Faking, Falling | Harrison Osterfield x Reader ✔

~• 10 •~

"Why don't you get up and get things yourself. This suitcase is a mess. And anyway don't you have to get up and pee or shit?" You scolded him while searching for a t-shirt in the messed up the pile of everything he decided to fit inside the little box.

"Please."

Shamelessly lazy.

"Also, you don't have any beard." You said swivelling your head to glare at him mischievously.

"I have," He said tilting his head back and tracing a finger through his jawline.

"Nah. I can't see," You said fishing out the first t-shirt that you found.

"Get my razor please, you just can't see them because my stubble is blonde."

You ignored his plead and re-locked the suitcase and walked back to the closet. Before he could say anything, you threw the t-shirt at him. It smacked right across his face. You turned to face the inside of the cupboard and continued to arrange stuff from the point you left.

You still loved teasing Harrison Osterfield.

"Get your lazy ass up. Just minutes before you were yelling about not waking you up earlier. And see now---"

"I asked for my trimmer!"

A small smirk formed on your face hearing him groan behind you, imagining his annoyed face.

"You don't have much stuff to shave, mister." You said mindfully playful, pretending to be mindlessly serious. He shuffled behind your back. Then you heard his footsteps. And then his hands were wrapped around your waist, his head on your shoulder, chest pressed against your back. And then he swiped his jaw across your right cheek. The hot embarrassment that was floating through your veins turned to innocent whines accompanied by occasional fits of laughter.

"Ou. Ou. Ouch." You whined in between fits of laughter as his pointy stubble rubbed against the soft skin of your cheeks. He chuckled as you struggled to get out of his grip.

"Stop," You laughed, "Harrison," You laughed hysterically.

"Why? Isn't my clean-shaven-fresh-buttery skin soft enough?" He teased. You could hear him smile through the words.

"Fuck you," You managed to utter.

"Metamorphically or literally?!" His voice sounded satirical.

Until.

Until his lips pecked the corner of your jaw. You froze in his arms. He quickly unwrapped his arms from your body.

No. You didn't freeze because you felt uncomfortable but because of how badly your heart fluttered. You liked how innocent, friendly and warm his little kiss was. His lips had barely touched your skin. Yet your stomach fluttered like a hundred butterflies were set free in a small chamber.

"I-I should stop procrastinating and head for the shower." He said, maintaining the distance between you both. You looked at him. He had already worn that t-shirt and his hands were tucked in his sweatpants' pockets. And again, his eyes were everywhere except on you. For one moment he's cheerful and full of smiles and laughs. And the other moment he's nervous. Anxious. The Harrison you knew from your workplace was cocky and snobby. You clenched your fists, feeling bold.

"Harrison look at me." You weren't sure if he listened.

You repeated, but this time your fingers grazed his jaw and he turned his head to look at you, "Look at me, Harrison." It was a whisper this time, quieter than the previous call but you were sure that he listened. His eyes met yours.