034

n/ sorry sorry for the late update 

8:38PM

"Stop leaving your damn shoes around," Harry annoyingly snapped, forcefully throwing one of my shoes into the corner of the room.

I stifled a laugh, knowingly. It was the third time he had tripped over the same shoe, and I never bothered to pick it up and neither did he. He never cleans, anyway.

I've decided to stop getting offended whenever he reacts to things with such force and disrespect. Of course, it won't be forgiven as usual, but I won't let it affect me. He's just so hard to get through, I'm forced to let most of it go in the end.

Eventually, I ignored it and found him slipping his t-shirt off quite angrily. The way he gets so infuriated by the smallest things makes me smile, and with flaw as he peered up at me just as I began to chuckle.

"You think this is funny?" He asked lowly, narrowing his pale green eyes.

I covered my mouth with the back of my hand, that hand clutched. He stared for a couple of more seconds when he shot forward to me, and I turned around as if to lessen his ability. Inevitably, I was picked up and tossed onto the bed, landing on my back -- my hair fanning messily across the mattress.

Nearly three seconds later, his warm body hovered over mine. I breathed in heavily from astonishment, laughing out when he continued to suffocate my reddening skin with his deep gaze. My eyebrows rose.

Whatever was that made me react this way to his familiar inhospitable character, it was surely more effective. I was over being offended and continuously upset over how his messed up personality was.

My hands slid up the skin right behind his shoulders, fingernails lightly scratching along the way. I visibly saw his tense body relax. The smooth, warm skin beneath my palms was interrupted by the feeling of his flexing muscles as he shifted, wrapping both of my legs around his waist like it was conventional.

I bit my bottom lip, digging my teeth lighting into with my eyes peering up into his. The chill rushing up my spine, familiar quench of excitement in my stomach.

Visibly amused, I murmured, "Stop getting so angry over everything. Laugh. Do you ever laugh, Harry?"

"I don't laugh," he answered huskily, dropping his hand down to my waist and grabbing hold of my hip later on. He squeezed my flesh and leaned his head down, our foreheads touching as he brushed his lips over my own.

I sighed heavily, slipping my fingers into his thick curls. "Why not?" I asked quietly.

Harry watched me carefully. "Nothing to laugh about. Now," he began, sliding his warm tongue across his bottom lip with eyes focused on mine. "Just shh," he murmured.

Our lips met in a hard, passionate impact of lust and desire. I let my eyes flutter closed with the only sensation strong enough to pull me into bliss -- his lips. I parted my mouth for him, allowing our tongues to enhance the deepening kiss.

Heat raised dramatically between us as he pulled from my mouth and let his warm, plump lips kiss a trail down my neck. My head lulled to the side, nearly moaning when he began to suck on the spot that sent heavier chills through me.

I gripped his curls tighter. He groaned quietly against my skin, making the ache appear between my legs. Just the sound and feel of him brought me completely under frustration for more of his mercilessly rebellious touch.

The heel of my right foot rubbed up and down the back of his legs, unable to stay still with his lips furiously kissing and sucking on my skin. When he had pulled away, I let my thumb trace the shape of his mouth, a darker shade of pink from our kisses.

"How's your wound?" I asked in a whisper. 

"Better," is all he said, leaning down to place a small kiss on my collarbone. Then, he pulled away from my body, taking the warmth of his body with him, and climbing off the bed in search for his shirt. Once he found it, he slipped it back on, ruffling his curls and his muscles flexing in the process. 

I watched in confusion why he was dressing himself again. He glanced at me briefly, murmuring, "Zayn's coming back. I need to expect him before he barges in and sees what exactly I'm up to." 

"It's not like he's going to confess to my father," I stated. 

He clenched his jaw and shook his head. "You'd be surprised."

Soon after, he walked out the bedroom. I lied on my back, sighing heavily when I let a girlish smile take over my face. My hand rose to press my fingertips against my lips. I could never resist kissing him. Ever since it first happened, it's all that seems to mask the fear of being hunted down. 

I changed into a pair of black leggings and a graphic tee, slipping on socks. I proceeded to leave the bedroom to find Harry in the fridge, pulling out what seemed to be a can of Red Bull. 

He gazed up at me, keeping his pale green eyes shortly scanning my outfit before he shut the fridge door and opened the can, taking a slow sip with his eyes still burning into me. 

"Do you actually listen to the bands on your shirts, or is that some idiotic fashion statement nowadays?" He asked me suddenly while I took a seat on the couch. He followed, leaning against the armrest of the opposite side. Harry continued to sip on the can. 

I peeked down at what my shirt said. It was the Rolling Stones. 

"On the iPod I used to have before it broke in the luggage you threw in the trunk a while ago, I did have one of their albums on it. So, I guess I do listen to the bands on my shirts," I said, sounding much more harsh than I intended to.

Harry watched me with a stern expression. "Watch the attitude." He warned lowly. 

"Sorry?" I apologized in a form of a question. 

"I used to have that shirt. Exact one." He ignored my attitude this time, tipping his head to finishing the Red Bull. It was still impressive how fast he could drink. I watched his adam's apple bob up and down until he placed the can on the coffee table with a lean forward. 

I raised my eyebrows. "What happened to it?" 

"I lost interest in music." 

"How do you lose interest in music? Everyone needs music." 

"Not me," he stated with a dryness all too familiar. "I don't need anything." 

A pause engulfed us before I murmured, "Are you sure you're human?" 

"Sure am. Just without the emotional aspects."

"What happened to you? What made you this way?" I asked with furrowed eyebrows, shaking my head. I couldn't accept the fact that he was so heartless, literally. He could not express anything at all besides anger and annoyance, frustration, lust, or irritation. Yet all the positive aspects of life had no chance. 

Harry did not seem pleased at all. "If I told you nearly two months ago that nothing made me this way, what makes you think the answer changed, Catalina?" He snapped, evidently uncomfortable talking about this topic. 

He went to stand up, but I moved forward and pressed my hands against his chest, his back pressed against the arm rest like it was. Between his legs, I knelt and stared at him with concern. He gazed back at me with nothing short of irritation and anger.

"You don't have to get angry all the time," I confessed gently with a tiredness to my voice. 

Harry moved around his jaw until it settled, his eyes averting behind me before he let them wander back to mine. "I'm not angry." He denied lowly.

"Yes you are," I told him quietly. I made a bold move when I leaned forward and kissed his steady lips. I removed my hands from his chest, closer to his body as my arms wrapped around his neck. Harry gradually began to kiss me back, up until when his hands grabbed my hips and he pulled away just slightly. 

His hot breath fanned against my lips when he spoke. "I don't understand you." He simply admitted. 

"I don't understand you," I repeated to him, feeling a mutual confusion. 

"Am I speaking Chinese to you all the time? Let me know if I am." He rolled his pretty eyes. 

"Probably." I answered dryly, trying to mimic him. 

"Stab me with a fork." 

I scrunched up my nose. "Violent," I accused softly.

"Weak." He hissed at me. 

"Strong enough to punch your crotch." I remarked.

Harry stared at me carefully. "I forgot to ask. How did my balls feel, baby?" 

"Fabulous," I snapped sarcastically, knowing he was expecting me to blush. I did -- I turned red and I could feel it like a sudden gust of wind. However, I managed to choke a sarcastic remark without processing that he had called me baby.

I continued, surprisingly. "How did falling to ground and crying like a helpless baby feel?"

He gazed me with a hard look. "Helpless." He spat. "Did you just fucking call me helpless?" 

I rambled off, ignoring him completely. "I remember the countless amount of insults I've received. Hmm...a brat, weak, stupid, never shuts up, too skinny, an idiot...," I gazed down at him, watching him frown deeply. 

"Catalina, a minute ago you said I shouldn't get angry all the time, but now you're initiating it." He stated hardly. "And all of those aren't true. I was pissed off." 

"You're always pissed off." 

"Because of you!" He exclaimed with irritation. "Always fighting me back and testing how far you can go until I'm literally lit on fire with anger. So many fucking boundaries you've broken. Most people are scared, but you just..."

"I just what?" 

He stared, shaking his head. "You're none of those things," he said instead, his voice stern. I felt his hand rest on my thigh. "You're intelligent, patient, and you are beautiful." 

I should be flattered, but I found myself hardly feeling it. My fingers fumbled with the collar of his shirt, eyes averted to the fabric as he watched me. "I wish I could tell you what I think, but I don't know if they're true. All I know is your name and job. But I don't know you."

I looked up and watched his lips move as he sighed. "There's not much good in someone who can kill people without a trace of guilt, Dollface." 

"I --" 

My voice was interrupted by the computer. Harry turned his head and that was cue for me to get off of him. I did so and followed him quickly to the computer.

He slid his finger across the screen, reading off from a data graph in concentration when the same alarm beeped again from the front door. This time, Harry had wasted no time to glance at the other screen, and lock his eyes with the silhouette that undeniably belonged to Zayn.

"Wow, he got here pretty fast." I commented, squinting at the screen. In the video, Zayn had been standing there stiffly, looking from side to side occasionally. Not a single emotion laced on his features rather than a casual form of anger.

Harry slid the chair away from the desk and stood away from it. He opened the door for Zayn with a press of a few keys, and undoubtedly, a couple of seconds later, Zayn stood at the door, hazel eyes scanning the area just up until he saw us. 

Zayn said nothing as he kicked off his shoes and firmly tossed them to the floor. He ran his hands up and down his face as the door behind him was closed again. 

"Eight days, three hours, six minutes, and forty four seconds of my life spent locked up in some apartment, Harry." He informed, looking beyond frustrated. 

"Shit happens," Harry replied dryly. 

Hazel eyes gazed up at him with slight annoyance. "I'm taking a shower." Then, as he walked past us, he peered at me and said, "Nice to know you're alive, too, Catalina." 

"Thanks?" I frowned. 

He walked away into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. I turned my body to face Harry, eyes peering up at him while he rubbed a hand up and down his face. A sigh escaped his lips as murmured, "I haven't done shit because of you." 

"I'm sorry I'm a distraction," I told him, struggling to keep off my smile. 

He glared at me. "Watch the sarcasm, baby." 

n/ wow harry u lil dipshit