Dust Bones [Harry Styles]

047

note: follow my twitter @thenoshipzone or i throw tater tots at you (jk jk)

idk who made this edit but it's amazing, and the remix on the side is so cool i'm actually such a remix geek. i like a song, so i have to find a remix.

this is one of those stories where you have to read the details bc then you're completely lost, and idk why i have a habit of writing like that, but i'm happy a lot of people read them :) 

chapter is REALLY long, but try and read every detail plz. thanks for reading homies.

I hold a refrigerated bottle of water in my right hand, the other occupied by a pack of ice. The house seems lonely, unusually quite with the lack of men around at the moment.

I've spent most of the hours in a day with Harry, and his stubbornness towards being cared for.

Swinging the door open, I gaze up to find him standing with obvious struggle. The clench of his jaw and his lips pressed harshly into each other makes it evident. I sigh heavily and let my shoulders lazily droop.

"Harry, I told you to stop trying to get up," I groan in slight frustration, though I have half accepted he's not going to give in so easily.

He grunts lightly and tries to stand up straight. Once he's steady on his feet, he breathes, "I'm fine."

I scurried over to him, placing the bottle of water on the bedside table and the pack of ice next to it. My hands reach to aid him, but he shakes his head and warns, "Cata."

"You're going to hurt yourself," I insist. "You need to rest."

Harry's eyebrows furrow as he stubbornly ignores my advice and continues to walk to the bathroom. I can't believe he is so injured and he's forcing himself regardless.

In the bathroom, having followed him, he undoes the belt and zipper of his jeans, standing by the toilet.

"Care to watch me piss?" Harry spats sarcastically with his back to me.

I'm not as bothered as I would have been before, so I only roll my eyes and stand by the sink to at least wash my exhausted face.

"I was only kidding with you," he then says, as if he thought I took it in as him being rude.

I turn on the faucet and look at myself in the mirror. Face paled, eyelids a soft pink color from excessive crying. My eyes have dark circles and my hair is just an awful rat's ass. I can't continue to look at myself so I look down at the running water.

"I know," I murmur, bending down to wash my face. But I can't as a pair of hands grab me by the arms. He pulls me away from the faucet and turns me around.

He traces his thumb across my cheek, and I gazed up at him with a frown.

"You should be sleeping," I said to him quietly.

"I've slept enough," he mutters, reaching behind me to turn off the running water. "But if you insist, you have to join me."

"I can't sleep," I sigh. "My father could call me down or something."

Harry slips his hand into mine, thumb rubbing across my knuckles. "If he calls, I'm sure we'll hear someone call for you."

"Harry --"

"Stop. He's only letting you take care of me so he can later use me. He won't be calling you for anything until I'm healed."

I pause. "He won't be calling to just talk to me either. But it's fine. I don't want to see him either."