Damaged » h. styles au

Chapter 70 - Scarlett

                                                                     70. 

                                                             ●•Scarlett•●

I felt home, is the thing. Not the kind of home I shared with Tyler, but the kind of home I used to have when I was young and naïve and just not compared to every human being who owned my own blood type. It felt natural, calm, relaxed and stress-free, something unique; something I’d been lacking for a while.

And well, Harry seemed to be the only one to bring back that side of me, the one that allowed me to be myself and get rid of a bit of the weight I’ve been holding on my shoulders. With him I felt like I could be stupid, creepy even, just as immature as I’d like, and he wouldn’t judge me, wouldn’t ask me to be something else. He’d just accept whatever I had to give with a huge dimpled smile plastered to his face.

The problem is, even though he’s the one person that makes me feel like the me I buried in the past, he’s also the only one I ought to be careful with; I gave him information about me, therefore I also gave him space to hurt me and disappoint me more than anyone else in my life. Harry’s the only one who knows both sides of my life completely; he doesn’t only have glimpses, he knows exactly what I go through both as Scarlett and Kirsten.

There’s no way I could’ve exposed myself more.

And, honestly, I don’t trust anyone a hundred per cent. There’s no way I can do that, no matter how hard I try. Because I know I’m the rudest person to deal with and my personality is not the most pleasant one could ask for; everything is finite, people’s patience with me is no different.

Plus, no one is fully honest with me, either. Not even Curly, who always speaks his mind without thinking twice. And the reason why I know that is because he hides things I’ve just found out. Almost.

This morning when I woke up and decided to look for one of his jumpers to wear, I ended up finding one that absolutely wasn’t his; far too small and decorated with embroidery that I’d say boys don’t wear. In the kitchen, there was a mug with cute drawings and small hearts, and even though Harry does look like a puppy sometimes, all innocent and stuff, that is certainly not his.

Of course, it’s been through my mind that he might have a teenage sister or something, but then there was this picture at the back of his drawer, along with a ring. It was a picture of a young version of himself, all awkward and with a small tummy poking out of his shirt, kissing a girl that I assume is not his sister, since she’s nothing like him, and, well, they’re kissing. On the lips and everything.

A high school relationship? Most likely. But I hate the thought of maybe still existing something between them, because otherwise, why would he keep a picture of an ugly him from years ago? I don’t think I can deal with committed Harry Styles. The fact that one of us is already engaged into a relationship is just bad enough. It has nothing to do with jealously, from my part, honestly. Because if he’d fooled me all along, that would be the least of my problems.

And that’s basically why I’d mentioned the mug at first place, but his reaction was just indecipherable, so I decided to leave it like that for now. Probably throughout the weeks I would manage to bring the topic back again. I didn’t want to sound pushy or anything.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked, poking my sides whilst propping his chin on my stomach, shaking his head underneath my fingers so that I could go back to messing with his hair. “You’ve been quiet for a while now.”

“Nothing much, to be honest. Do you have the constant need to hear voices?” I asked teasingly, ruffling his hair gently, being careful not to undo the braids.