BLACK (H.S)

BLACK Chapter 23

Song: Stitches - Shawn Mendez

Quote: "Stop looking for happiness in the same place you lost it."

BLACK Chapter 23
Amelia's Thoughts:

"Harry? Who the hells Harry?" What an odd choice of vowel.

Ha-rry. 2 syllables. Harry Styles...Interesting.

"Who I wish I could be?" He answers the question, disturbing my inner thoughts.

"What are you going on about?" My sarcasm reaches over to him.

He groans, his voice steering deeper. "Oh my god Amelia," He pinches the middle of his nose, overwhelmed.

"What?" I roll my eyes to his irritated posture across my comforter.

"Do you ever not questioning everything?" He complains with an angered tone of voice.

I shrug. "Not really," I don't believe I ask that many questions. It's only figure of speech. He needs to chill.

His eyes roll with displeasure at the sound of my mouth disrespecting him. "Well, it is really annoying. So please stop that." He gestures to my bottom lip, indenting his fingerprints across the skin.

"Quit calling me annoying." I pout against his fingers.

"Quit thinking you know me." He raises his eyebrows, swatting his hand from my skin, impatiently.

"I do know you, Styles." I tell him confidently. "Do not call me that!" He angers himself of the name.

"Ok, sorry...Harry." I correct myself. Fūck, it feels so weird. I'm still going to call him Styles.

"You do not know what I am capable of," He lingers on the words just spoken. "You do not know what I have done..."

I sigh, mentally rolling my eyes to the human seated across the edge of my bed. Here comes the figurative speech he craves so very much.

"I don't care about what you have done, why can't you seem to understand that already." I inform him truthfully, even though it's quite foolish to have to repeat what has already been justified chapters ago. He needs to pay attention.

"Amelia," He says sweetly, touching the side of my face with his palm. The whipped cream that was once placed by the side of the table is now between his hands. He lays his head back against the mount of pillows from the headboard and stares to the empty ceiling above our heads. I move over, closer to his touch and my shoulders press towards his chest. His long fingers lock into hair as it falls to the white sheets besides us. "You fall, I fall. Ok?" I lean up to him.

I hear the cap of the canned cream fall to the ground and another fallen object but I don't turn around to see what he has dropped. I hear the sharp points of the bottle as he sprays it into his mouth. "I do not want to fall, I do not want to be me anymore." He says in defeat, licking off his lips. "I'm so tired of my own body." His small voice whispers against the loud silence of our breathing.

"You can not say that, you can't let them win.." I face him, but his stare is still onto the empty space.

"Whatever, I have already lost a long time ago when I let them take over my soul-"