Dust Bones [Harry Styles]

028

        In this very area, there was a kitchen, the living room, and off to the side was what I supposed was where Harry would work with the computer, of course with my help.

        "There door on the far left is the bathroom, and to the right is the bedroom." Harry explained as he looked down at a touch-screen pad drilled into the wall, putting numbers on it and the door that slid open closed, looking like a regular wall. 

        He turned and that's when I realized he said bedroom. Not bedrooms as in with an S. Meaning only one, not many. I froze and awkwardly stood there with my fingers laced together before me. Harry didn't pay as much attention to me and picked up the luggage, walking to the door on the right.

        I followed him and saw there was just one bed like I expected. The bedroom was spacious, but not nearly as the main room. 

        Harry dropped the luggage on the bed and began to stretch his injured arm out, frowning deeply and hissing lightly. 

        I only scanned the rest of the room before I said, "You shouldn't have carried all of it by yourself."

        "Well, I did, didn't I?" Harry questioned hotly. 

        With a slight frown, I defended myself. "I did offer to help you, but you refused."

        "Thanks for telling me what I know, Dollface. Highly appreciated." He snapped with a shake of his head, still moving his arm around and sitting on the edge of the bed.

        I rolled my eyes while he wasn't looking, but even then he sharply remarked, "Don't roll your eyes at me." 

        "How do you even see everything? You weren't looking at me." I stated. 

        "I just do." He replied dryly.

        +

        6:09AM

       We ended up making food and eating it with a spare of few arguments. It surprised me because we hadn't found the energy to argue with one another just like we always did. But as usual, I spoke too soon. I'm half way through dinner when Harry hisses, "Fuck." 

        I peered up at him and found him lightly pressing the wrapped area of his injured arm. I raised my eyebrows and warned him, "Don't touch it." 

        "Shut up," he spat.

        "Okay, you little baby. Cry about it." I whispered to myself, standing and walking to the sink to rinse my plate. Just as I turned the sink on, Harry had placed his plate into the sink.

        Not without saying something back, however. "Don't call me a baby, or I'll prove to you I'm not even close to one." He said lowly, standing next to me. I could feel his eyes watching me. 

        "What is with you and seeing, hearing everything?" I sighed heavily.

        While the kitchen turned out to be a court house with arguments, we both tried to get to the bedroom before one another. I got there first, only to be told that Harry will not spare his back on a couch because I'm too prude to sleep on the same bed as him. 

        "I don't have a problem sleeping in the same bed as you, so get over it." I told him calmly. We made eye contact while he sat at the edge of the bed, similar to previously when he started moving his arm around in pain. Soon, he was doing the same thing again.

         Harry began hissing again when he moved his arm at an odd angle. I finally had enough of his hissing, and I said, "Let me see the wound, Harry." 

        He shook his head. "It's fine. It's just sore." 

        "Yeah, but I have to clean it again and change the bandage wrap." I informed him, already searching for my luggage to get the bandage I needed. I heard him groan in irritation, only because I'm trying to take care of him, and he likes to refuse almost any kind of hospitality. 

      Eventually, I found the disinfectant in the bathroom. It seems as if my father always stacks up on those things for very detailed reasons. I don't know how he does it, but he's always prepared for plan B. 

        I returned to the bedroom and Harry was lying down on his back, still moving his arm. 

        "Stop moving it and don't touch it." I demanded, kneeling next to him on the bed. I turned my body to his as he lied there. He then sat up, already looking upset for absolutely no reason.

         I started to unwrap the bandage, frowning as I saw how red the area was. No puss was coming out, so I'm aware it isn't infected. It's only sore. 

        "Well it's not infected." I said quietly. "But it looks like it hurts a lot." 

        Harry gazed at me with sarcasm written all over his face. I stopped him before he made some witty remark, glaring directly into his eyes. We stared at each other a couple of more seconds before he cocked his head to the side and clenched his jaw. Immediately, I thought of his kiss. I tortured myself with the thought of his lips and became evidently flustered. 

        I returned to the wound and began to clean it with the disinfecting wipe. I touched a sensitive area and he grimaced. I squeaked out a soft "sorry" and continued to wipe it clean. As I was finishing the disinfecting part, a strand of my hair fell to the front of my face. 

        My body grew hot when Harry used his good arm to extend a hand and stroked the piece of hair behind my ear. I somehow knew he was well aware of what he was doing to me. I could feel my hands start to shake, but I inhaled and ignored the burning sensation of his gaze. 

        "Try not to sleep on that arm," I told him as I started wrapping the bandage around his strong, muscular arm. 

        He didn't make any comments and I was more intimidated by his silence than I would have been if he had spoken. I began to pick up the bandage wrap and the disinfecting alcohol, placing them on a dresser that was probably still empty. 

        I was tired and all I wanted to do was sleep. But besides being tired, I was frustrated. Whether he was aware or not, Harry was strongly playing with my emotions. I'm leaning to the side that he hides his own emotions so well, he's so good at seeing mine. 

        "Catalina," he called.

        I turned around from the dresser and found that he was already walking towards me. His hands found my hips first as he pulled me into him, his head ducking down to allow our mouths to lock in a kiss. My cheeks flushed and my eyes closed. I felt so meek and unassertive. I felt like the emotional seventeen year-old I am and being kissed by a man like Harry made those emotions wild.

        My hands found his chest, my bare feet nearly stepping onto his shoes from our close distance. I moved my lips with his, trying to savor the feeling of his touch. He deepened the kiss as his hands found my lower back. His finger tips pressed against the fabric of my shirt, his kiss gradually becoming hard and dominant. 

        But as we pulled away for breath, we shared only a gentle peck after. I inhaled deeply and let my eyes flutter open. He was already looking down at me, our eye contact causing my heart to leap to my throat as I saw the darkening pale green in his eyes. 

        "Thank you," he murmured in a rasp. 

        "You're welcome," I replied quietly. 

        note// what did you guys think? gradually moving into giving this plot romance like a lot of you guys asked for. just remember there will be a lot of sexy gun shooting from harry and lot's of violence as well. 

        and also, i have this story in my drafts called 1996, and I'm well aware until i finish a majority of my stories, i can't post any more. but if any of ya'll interested on what it's about, i'll be happy to tell you (: