I slowly open my eyes to wake up and the first thing I notice is the sharp pain in my back.
The second thing I noticed is that Harry's hand is still entangled in mine.
I carefully unlace my fingers from his and stand up as quietly as possible to not wake him.
He stayed.
This time Harry stayed with me through the night.
Sure, we may have just fallen asleep sitting in the hallway, but Harry doesn't seem like the type of man to get himself in situations he doesn't want to be in.
Turning to look at him, I see how peaceful Harry looks while he's sleeping. The stern look that's always present in his eyes is hidden by long eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks. The sharpness in his jaw is softened. All of his features are softened, and he looks almost childlike.
As I'm about to walk away, I notice something sticking out of his pocket.
The syringe.
I bend down and carefully slide it out of his pocket before bringing it downstairs with me.
After last night, there's no way I'm keeping this. While the slight craving may still exist deep down in my heart, I don't want to be eaten alive by any type of drugs.
I uncap the needle and finally press my finger down to the top of the syringe, releasing the drug and rinsing it down the kitchen sink. Then I quickly re-cap the needle, wrap up it up in some paper towels, and shove it all the way down to the bottom of the garbage can.
Straightening up a few pillows in the living room and giving everything a quick dust, I open Harry's curtains to see the sun rising out the windows.
I finish tidying up the living room as fast as possible, hoping I'll have less chores to do later today if I get this done now.
Heading into the kitchen, I start working on washing the few dishes that are in the sink.
"Layla Marie Summers!" I hear a shout, causing me to drop the plate I'm holding in the sink, before a flustered looking Harry frantically stumbles into the kitchen.
"What?" I ask skeptically. What the hell is his problem?
"Where is it?" He asks, sounding panicked and rushing towards me.
"Where's what?" I ask again, drawing a blank for what he could be talking about.
"The drugs! What else would I be talking about?" He shouts.
"Oh I flushed them," I answer nonchalantly.
"I don't believe you," he squints at me. "Come over here."
I turn around to grab a towel to dry off my hands and sneakily roll my eyes behind Harry's back before walking over to him.
Without saying anything, Harry takes a hold of my face with one of his large, tattooed hands. I'm sure this looks silly because my lips are all squished together like a fish. I look into Harry's bright green eyes, confused as he stares back intently into mine.
I think he's done when he lets go of my face, but I was wrong. He takes my arm next, pushing up my sleeve and scanning it for any signs of injections before repeating the process with the other arm.
"Sit up on the counter so I can check your legs. Just because you don't use your arm doesn't mean I won't find the site," Harry demands.
"You're being ridiculous," I can't help but laugh a little. "Do I seem high out of my mind right now?"
"No," he sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. "You don't. Promise you flushed it?"
I nod, "I wasn't really sure what to do but I rinsed the drugs down the sink and wrapped up the syringe before throwing it away. It's still there if you want to dig through the trash and make sure."
The last part comes out before I think about the consequences of using sarcasm on Harry, but once again he surprises me by simply shaking his head with a small smile.
"I'll take care of the rest of the dishes. Go to bed Layla, you had a long night."
I don't argue with him, simply nodding and leaving the kitchen to go upstairs.
I try not to overthink how nice Harry's been last night and this morning. Well, nice for Harry at least.
Luckily my exhaustion takes over and sleep consumes me as soon as my head hits the pillow.
When I wake up a few hours later, it's late afternoon. I guess Harry was right, I did really need to sleep.
I go downstairs and search everywhere for Harry, but he's nowhere to be found. There's no note with a list of chores like he usually leaves me when he goes out either.
For once, I was actually hoping he'd be around. I need to talk to him about what happened last night. I have no clue what I want to say to him or what I want him to say to me, but I can't just ignore it.
I'm in the middle of struggling to find something for dinner when I finally hear Harry walk through the door.
"Harry!" I call out into wherever he may be, pulling out my recipe book to find something that looks easy. "Can you come in here so we can talk about last night?"
"Sorry, just me. What happened last night though?" I hear the Irish accent before seeing Niall in the doorway.
"Nothing," I say quickly, a bit embarrassed. "What are you here for?"
"Just the usual deals, clients, shipments...work stuff," Niall shrugs. "But I'm sure Harry doesn't like you poking around in all of that."
"Not 'poking around,'" I defend. "Just trying to see if I have to make you dinner too."
"Yeah, no. I've heard stories about your cooking. How about I make us both dinner?" He chuckles.
My jaw drops slightly, "It's not that bad!"
"Didn't you almost burn the house down trying to make toast or something?"
I roll my eyes, feeling sure enough that Niall isn't going to get mad about it. "Fine, it is that bad. Kitchen's yours."
I put away my book and sit on a barstool at the island while Niall gets to work on dinner.
He puts a few pans of ingredients on the stove before turning back to me. "Alright, back to the big question here. What happened last night with you and Harry?"
My face flushes at the mention of last night's events. "I told you, nothing."
"You're a horrible liar!" Niall laughs. "Please don't tell me you fucked him."
"No! God, no!"
"Good, because Harry really isn't the feelings type. More of a hit it and quit it kind of man, if you will. And you definitely seem like the feelings type," he explains. "That never ends well."
"It doesn't matter because I'm not sleeping with him and I definitely won't be, ever," I can feel my cheeks heating up at the thought that Niall thought I was sleeping with Harry.
"Good. So what actually happened?" Niall wiggles his eyebrows at me.
I guess I could use someone to vent to. And Niall's probably the best person, considering he's seen me at a low point before, especially regarding drugs.
"So Harry took me to this club," I begin.
Niall cuts me off. "The Max deal right?"
I nod.
"That man is Destruction's best client. A complete dickhead, but he makes us money. Harry told us he had to take you to this month's deal. Did Max try and pull something with you?"
I stare blankly at Niall, waiting for him to get un-sidetracked.
"Right, sorry," he smiles. "Continue."
"Max was fine. Creepy, but fine. Remember the whole drug thing when Harry kidnapped me?"
Niall nods.
"A girl gave me drugs in the bathroom, I almost took them, turns out they were worse than I thought, and then Harry was actually surprisingly nice to me about it and stayed with me last night."
Niall's eyes widen. "He actually helped you? How?"
"Talked me through it, told me about the drugs, fell asleep sitting in the hallway holding my hand," I say the last part as quickly as possible, but much to my dismay Niall still picks up on it.
"Are we sure this is Harry?" Niall asks. "As in, Harry that kidnapped you?"
"Yes! And this morning he did the dishes and told me to go to bed. I don't know where I stand with him or what to expect now."
"I honestly don't know what to tell you. I've never seen him act anything but cold. Maybe he was having a weird day?" Niall suggests. "I know it's not what you want to hear because you're technically still kidnapped by him, but I doubt you can expect Harry to just change. He's been emotionless his whole life and I doubt he'll change that now."
By the time that little speech is finished, Niall's served whatever he made for dinner and we're sitting together eating now.
"I just hate this," I sit with my head in my hand, lazily eating. "All of this is Harry's fault anyways. I wish he never would've kidnapped me."
"I mean honestly," I continue spilling to Niall, my anger slowly building, while he sits next to me eating more than any human should be able to, but he's still listening intently. "Who kidnaps someone, gets them addicted to drugs, and then acts all nice about it? It's so confusing and annoying!"
As soon as I finish that sentence, there's a small clutter behind Niall and me.
Turning around, I lock eyes with none other than Harry's bright emerald ones. But they look slightly less bright, considering they're glazed over with something I can't quite put my finger on.
Taking a closer look, I see that he's standing in the doorway covered in blood.