Harry Styles Shorts and One Shots

Bodyguard 2

18+ only

Word Count: 5,800

Eva

"Mom?" I call out shakily, peering around the corner of her pried bedroom door.

There's no response in the darkness, only the sound of her deep snores being the confirmation I need to tell me she's still alive. I've had to check on her every morning since my dad died, praying that she hasn't killed herself from either alcohol consumption, or otherwise.

Thankfully, she's always still there, just not in the same way she used to be. I miss how things were with her in the mornings. Her and my dad would be laughing and talking in the kitchen as breakfast was made, their eyes lingering on the other's in pure adoration. They loved each other more than I've ever seen; even in movies and tv shows. Nothing compared to what they had.

Sometimes when my mom was busy reading something on her phone, or simply gazing out the sliding glass door at the vast backyard, my dad would creep up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. His chin would rest on her shoulder, making her crane her neck back to give him a delicate, lingering kiss as they gently swayed together.

I know it's rare to grow up having two parents being so infatuated with each other, but I was lucky enough to have that. It infuriates me that Harry didn't protect my dad, when it's literally his job to do so. And now I'm supposed to rely on him for protection? Forget it. I don't trust the man with anything, let alone my life.

He took away my dad, practically my mom, and my happiness. I spend my days ignoring him as best as I can, while also reminding him of how much his presence makes me seethe. I'm desperately hoping that the little get-together with my friends tonight will help lift my spirits. Hopefully Harry listens to when I told him to stay the hell away from me tonight.

I haven't seen my friends since my dad's funeral, and I hadn't wanted to until now. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I'll never see him again. I'll never hear his laugh, his jokes, or feel his warm embraces. Part of me still feels like it's just a dream, and that I'll wake from this nightmare any minute. But I never do. The agony reigns supreme over the barren wasteland of my heart.

With a yawn and a stretch, I walk from my mom's room to the kitchen, greeting our chef, Fiona, with a small smile.

"Good morning, Ms. Eva. I'm making eggs benedict," she says sweetly in her Scottish accent. "How would ya like your potatoes on the side?"

"Whatever is easiest for you is good with me," I tell her as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. "Has Harry come down yet?"

"I don't believe I've seen him, dear. Do you need something?"

I shake my head. "Thank you, Fiona."

She nods, her pinned back, fiery orange and gray hair shining in the overhead lights of the kitchen.

My gaze sweeps around the living room, hoping Harry isn't lingering somewhere nearby. I'd like to beat him to the gym for once, but that fucker always seems to be there when I want it. I'm not interested in being in a room with him more than I'm required. Seeing his face always just reminds me that my dad isn't here anymore, and it only causes me more anger and pain.

I pull open the door to our gym, sighing with relief when I see that the lights are still turned off. I quickly flip them on, rushing over to the treadmill as I push in my earbuds.

Finally.

Exercising isn't something that I'm particularly fond of, or even something I do often, but I know I need to. A big part of me does it in fear that I'll meet an early fate like my dad. I'd prefer to have incredible stamina and the potential to survive a dangerous situation, rather than just not work out because it's hard.