evergreen ↠ harry styles ✓

+7

It would've been easy for Harry to give up. No one, especially not River, would've stopped him if he chose to up and leave the field.

Yet, for whatever reason, he stuck it out.

Tens of missed hits and he sucked it up. Took it on the chin like it didn't hurt his ego to be quite so terrible at the game. All along, River worked her way across like the pro she had grown to be. Each swing was perfection and it drew Harry's attention. Never when River looked at him—only when she focused on the ball.

"I don't mind giving you some tips," she heard herself say after she hit the ball, attention still on the flying globe. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry snatch his head away from her direction once he figured he'd been caught.

River took time to face Harry as she lived for the dramatics of life. The smug grin on her face was an added bonus until she saw the frown on his face, the pureness of his irritation. It seemed like every time River spoke, Harry turned into himself and did everything in his power to push her away, to deflect, and only radiate negativity towards her.

"Is something the matter?" River asked like she would of if it had been anyone else. All her life, River cared. Whether it was about someone she didn't gel with or someone closest to her heart, she gave, she nurtured, she cared. Harry seemed genuinely troubled.

"Why do you care?" he questioned with coldness that resembled icicles and crisp snow in Courchevel in France. While it was the expected response from Harry, and somewhat understandable if he truly had something going on, River would've appreciated a nicer answer.

"Your mood is ruining my game," she said with a little bit more of the directness that she usually approached him. Some definition to her tone to even out the softness of her question from a moment ago.

"Move," he said. "No one is holding a gun to your head."

River raised her eyebrows as she dared him to go on but he remained quiet and sulked more. When she didn't respond, Harry continued on to the next hole like their conversation didn't happen.

"You know..." she kept on to push Harry to ease her curiosity. From the first moment she laid her eyes on him, she thought he was interesting. If not because of the way he kept her at an arm's length, then because River thought everyone was interesting. Harry appeared closed off, and incredibly private. Both of which River didn't feel she could relate to. "I come here a lot when I can't make sense of things."

Once again, as River anticipated, Harry left her hanging. Similarly, his lack of hit backs from earlier, and right now, further poked at River's curiousness and wrestled with her until it won.

"There is something freeing in minimising your feelings into the swing and hitting the ball away with the force like you are ridding yourself of what's troubling you," she explained, even though Harry likely ignored her. Somehow, the raw honesty felt right to show, to be vulnerable with him because he didn't care enough to make River feel any type of way. Interestingly, she realised in that moment, she enjoyed the conversations—bickering—between them for that very reason.

Suddenly, Harry stopped and turned on River. The distance between them didn't feel spacious enough. "I came out here to be alone in silence. I do not need tips, I do not need lessons in golf. I do not want to listen to your voice, and I do not want to listen to my own. Am I being clear, or do I need to rephrase myself?"

If River thought she received a hateful look before, she was wrong. For the fury blazed in Harry's eyes, set his jaw in a firm line which made it seem sharp enough to cut through flesh. He made her feel small and embarrassed, regretful for caring and wanting to help him in any way she could. To be honest, River never encountered anyone who didn't appreciate being related to in a bad moment but she supposed there was a first for everything.