Heroin {harry styles}

27

I slowly open my eyes to wake up and the first thing I notice is the sharp pain in my back.

The second thing I noticed is that Harry's hand is still entangled in mine.

I carefully unlace my fingers from his and stand up as quietly as possible to not wake him.

He stayed.

This time Harry stayed with me through the night.

Sure, we may have just fallen asleep sitting in the hallway, but Harry doesn't seem like the type of man to get himself in situations he doesn't want to be in.

Turning to look at him, I see how peaceful Harry looks while he's sleeping. The stern look that's always present in his eyes is hidden by long eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks. The sharpness in his jaw is softened. All of his features are softened, and he looks almost childlike.

As I'm about to walk away, I notice something sticking out of his pocket.

The syringe.

I bend down and carefully slide it out of his pocket before bringing it downstairs with me.

After last night, there's no way I'm keeping this. While the slight craving may still exist deep down in my heart, I don't want to be eaten alive by any type of drugs.

I uncap the needle and finally press my finger down to the top of the syringe, releasing the drug and rinsing it down the kitchen sink. Then I quickly re-cap the needle, wrap up it up in some paper towels, and shove it all the way down to the bottom of the garbage can.

Straightening up a few pillows in the living room and giving everything a quick dust, I open Harry's curtains to see the sun rising out the windows.

I finish tidying up the living room as fast as possible, hoping I'll have less chores to do later today if I get this done now.

Heading into the kitchen, I start working on washing the few dishes that are in the sink.

"Layla Marie Summers!" I hear a shout, causing me to drop the plate I'm holding in the sink, before a flustered looking Harry frantically stumbles into the kitchen.

"What?" I ask skeptically. What the hell is his problem?

"Where is it?" He asks, sounding panicked and rushing towards me.

"Where's what?" I ask again, drawing a blank for what he could be talking about.

"The drugs! What else would I be talking about?" He shouts.

"Oh I flushed them," I answer nonchalantly.

"I don't believe you," he squints at me. "Come over here."

I turn around to grab a towel to dry off my hands and sneakily roll my eyes behind Harry's back before walking over to him.

Without saying anything, Harry takes a hold of my face with one of his large, tattooed hands. I'm sure this looks silly because my lips are all squished together like a fish. I look into Harry's bright green eyes, confused as he stares back intently into mine.

I think he's done when he lets go of my face, but I was wrong. He takes my arm next, pushing up my sleeve and scanning it for any signs of injections before repeating the process with the other arm.

"Sit up on the counter so I can check your legs. Just because you don't use your arm doesn't mean I won't find the site," Harry demands.

"You're being ridiculous," I can't help but laugh a little. "Do I seem high out of my mind right now?"