ꜱᴇʀᴇɴɪᴛʏ, ᴡʀᴏᴇᴛᴏꜱʜᴀᴡ

37

I think the average persons response to hearing someone bang on their door at 2am would be to check it's locked and go to bed. However, I, occasionally, make really stupid mistakes, which is why I'm currently clutching a bread knife in my hand as I slowly approach the door. When I first heard the bang I thought nothing of it, but when it continued my gut urged me to investigate. My gut's been bang on the money recently, so I decide I should probably trust the strange feeling.

As I open the door I jump back slightly as an extremely drunk man is lying on the floor of the hall. If I couldn't already tell he was drunk by this then I'd be able to smell it alright. As I slowly approach him I realise who it is, possibly the last but also the very person I want to see right now. Harry Lewis; flat out drunk, lying on the floor and humming a tune to himself. Sometimes I truly wonder if life is even real at this point.

"Harold?" I kneel down beside him, trying to shake him awake. It takes a while but eventually his eyes peer open, widening with fear as he becomes aware of the weapon I'm currently holding. I chuck the knife back into the flat as I try to lift his body weight. Normally I'd ask Emma for help, but it's a bit difficult to do so with her being back in Portsmouth to visit her parents.

"Hmm," He smiles, a cheeky one, "Hello, Y/N," He slumps down onto my sofa, cuddling into a cushion as he gazes up at me with those stupidly beautiful eyes. As I glance down at him my hand involuntarily reaches out to rake through his soft, messy hair. It's wrong, everything about this is wrong. His deep blue eyes study mine, as if his eyes are having a silent and secret conversation with mine. His laboured breathing being the only sound to bounce around the room as his eyes occasionally flutter shut now and again.

A hand of Harry's lifts to explore my body, grazing up my sides and arms before settling on my forearm, his thumb rubbing back and fourth gently. It's strange that something so juvenile can make my heart beat faster and faster until I think it's going to break free from my chest. I don't like that Harry has this control over me that he isn't even aware of. It's a funny thing, control, how a person can affect another without their permission.

"I..." He begins, but a reality check seems to hit him as his mind wanders and he refuses to finish his sentence.

"You what, bog?" I ask, kneeling down by the sofa. On separate occasions this would appear as a rather... sexual position, but neither of us seem to care as Harry leans forward. He's only inches away from my face, his warm breath strangely comforting me as both his hands cuddle my head.

"Us. I never wanted us to end, I still don't," He admits, before swinging his body back with his eyes closed. I smirk briefly as I stand up again before planting a delicate, yet somewhat passionate kiss onto his forehead before I make my way to my bedroom.

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A/N: Hey, Hey. Hope you're enjoying the story! make sure to vote if you can, it helps out a lot and stay hydrated!!