Artwork [h.s]

thirty-eight

"Is that you Harry?"

I turned my hard fast, seeing just in that moment that there was someone on the couch we'd just passed behind, their back to us. I took a deep breath, realising that it was just Niall. Who else it could've been after all, if not him?

"Yeah" The curly-haired boy in front of me replied, starting to move again after the words left his mouth.

When we reached the first floor we walked to his room, stopping in front of the closed door. Harry took the set of keys that was still in his hand, choosing one particular key and putting it in the lock, turning it swiftly and making the door click.

"You keep your room locked?" I asked confusedly as I took in his actions.

He stopped, his hand flat against the door, turning his head and giving me a glance. "When I'm not at home" he said quietly. "Niall gets quite curious at times."

I furrowed my eyebrows, not understanding why he'd feel the need to lock his room so that nobody could access it while he wasn't at home. "Do you have something to hide?" I asked jokingly, a hint of irony in my voice, trying to hide my actual interest in the situation.

"Just a couple of bodies in my wardrobe" he replied sarcastically, and I put a hand over my mouth to keep a laugh from escaping my throat.

He pushed down the handle, opening the door and entering the room fast, walking to his desk, taking all the paper sheets that were on it and quickly putting them into a drawer.

I gave a fast glance around. Despite the sudden feeling of secrecy his actions had given me, his room was exactly how I remembered it: plain and impersonal, to the point that it almost seemed as too bleak for someone like Harry to live in. Even the blanket over the bed was of a pale grey, a bit darker than the one that had been there the last time I'd entered the room. I wondered what was in that place, that Harry didn't want people to see.

I turned my head, realising that Harry had finished doing whatever he was doing, and was leaning on the desk, his gaze on me as he quietly waited for me to say something.

"It's nice" I offered with a little shrug from where I was standing in front of the door, not knowing how to describe the room in front of me. Nice seemed somewhat right, though. It was impersonal, and it had a somewhat positive meaning. Just like Harry's bedroom.

"Oh yeah?" He replied lowly, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

I hummed, giving a glance around again, trying to cover up the fact that he'd caught me staring around at his room before. "It's plain... not giving out much about you." I slowly stepped towards him, stopping when I was standing a couple of feet in front of him, playing with the hem of my grey sweater. "It's a nice box" I concluded faintly, giving him a shy gaze.

He bit his lower lip, gazing at me attentively. "Is that so?" He murmured, his hand reaching out to grab my wrist to bring me closer. "I wonder what you know about that" he whispered.

I shrugged, knowing that if I'd spoken my voice would've trembled because of our sudden closeness.

"I see" he said lowly, the sound of his voice almost too loud because of how close we were.

I blinked a couple of times as the sudden need to retry what I had attempted earlier that afternoon invaded my mind and took control of my actions, making me take a step closer to him, putting my hand on his chest. He gazed at me for a few seconds as if he was waiting for me to do something, so intensely that I almost had to look down. But the green in his eyes was clear, limpid almost, and I couldn't help but think that if it had to happen, that would've been the right moment. Standing in front of him, his fingers still wrapped around my waist, it just felt right.