Dust Bones [Harry Styles]

010

        How dreadful can a person's presence be? If I thought Harry avoided conversation and interaction with me at first, I was incredibly wrong. He completely, without a doubt, tried to ignore me the rest of the way. Everything that was necessary for travel, he did on his own without daring to look at me. I knew now what he was thinking. Disgusting thoughts, passionate wants. Harry is so twisted, it makes me sick.

        Sick because there was a chance I wanted that, too.

        No, I'd tell myself. Not a chance. I even questioned my dislike towards him. If he was going to ignore me, then I should do the same. No more questions, no more conversation. Father would be meeting us in a car at the airport. So, it was time to be professional. Act as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened. Well, besides getting chased to no ends by buff men in ski masks.

        I carefully made sure that my bags were in check. Once we had came down from the private plane, Harry and I were escorted to my father's car. He didn't bother coming out from the vehicle, so I had a feeling he wasn't too keen on seeing me accompany them. Everything is not as planned, utterly out of order. One of the many things he despises with a weirdly great passion.

        My lips were pressed into a tight line, some of the warm wind blew my hair on my face, which I feverishly wiped away. I hadn't dared to open my mouth and verbally express what I tiresome journey it has been. No one was making conversation as a few men packed our things into the trunk of the black, tinted windows car. 

        I sat between my father and Harry. There was an abnormal sense of neglect in the air. Once I was out of the way, they'd start discussing matters like the twisted humans they both are. Despite the things I know my father has done, there's nothing left to do about it but accept it. However, since Harry isn't anything important to me, I find myself compelled to feel disgusted by him. 

        It's a hypocritical way to defend my father and declare that my father and Harry are two different people when really their will and motives go beyond the extent of darkly cruel and horrifying. They are similar and it's not a little white lie.

        "I suppose you've both have quite the stressful past few days." My father began, breaking the silence like battering a windshield of glass. "I think it's a good time to rest and relax until we officially attend the matters. Especially you, Harry." 

        I stared ahead of me, refusing to react.

        Harry, however, was rather less stiff about the uncomfortable atmosphere than I was. He nodded his head, folding his large hands on his lap. "That would be great, sir. Thank you."

        "Catalina." Father called beside me, quietly yet demanding my attention to be focused on him.

        I looked at him without another doubt. "Yes?"

        "I hope you behaved. And also that you listened and gave Harry a less of a hard time than he has had already." He said lowly, his eyes focused on the world outside rather than me.

        My vision was focused on him. The way my lips parted and my voice trapped itself in my throat with hesitation would ensure anyone that I did neither of those things, which is not entirely true. I wanted to say that Harry himself gave me a hard time. I am not the only one to blame for being more of a trouble than I already seem to both my father and Harry.

        I didn't, however. I hadn't spoken a word, and refusing to do so only earned me an unfriendly admirer. Silence.

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