Fold

Stella sat at the small kitchen table with her hands around her mug of tea. She played her favorite record, Disintegration by The Cure, on her record player and allowed herself to drown in her thoughts as the music played softly throughout the apartment. Her thoughts cut off when there was a knock at the door and she bit her lip, debating whether or not she should get up to answer it, knowing who it was.

“It’s me,” he called out on the other side of the door, as if she didn’t recall him saying he’d be back in the morning.

With a sigh she forced herself to get up, pushing the dirty hair that escaped her bun back, willing them to stay in place this time. She was tired, really fucking tired and she silently prayed he wouldn’t comment on her appearance.

Harry attempted to bite back a smile as he took in the sight of her once she opened the door. He noticed the bruise-like circles under her eyes, her disheveled dark blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, her full lips were hidden as she bit down on her bottom lip and he thought about how she was just as beautiful as ever. His eyes kept traveling down and he noticed how she was wearing his oversized red and black flannel that he purposefully left at their apartment all those months ago. All that was underneath was a fitted black tank top and black underwear. When his eyes made it back to her face there was a new feature there; a furious blush had made it onto her cheeks, obviously meaning she caught him looking at her but he didn’t care.

“Are you coming inside or what?” she asked with a small voice, her gaze focused on the ground the entire time.

He stepped forward and placed a hand on her waist and used his other to close the door behind him. He was half expecting her to pull away from him so he was shocked when she didn’t. He raised an eyebrow at her and she looked up to see so. When she noticed the look on his face she shrugged.

“Ain’t nothing you’ve never seen before.”

“And you’re just as breathtaking as the first time I saw,” he sincerely reminded her.

She walked to the living room and rested back on the couch, letting Harry follow her. She was thankful when he sat down on the other side of the couch at a comfortable distance. She didn’t trust herself to restrain from him for much longer, despite the fact that she had always been so stubborn.

The entire Sunday was filled with nothing but the sound of the records they played. They’d take turns getting up to choose a new record or to flip the one playing over in order to finish it. They didn’t say a single word to each other, not even as they ate pasta in the kitchen, leaning against the counter side by side, bowls of steaming hot food in hand. Before they knew it, all traces of daylight had gone. They were considerably closer on the couch than how they were in the beginning of the day but neither of the two commented on it. It was late, really late, but he wasn’t about to bring that up.

Stella’s eyelids grew heavy and she rested her head on Harry’s shoulder, hardly able to stay awake. Her heart skipped as she inhaled his scent; cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes. He began to stand up but her arms had quickly hooked around his neck before she could stop herself, a whimper escaping her mouth. As mad as she was at him, she needed him. He was an addiction, and he was as addicted to her as she was to him. Good times or bad, the two could never stay from each other. She thought that six months was enough time, enough time to finally end things and cut off feelings. But they came flooding back before she could even try to talk herself out of it.

“Stella,” he chuckled quietly as he hooked his arms around her waist and behind her knees. He picked her up with ease and carried her to her bed, laying her down gently. He was debating on whether or not he should crawl in bed next to her, the idea all too tempting.

“Stay,” she answered his thoughts with a yawn. “Please,” she added.

“You sure?” he asked her, but he was already unzipping his jeans. When she looked at him with wide, confused eyes he smirked down at her.

“Ain’t nothing you’ve never seen before,” he quoted her words from earlier that day. She shook her head and didn’t bother hiding the broad smile that played on her lips.
Once he was just in his boxers and a t-shirt he slid into bed with her, pressing his chest to her back and slinging his arm around her waist.

“I came by today to explain,” he murmured against her shoulder, “to tell you-“

“It can wait,” she cut him off.

“You don’t want to know?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Not now. It’s not important.”

“Important?” he repeated, growing slightly irritated.

“We can’t ever stay away from each other,” she pointed out, irritation in her voice as well. She turned over to face him. “I thought last time was the final straw but once I saw you yesterday I knew I was fuckin’ screwed. So there’s no point in denying anything, and we might as well take it one day at a time. I don’t need to know what happened or what you’ve been up to, at least not now. ” She paused to put her hand on his jaw, feeling the stubble against her skin. “Right now I just want to feel calm. This is what I need. It’s been tough enough; I don’t need more shit on top of it."

Harry stayed silent, knowing she was right and he agreed with what she had to say with every bone in his body.

He’d tell her everything another time.