Sorry it's short. love! Hope you like it anyway!
I LOVE YOU, BEAR!
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I sat on my bed, cross-legged, turning my TV up loudly, trying to drown out the yells from my parents coming from downstairs. It wasn't an unusual thing. My parents fought practically every night - some worse than others - over tiny little things. Sometimes it was just yelling, others they threw things. I don't know whether it was at each other, or not, but I don't want to find out. But no matter how loud I make my TV, Barney Stinson couldn't drown out their yells.
To: Harry<3
Msg: Babe my parents are fighting again please come over I need you.
From: Harry<3
Msg: I'm on my way baby lock your bedroom door and open your window ill be there in 20 mins. I love you. xx
I smiled, doing as Harry said and locking my bedroom door, opening the window before sitting back on my bed. Harry's my boyfriend, and has been for nearly 2 years now. He was known as the 'bad boy' because he had lots of tattoos, but in reality, he was a cupcake. He wouldn't hurt a fly, and was the sweetest guy I've ever met. A few - okay, maybe about 35 - don't make someone a bad boy.
Harry kept to his promise and arrived 20 minutes later. Just outside my window was the garage which was easy to get on due to the fence running along the side. He poked one leg through, followed by his other and eventually his body. He was wearing a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans. He rushed to my side, pulling me into his chest.
"You okay, baby?" He asks, his husky voice making me shiver. I nodded.
"Yeah, they stopped a few minutes ago. A coupld of doors slammed, but they've stopped," I tell him, letting him pull me down and he layed on his back. I rested my head on his chest, snuggling into his side. "Thank you for coming."
"Anytime, baby," he whispers, kissing the top of my head. "In the mean time, I can think of something to do," he smirks, rolling us over so he's hovering above me. I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Our tongues brush against each other, our grip tighening. I don't let anything get carried away, not while my parents are in the house.
Our lips seem to fit; seem to mould together perfectly. Even when we hug, I seem to fit perfectly into his body. Our fingers slot perfectly together, and everything just seems so natural. We just fit together like two puzzle pieces. Like we;re made to be.