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Leo's eyebrow raises as the door opens and Harry leaves your bedroom the next morning. He's opened the door to the bathroom, ready to step in, and he shares an awkward 'morning' with Harry on the landing. You can practically see Harry's cheeks redden from behind him, and you're not at all surprised when Leo sneaks in now Harry is back in his own room, a disapproving look on his face.
"What happened?!" He whispers, surprised. He has an angry look on his face but you can tell its a facade. You think you might be able to see a bit of a grin curling at his lips. You cock your head to the left to show him you've noticed and he raises his eyebrows again, smiling this time.
"Nothing" You say quietly, highlighting the fact that you were in different beds. Leo shrugs and asks you why he felt the need to come into your room in the first place. You're left with a decision, tell the truth straight out and risk annoying Harry, or lie, and risk Leo knowing and risk annoying him. You figure that Leo will find out eventually, and if you're honest with him, he might not tell Harry he knows.
You sigh and wonder where to start.
"When Harry took me off to talk to him last night... Well he was telling me off really, because I was flirting with Dean" You begin uncertainly.
"Nikki, why didn't you tell anyone that you ended things with Jack?" Leo says suddenly.
You stare at him, not sure quite what to say or how he found out. He looks at you like he's your father, and he's disappointed. You drop your gaze and pray that the sensation crawling across the veins deep within your cheeks isn't the beginnings of a blush.
"He told me." Leo adds and you sigh. "I don't know." You admit.
"Why did you leave him?"
You smirk and wonder if Leo could be that blind. Surely anyone could have seen through that sham of a relationship? One glance at his face shows you that he could see that, he's just trying to get you to admit it.
"Harry." He says quietly. You say nothing, your silence should be enough of an answer. He'd hit the nail on the head. After the invite had arrived for the wedding, you hadn't been able to clear your mind of the man in the room next door. Leo sighs and takes your hand gently. A smile turns the corners of your lips but it's a smile of sadness rather than joy.
"What happened last night?" He probes, realising he'd lost track of his original question. You roll your eyes, you'd half hoped he'd forgotten about it. "When you were talking?"
"I don't know how it happened." You begin, and you can see the warning written all over his face before you open your mouth again. "But we kissed –"
"-Nikki!" Leo blurts out, trying his best to keep his tones hushed. You feel like a naughty child. "He's getting married"
"I know!" You sigh. "I know."
He gazes at you and he can read the hurt and confusion written in your expression. He wants desperately to help, you know, but it's far too late for you to be happy now.
"Nothing else happened, did it?" He questions, realising why you are having this conversation. "Why did he sleep here?"
"No, nothing happened. He was upset over what we'd done and we talked and said we're going to pretend it didn't happen. We were both incredibly drunk and he was just having a moment of cold feet, that's all." You finish your sentence more loudly than you would have liked, signalling the end of the conversation. Leo raises his eyebrow slightly, but you're sure that your open soul with its bleeding wounds is visible to him. You've never told him how you feel about Harry, but he's always known.
Leo squeezes your hand gently before releasing it and resuming his original purpose of showering. You sit up against the headboard and stare blankly at the wall opposite, wishing that time would hurry and your nightmare would be over.
The moment you've dreaded, the moment that Lisa comes home from her hen party, comes around quicker than you would have liked. You wish you knew Harry less well, because you can see the tiny differences in him as he greets her, compared with their goodbye yesterday. You notice the way his left arm stiffens slightly as it loops around her back, not as loosely or carefree as yesterday. You perceive the way he doesn't know what to do with his right arm, and props his hand awkwardly on her hip. You can see the lack of conviction in his eyes as he plants a kiss on her lips, and you can tell that your friend is nervous.
When they turn to greet you, Harry is eyeing you anxiously, as if you'd go back on your promise. You ignore his gaze, and instead smile broadly at Lisa, who doesn't seem to notice and instead presses another kiss on Harry's cheek. They go upstairs to unpack her overnight things, and suddenly Leo is behind you, a comforting hand on your back. You lean into him softly, thankful that he's here.
Later that night, when you're tucked up in bed, you hear a metallic creaking and groan quietly. You lean over and pull ear plugs from your wash bag, shoving them angrily into your ears to drown out the noises that haunt you. Your imagination runs riot and you start when you realise the tears that flood your face. A few tissues later and you feel like a ghost, a hollow of a person that hasn't functioned properly since she was abandoned. The tears fall again when you hear the dulcet tones of Harry's moans, loud enough to penetrate past your ear plugs. You can feel vibrations in the floor shaking your bed slightly, but you try to block it out, closing your eyes tightly and humming softly to yourself until you find yourself wrapped in a drowsy embrace.
Long after things have gone quiet, a while after you have been taken by sleep, your door opens and your eyes flash open. For the second time in as many days, Harry is stood in front of you with red eyes. He doesn't ask this time, he pulls back your covers as you push yourself back against the wall, making space for him. His eyes are free of sleep, you notice, when he lays his head down on the pillow. You don't know what's going on, but you half think it's a dream; a figment of your imagination, at least. You're disorientated from the recent sleep. You watch him for a few minutes. He's not meeting your gaze, he looks almost afraid to do so. Your autonomic hand finds itself on his cheek, and it shakes him from his thoughts enough to get caught in your eyes.
"She left." He whispers into the silence. Your mouth drops suddenly and your eyebrows raise, surprise written all over you. You hope he can't hear your palpitations, to you they seem like drums in the dead of night.
"What?" You manage to splutter. You don't understand, everything seemed fine earlier.
"I did something stupid, and she's gone."
"What?" You ask again, conscious that you sound like a blubbering idiot.
"I don't want to talk about it." He whispers with a hint of finality, and you know to be quiet. You shuffle closer to him, taking comfort in the body heat and the sound of his heart. His long arm snakes around your back, and you only now realise that you're only wearing a nightshirt and knickers. You swallow as he shifts his position, simultaneously pulling your shirt up to place his hand on your bare skin. You're glad your eyes are closed, the proximity and the situation are playing tricks with your body that the sight of him might aid. You know he just wants to feel close to someone, but your fantasies aren't saying the same. You're thankful for your gender, thankful that your body can't betray you quite like a man's would have. It certainly wouldn't help things.
His fingers play with the skin on your back and goosebumps erupt down your legs. You hold your breath as they slide higher up your back and flick to the side, threatening to touch the edge of your breast. He knows what he's doing. You open your eyes to find his closed, and move his arm away with yours. He looks at you then and you shake your head softly. You can see his longing, but you know it's not for you but for the feeling. You finally understand why he's doing it when you catch the smell of vodka on his breath.
"You're drunk Harry." You say quietly, and he nods in silence. His arm returns to its spot on your back but he pulls your shirt down again. His head rests against your shoulder, features buried into the pillow. Out of pity and love, you kiss his hair and hold him until you find yourself almost asleep again. You don't mention sharing the bed tonight.
