𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬. [ 𝓈𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈! ]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. [ ✝ ]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃,

𝐒𝐎 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.]

+ FLOWERY !!! writing, kissing lmao what else, mild smut?!

WORD COUNT: 2,075.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it feels like the sky is still awake. a feathery, soft-toned blue colors twilight's skin, several shades quieter than the deadly black ink that darkens the eyelids of a sleeping night sky. the moon doesn't usually glow this dusky, burning medallion yellow, either, like the shell of a golden egg instead of its pale, milky complexion, with craters carved from coconut shavings. and the stars shine much too bright. each one wears a crown of sterling silver, and glitters with the radiance of an undersea pearl.

it's an impersonation of the night, and daylight is a sleepless imposter that only pretends to close its eyes. but i still see the characteristics of warmth and sunlight flicker from the red-hot dimples of the flaming moon and the edges of every constellation.

or maybe i can't sleep. and i'm instead accusing the sky of keeping me awake. when truly, it's the words that haven't left me alone from the second i heard them.

i can still feel harry's breath sweep over the delicate patch of skin where my neck and jaw meet as he whispered in my ear, "leave your bedroom door unlocked tonight."

and that's exactly what i've done. i haven't locked it once today. and i'm starting to realize just how dangerous his superpower is. because he didn't threaten the safety of my beloved organs, nor did he shove the cold-blooded barrel of a gun to my heart's jaw, and his eyes didn't pour venom down my throat as he spoke to me. all he had to do was say those inescapable words, and now i may never lock my bedroom door again. the sovereignty i have over my own body to do as i say is nonexistent when it comes to the hypnosis that thrills his words and the saltwater blood of irresistible sirens that warps his voice as he speaks.

my room suggests that i've fallen asleep—the blankets burying my legs, the silent darkness polluting every wall, aside from a window-shaped puddle of the moon's sunlight dripping down the edge of my bed, the purr of a gentle fan snoring above me. but my eyes still won't close. and now i'm making my ceiling uncomfortable because i can't stop staring at it.

he may have changed his mind. or he forgot. or maybe tonight actually means four hours from now. these same thoughts have been trying to murder me from the moment the evening sky started rubbing its swollen, pink eyes.

then, there's a knock at my door. but only two. my restless mind may have mislead me just then, and i'm tempted to check its integrity, but the screams of my heart frighten me, and i don't have time to do anything except shudder and regret everything i once knew.

the clock on my nightstand tells me it's 12:00. midnight, exactly.

i look across the room again when the door drifts open with a sharp wail, warning me that someone's coming in. that he's coming in.

i sit up, and i don't have time to lean over and turn on my lamp because his footsteps never take a breath, and he's a glowing figure moving toward me, sitting at the edge of my bed—his shadow says to me, "hi."