired. Or I wasn't 'right' for the job. Or if I did find one that seemed perfect, it was too far away. Nothing seemed to fit.

"I'll let you know."

For the rest of the afternoon, we lay there drifting occasionally in and out of consciousness. By the time that night had fallen, we were only just waking up. Harry's curls were strewn everywhere and I couldn't stop myself from frequently yawning.

"Tired?" Harry rubbed small pieces of sleep from his eye.

"Sleepy is the word I like to use." I joked, prodding him in the ribs. A small growl sounded from my stomach. I hadn't eaten anything since early this morning and now I couldn't ignore it. "And I'm starving."

"Come on then," He hauled himself to his feet, extending his hand out for me.

I'd never been in to his kitchen before. It was sleek, with black cabinets and furnishings. He reached up and pulled out two mugs, setting them in front of the kettle.

"Tea or coffee?"

"Neither." I shook my head, pulling a face in disgust.

"Hot chocolate?" He pulled out a jar, holding it out for my a approval.

"That's more like it." I laughed.

"You really are one of a kind."

(A/n) Most of this is really cliché, and it's so short. Sorry. I really couldn't think of how to extend it.