[COMPLETED] where she sat and ate her strawberries, while he smoked his cigarettes.
-harry styles au
-set in summer of 1998
-mentions rape, sexual assault, abuse, fighting, and suicide
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~Harry~
"Bullshit," he says harshly as he rips the bag out of her hands and closes it quickly, throwing it into the floor as he stares at the girl.
Marley Jeen Beck.
The very bane of Harry's existence.
The brown haired, blue eyed girl was known to be quite a lot of things to Harry Styles. She was the rain to his sunny day, the cramp in his leg that wouldn't go away, the scratch on his back he could never seem to reach, a leech stuck to his skin, the pain he can never get out of his ass.
The two had hated each other since the day they met. At the age of six they were at each other's throats before they even knew each other's name.
There was no real rhyme or reason for the pair to infuriate one another so much, but nevertheless she hated that he was a reckless asshole just like how he hated her painfully optimistic view of the world.
"i'm too tired for this Harry," she says carefully as she bends down to grab her bag.
She walks over to the chair that sits in the corner of the room as he places her bag on top of it. Her hair dripping with water as she removes her hood, the thin fabric not doing a very good job of protecting it. She quickly unzips her black sweatshirt before taking the end of her shirt and ringing out onto the carpet, a sigh escaping her lips when she finally realizes how wet she is.
She turns to him lightly as he is still watching her, before a small smirk appears onto her face as she looks down.
He narrows his eyes for a second before remembering that he is in fact still in the towel from his shower, he rolls his eyes as he takes his dry clothes that now found themselves on the floor as he makes his way into the bathroom.
"where are you going," she asks him quietly, almost with fear in her voice as she takes a step closer to him.
"Well, unless you want a show," he says smugly, choosing to ignore the uneasy tone in her voice as thunder booms behind them, "I suggest you stay out here."
The smirk is still on his face as he shuts the door, looking down at the towel on his waist with a slight chuckle thinking about how long he had actually been wearing it.
He ignores the feeling of relief inside of him when he realizes that the towel was big enough to cover his thighs, something that never even crossed his mind until just now. He isn't sure why, but for some reason he finds himself putting on his clothes faster than he normally would. His mind is racing with thoughts as he mentally takes a step back to look at the situation he found himself in.
How the hell did he go from fingering a chick in some shitty apartment to being in the Tomlinson guest room with Marley fucking Beck?
