No Matter What // Harry Styles AU -- Dunkirk inspired

Chapter Forty

Harry's P.O.V

I slam my hands against the desk, the force of it burning into the center of my palms.

What the hell just happened?

What the bloody hell just happened?

Nothing makes sense. And between the car crash of questions colliding in my mind and the sudden, deep ache in my chest, it's impossible to process anything but anger.

I push myself up off the desk, my hands flying to my temples. I just need my head to stop pounding. Why won't it stop pounding?

"So..."

Completely forgetting he was here, I whip around to see Louis wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"Take it you and Chapman are a thing, then," he chuckles.

I eye him angrily as I straighten up and storm over to my chair, kicking the small bin out of the way as I nearly trip over it.

"Well someone's a wet blanket," he says.

"What do you want, Louis?" I ask under my breath, collapsing into the chair with the weight of the world.

"Nothin'. Just came in for a chat, that's all."

"About Kitty? Mate, could you have any worse timing?" I ask, rubbing my head as I lean forward onto my desk. Good grief, Hazel's gonna think I'm some goon who stares at girls all day. Like that creep, Westwood.

The memory of how his eyes had slowly travelled up and down her slender body at the party puts a pit in my stomach. It nearly makes me sick when the thought of him actually touching her crosses my imagination.

My foul thoughts are interrupted by the rolling of a pencil that refuses to stay put. In my frustration, I pick up the stupid instrument and hurl it to the side.

"Mate," Louis says with concern, "you've got to settle."

"Sorry," I mutter quietly. My anger morphs again, this time bringing an unfamiliar sting to my eyes. I keep my face down, but I can hear him take a seat across from me.

Off in the distance, a car roars, the tires screeching as it drives farther away, and I pray it isn't her.

"Did you drive her here?" I ask Louis, my voice muffled by my hands.

"Nope," he replies. God, if she hurts herself...

"I've been bored out of my mind for the last hour so I decided to go poke fun of Kitty for a bit before coming to bother you, which clearly" he leans forward as he jokes with me, "was a mistake might I add."

I smile weakly at him, but turn to look out of the window. Knowing that she must have driven herself wakes this queasy protectiveness inside my stomach. Even now, angry as I am, I just want her back safely set in my arms.

But that deep ache only rattles the empty cage surrounding my heart and causes the only sentence that I could process through our whole fight to echo throughout my body:

She doesn't want me.

I let out a heavy sigh as my anger begins to drain away. I almost wish it would back, though. Anything's better than the numbing ache of emptiness.

"So.." Louis says, drumming his fingertips against his legs as he cautiously stares at me.

"So," I repeat quietly, keeping my eyes fixed on the papers in front of me.

"You, um," he stutters while he sits up in the chair. He clears his throat as he eyes me a little uncomfortably. "So do you wanna chat about it, then?"

I eye him curiously for a second. He's my best mate, but in all our years of chasing girls, we've never really talked about them before. Except for that one time Irene Bradley dogged him. But even then, we maybe spent about five minutes cussing about girls and then spent the rest of the night egging her house.