MAD // HARRY STYLES

003

Niall holds the door open for me. When I step inside warm air rushes over my body and the scent of pine filled the room. I look down at myself and immediately feel out of place. My boots were scuffed and worn, my cargo pants could've been washed weeks ago, and the shirt and jacket I had on were less than elegant.

The house reminded me of a few years ago. Back when my family was alive, there was no war, and we could afford to celebrate the holidays.

"Let me get Greg. He should be upstairs. You can take a seat in the living room." He points to the room off to the left.

"Sure," I say and slowly walk over to the living room.

I wasn't sure if this was one of those houses where you were supposed to keep your shoes on inside or take them off, or if they even cared at all. I never understood why it mattered, personally. But people tend to get mad over silly things.

I stand in the middle of the room waiting for Niall and Greg. They had a TV that looked a little too big on the wall and some furniture around it. Right under the TV was a fireplace, which had obviously recently been used, given the few sparks left and blackened wood.

"You brought home a street dweller?" I hear someone, Greg, of course, say. His voice was always on the news, which usually played in shops and restaurants. The footsteps rushed down the stairs like he was eager to see me—eager to kick me out. "What's wrong with you?" I wonder if he knew I could hear. Doubt he'd change his words if he knew I could.

Greg walked into the living room, looking me up and down once. "Her?" He says with disgust laced in his voice.

You made me this way, I wanted to say to him. He is the one who put me in this situation. 

Greg looked similar to Niall. They both had the same blond hair and brown eyes. Greg was taller than Niall, though, and much more muscular. If anyone was intimidating, it was him.

"Be nice, Greg. She's a kind person," Niall defends me for some reason. He steps by my side. "And she needs a job, too. I know you were talking about how certain parts of the military needed more workers."

Greg laughs and I flinch back. I didn't know what I was expecting, but it was not a laugh—not a cynical one, at least. "Are you gonna bring home every nice girl you meet, or is this a one-time thing?" He looks over at his brother, and so do I. Niall didn't seem the least bit intimidated by Greg. Even if I was related to him, I'd probably still be scared of him.

Niall scoffs and shakes his head. "It's a one-time thing. Come on, give her a job," he says. I was surprised, actually. Niall seemed more confident, sterner, when he talked to Greg. He didn't break eye contact at all. Me, on the other hand, I couldn't bring myself to look up at Greg.

"When I told you we needed more workers..." Greg stops and grabs something from his back pocket.

A box of cigarettes.

He takes one from the box and lights it. "When I told you we needed more workers," he repeats himself. "I meant actual workers, people I can trust...not street dwellers who'd do anything for a nickel in their pockets."

He looks over at me, eyes squinted like he already despised me. I knew he did, too. I wasn't stupid. He despised everyone who wasn't rich like him.

He drives me mad.

"You know, it doesn't look so good for you," I mumble and pick up the box of cigarettes that Greg had dropped on the table. I look over at Niall and nodded down to the box, asking permission despite them being Greg's. He nods he head.

It's been ages since I last had a cigarette. Probably over a year by now. I light it and hold it between my teeth, looking around the room as if I was admiring their room when really I just didn't have the guts to look up at Greg. I don't know what prompted me to start speaking in the first place. It was a stupid thing to do.