murder house / h.s

fifteen.

Avery's POV

When I woke up, our position had completely changed. Harrys arms were wrapped around me, clutching me tightly. His light breaths fanned on my back, and I could feel it through the light material of my shirt. My hoodie sat at the end of the bed next to Harry's.

I wanted to move out of Harry's grasp, but at the same time I didn't want to wake him up. There were no windows in the room, so there was no telling what time it was. Harry was wearing the watch at the moment.

I hummed soft tunes to myself, staring at the wall. Time went by very slowly, and every minute went by agonizingly slow. I wanted to let out a low groan and throw a tantrum about how much I didn't want to be here. But I couldn't. I had to be strong for Harry and I's sake.

"Aves?" his voice said in a low groan. I turned to face him to see that he sported a lazy smile on his features. He had just woken up.

"Yeah?" I whispered into the dimly lit room. The only source of light was from a lamp on the nightstand, giving the room a faded ambient. I could hardly see his face. "Are you alright?"

Harry nodded solemnly. I could tell he was tired, exhausted even. I felt the same.

"Hungry." he grumbled before loosening his grip on me. I frowned unconsciously at the loss of contact, loving the warmth I had been receiving. I watched him stand up and stumble over to pick up his sweatshirt.

"What time is it?"

He looked down at his wrist.

"One in the afternoon."

"Oh, lord." I chuckled weakly and tumbled out of bed. I walked over to Harry and grabbed my hoodie before slipping it on. My tummy grumbled at the thought of burning hot croissants and crispy bacon. "Maybe we should check to see if there's any food yet."

"We can only hope." Harry said in a low voice. His voice was deep and gravely from his lack of slumber. We could've used way more sleep, considering the previous night's events.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" I asked as we walked toward the bedroom door. Our plans were to check the kitchen for any signs of remaining food, but still I felt Harry was a little off. His walking was uncoordinated, his speaking a bit slurred. It was impossible that he had a drink overnight because half the place was probably in smoke still.

"I'm fine." he whispered, and shot me a kind smile. The way the corners of his mouth curled up to find a perfect smile made something inside of me ignite. I felt a smile creep its way onto my face in response.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm just feeling under the weather."

My face curled into a frown. I didn't like to see Harry like this. The one I preferred was the perky and cute one, or even the dominant and determined one. But sick Harry, that wasn't something I liked to see.

"How so?" I asked. Harry gave me a sideways glance but yet he still wore a smile on his face.

"Chest hurting. I think it's from the smoke."

I looked at him sadly, and that's when I noticed the amount of residue from the smoke on his face. A light black color coated his face, with his eyelids as an exception.

"Here, let me get that for you." I said soothingly. We came to a halt in the middle of the hallway, not really minding how vulnerable we appeared because we were technically safe. We wouldn't be killed, and the worst that could happen would be a non-fatal fight.

He nodded firmly and clenched his jaw in anticipation, his dimples popping out. It was hard to look away as he stared into my eyes with his pair of green ones.