Masked

I lay awake, the cool sun shining on the bed I did try and call Ema, she didn't answer. She keeps saying she's doing some 'business'.

I don't want to get up. I want to lay here forever. But I cannot. I sit up and rub my eyes, getting used to the daylight.

I look beside me and I see an asleep Harry with his calm face and his eyelids lightly closed with a subtle glow to him. He looks like an angel. His hair is a mess and his arm is stretched out slightly. I could watch this sight forever.

Last night was a blur, to say the least.

And I don't regret it.

He wrote a song about me. About me abandoning him after I got the job.

Before that, I saw the Angel himself perform.

And after that, he took away something that I thought he'd never take away.

Butterflies float in my stomach just thinking about it.

I still remember the feel of his soft lips touching my stomach, or his smile against my skin, the way he asked if I were okay, the way he spoke with so much care. I remember the thunder crashing from the outside, one side of Harry's face gleaming in the warm air. I remember the way his hair felt or how red his cheeks were. I remember the feeling of him sliding into me, the way he asked if he was allowed to carry on.

I remember the intimacy that makes my heart flutter and my cheeks burn pink.

Taking me out of my thought, Harry turns over to face me, still asleep as ever. All I can do is smile. He looks so peaceful. His lips that once touched mine are slightly parted and his facial features are calm and soft as he takes slow breaths.

I weave my hands in his hair and I watch him smile, making me smile back. "Good morning," I whisper, not wanting to interrupt his sleep. I need some water.

I peel myself off the bed.

Ow.

I ache.

Lots.

I sigh as I slowly start to walk again, trying to ingore the agony.

Then Harry takes my hand, stopping me in my tracks. I turn back to see a half-awake Harry, making my cheeks ache from the pink tint appearing. "Good morning," He says in a croaky, morning voice.

Best sound in the world, may I just add.

"How was your sleep, love?" He croaks.

My heart melts to his question, almost forgetting to answer. "Great, Harry," I smile. He smiles back as he bats his eyes open, displaying his beautiful green ones. "Want some water?" I ask.

"Only if you're getting some," He says, sitting up. I smile as I walk away. Ouch. "Sorry, love," He chuckles, making his way off the bed.

I turn around to face the door as I get swept off of my feet, making my stomach bubble from the ecstatic feeling. I laugh in response as he takes us to the large kitchen. "Harry, I can still walk," I laugh, him not placing me down.

"From what I can see, you can't walk so, I will assist you, Miss Harriet," He jokes as I reach up to take two cups from the cupboard, my heart still clenching, stomach aching from the thrill.

"Why thank you, Mr Laynes," I smile, him carrying me to the sink. I turn on the sink and fill up the empty glasses as I see him roll his lips in, staring at my face up and down. I turn off the running water as he places me down on the cold floor, making me shiver slightly.

My lips part as he smiles at me. "Say something," He says in a lowered voice.

My eyes not leaving his I reply "What am I meant to say?" I ask, our hands now entwining unconsciously. My cheeks fade to a pink as our hands raise for no apparent reason.

"Anything," Our faces become closer than before, making my stomach dance. "Miss Harriet, I have grown quite fond of your voice,"

My cheeks burn red to his statement, making my heart skip a beat. Not because I'm scared, not because I'm intimidated or anything. I don't know why I adored him saying that. When I'm around him, I feel a different feeling from what I feel with Emma. I don't know what the feeling is but I feel full. Like a full moon.

Bright and whole.

"Well," I say, flustered, not knowing what to say. "my favourite colour's yellow," I say, his lips close to mine "I urrrm-" What do I say? "I hate baths and despise of my feet," I smile.

He then removes his hands from mine then picks me up so my legs are clinging on to him like a koala on a tree. "Don't stop," He smiles whilst he takes us over to the couch.

What am I meant to say? I have lots of thoughts basically every second of the day but as soon as I get asked about them I go blank. Jokes. Everyone likes jokes, right? "What does the rug say to the floor? Don't worry, I got you covered," He faintly laughed at my terrible joke.

Until my heart drops.

"H-harry?" I say, unable to speak clearly. I look away and into his now concerned eyes. "S-someone... I- behind y-you," I say, tears filling my eyes.

Harry's head darts behind him to find that nothing's there.

The masked man has disappeared.

He places me down onto the couch, keeping an eye on behind. "Stay there," He says.

Before I could answer, he had left my sight.

My hands become sweaty and a pit in my stomach appears, goosebumps overtake my skin and my heart is rather not moving or moving way, way too fast.

"You're boyfriend cant help you," The masked man says.

I begin to open my mouth but I've become paralysed. I can't move and certainly cannot talk. My throat becomes dry. This could be it for me.

I've become pale, scared and I don't want to die, not like this. "New York." What? He can tell I'm confused as he chuckles and comes closer to me "Tomorrow. Your sugar Daddy's tour?" No. That's in two days.

"He's not my-"

"No one's t-"

And the three of us stare at each other, frozen, I can tell we all have pits in our stomachs.

The masked man darts at me, sending me into shock whilst I see Harry stood there, not processing anything. Neither am I.

"My turn," The masked man whispers with grit in his deep voice.

I can't breathe.

I can't talk.

I can't process.

I can't move.

I can't do anything.

I look at the unknown man, who is saying something. Anything. I can't understand what he's saying the same way I don't understand what's going on.

Harry has disappeared, voices are no longer speaking, time is no longer existent.

And just like that, I realise:

This is the end for me.

Better luck next time.