Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

94

"What? So you're telling me if people had been scared of you, that you wouldn't fuck with their heads?" He looked me up and down, I repeatedly shook my head to the side as in indication to 'no, I wouldn't!'

"You're really nothing like me." He stuck his tongue between his teeth, scouring his eyes across the restaurant. But the minute his green irises landed on a sight, he lowly shrieked. Who's the scared one now?

"What is it?" I furrowed my brows, and he did too.

"Nothing." He was sounding a whole lot like me from earlier, when he told me he didn't want me to act like that and basically to just be open with him. Hypocritical. If he could force an answer out of me, I can do the exact same.

"Harry.. what's the matter? I know when something is wrong." I grabbed his had and fisted it into my own. "I know you like the back of my hand."

"I know. You wouldn't know, it's.. hard to make sense of." He swallowed, and I only squeezed his hand tighter.

"Harry.. my love, please what's the matter?"

"God, don't do the puppy eyes." He looked away from my features that had been irresistible to him, and lightly tried to snag my hand away but I wouldn't let him.

"Tell me." I forced, and he sighed.

"My mother and sister, they're over there." He slumped down to admit, almost as if he didn't want to be seen by them. It took me by surprise, why was he so worked up over that?

"They are? What's so bad about that, Harry? Shouldn't we go say hello?" I smiled, but it instantly faded away when Harry looked up at me and gave me the death stare. I assumed that was his silent 'no.'

I got up from my seat, cradling Chip in my arms like I had once, and slithered into the booth next to Harry. I was trying to see what he had been seeing, and there I saw was a woman and a girl chatting over a fine evening dinner, but it could've been anyone.

"Tell me which ones they are?" I peered out, looking over again.

"The two blondes." He gulped, he swallowed so loudly that I could hear it from his throat and  into my ears that had been ringing. I turned my sight up to him, and he was gradually dripping in sweat.

"No.. why are you so nervous?" I demanded an answer, and he looked down at me.

"Because." He gritted through his teeth, leaning down to kiss the top of my head like he had been preparing for his answer. "I haven't seen them since... since I ran away from home."

"You haven't?" I gasped, almost a little too loudly. His mother and sister had been far from across the room, the only good people in his family from what he told me. The kind ones, the good Styles'.

"I'm sure they miss you tons, Harry." I looked up, and he looked down and shook his head.

"They probably do." He whispered into my ear, "but I'm too nervous to see them."

"I'll go with you, you need to tell them that you're okay. For all they know, they could think you're dead and you never ran away, that you just got killed somehow." I bit down on my lower lip, I hated talking about the hypothetical ways of him dying, but it's the truth.

"Mother loved me, you know?" He looked down, I nodded.

"I'm sure she did. She misses you, Harry. I know she does. I've never met her, but she seems the kind who'd miss her own child that she carried in her womb for nine months and birthed, right?"

"She is kind, so very kind. I always told her about that girl in kindergarten." He told me what's he's said before on the airplane, I nodded my head up and down, sliding out of the booth and taking Chip with me.