Perilous (Harry Styles)

chapter 20

"The difference between sex and love is that sex relieves tension and love causes it."

― Woody Allen

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Tossing and turning was the only thing I did in my bed that night, not able to find a comfortable position and feeling too cold even though my heavy blanket was wrapped around me.

Our fight kept replaying in my head like a broken record, every word echoing through my mind with more force and meaning than before.

I hadn't even given him the chance to explain himself, but had assumed the worst instead.

No matter the cause of all our previous fights, we always had found a way to solve them. They ended with a hug and a nice movie, not with me locking myself in my room.

At exactly 2:54am, I wasn't able to suppress the urge to pee anymore.

Quickly and quietly tiptoeing across the hallway, I did my business within no time, also finally brushing my teeth and untangling my hair.

My ears and head had started to hurt after endless hours of loud music, hence I had no idea if Harry had left or decided to sleep in the living room.

I focused on my breathing, trying to keep it as quiet as humanly possible, but the extra attention I was paying only made it seem louder than ever before.

I poked along the hallway, avoiding to make a noise that could betray my whereabouts.

Slowing down when I reached the doorframe to the living room, I listened carefully. Slowly and steady, a breathing whispered through the air until it reached my ears, tipping me off that Harry was, in fact, sleeping in the living room.

Creeping inside, I saw him lying on the couch in a twisted position, one leg hanging over the side and dangling down.

Tentatively, I opened the cabinet next to the television, retrieving a blanket to throw it over Harry's body. He was still wearing his skinny jeans and t-shirt, the flannel shirt and boots disposed at the end of the couch.

A pang of guilt and regret shot through me. How could I just have doubted him that easily?

I put the blanket over his body to keep him warm and pushed his hair back to plant a kiss on his forehead. Harry shifted slightly and his breathing stocked for a moment before picking up its steady pace, gratefully not causing him to wake up.

The moonlight shone gently on his face, highlighting his kissable lips.

My feet carried me back to my room after I had fought the urge to lay down next to my sleeping boyfriend.

The rest of the night was spent just like the start, my mind drifting in and out of a fidgety slumber, not quite catching the rest I needed.

At 7:17am, I gave up on trying to sleep. Demonstratively throwing my blanket aside, I put my feet back on the ground and tiptoed back into the living room.

The familiar, constant breathing was still audible, but something in the air had changed.

"Zoey?" Harry's raspy morning voice rang out to me before I had even fully stepped into the room.

"Harry?" I stupidly asked, well aware that it was obviously him.

I entered the living room to find Harry sitting up on the couch, his feet placed on the ground and his face hidden in his hands while his elbows were propped up on his thighs.

To be completely honest, he looked like he had barely gotten any sleep.

Upon my entrance, he lifted his head to lock his eyes with mine. The paleness of his skin nearly made my breathing falter, but on closer inspection I saw that it was only the bad incidence of light; the sun streaming in through the windows made everything look brighter.