Theres no importance in this picture that has to do with this chapter
Now that i said that im probably inspired and will write about harrys pubic hair
It was four in the morning when I finally realised that I wasn't home, and that I was in fact in someone else's room. I wriggled around as I tried to free myself from the tangling bed sheets, and I unexpectedly felt my face press into something hard.
"Hey," Harry's deep voice suspiciously whispered as his strong hand palmed my back, in attempt to nudge me away. "You toss and turn way too much."
My head rolled back onto the mattress, where only two pillows supported me. "I need more pillows."
"No, you don't. You have two." He informed bluntly, his eyes on his phone as I noticed he was sat up, the sheets under him as he made no effort to sleep whatsoever. He still had his boots on.
"I see you're not using yours-"
"Fine." He rolled his eyes, lifting himself up slightly to grasp hold of the two he had been wasting by sitting on. He passed them to me effortlessly, but I still appreciated the favour.
"I still need more pillows." I whined, sitting up slowly as I tiredly looked around my surroundings, but finding nothing.
"You have four pillows." He acknowledged.
"I need at least six."
Harry's pout soon turned into a slight smirk as he locked his phone and set it down beside him, his gaze turning to me. "You know- if you sleep with a lot of pillows, it means that you're lonely."
"I'm not lonely."
"The reason we came to this party was because you wanted to get friends."
"True," I morosely widened my eyes in epiphany. "I get that you're lonely too."
"Huh?" He questioned as he shifted his body slowly toward mine, and I laid back into the four pillows I had to deal with. "I'm not lonely, socially."
"You may have friends but you're one of the biggest loners I know- no offence. I don't know how to explain it... But everything you do-- it's just always independently. That's right, you're independent." I nodded along with my own words as I sleepily pressed my temperated face into the soft sheets.
"What makes me independent?" He whispered curiously, and by the looks of things- he took it lightly as his plump lips were begging to smirk.
"You just isolate yourself from everyone and everything. And sometimes you just randomly leave the house and don't come back for another two hours. I don't know... You don't really talk in my house either- you just stay in your room." I truthfully explained as he stayed still, his bottom lip tucked firmly between his teeth. He nodded in response, but furrowing his eyebrows.
"I don't feel lonely."
I widened my eyes in surprise. "You must do. You subconsciously know that you're lonely- do you get me?"
"Uh," I raised my head from the pillows and swiftly sat up to face him. How could I explain Harry Styles? "Well-"
"I don't want to know," He interrupted me with a tired groan, causing me to hurtfully pout. "I mean-- sorry, I hate it when you play therapy on me."
I sat up suddenly, staring at him hurtfully as I crossed my arms. "It's like you don't even want to talk to me."
"Honestly," He mumbled and distracting himself by getting out his phone once more. "I just wish you would go back to sleep."
"Every time I think you're even remotely a dull silhouette or fragment of a potentially decent person- you say something unpleasant." I snapped.
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Call Boy. (Harry Styles Fan Fiction) on holdFanfiction
Harley Thomas; an anxiously wrecked Christian who thrives on judging those who sin. Harry Styles; an emotionally wrecked Atheist who thrives on sinning.