"I don't know anything about who murdered the bloke." Harry stated, standing at the podium and speaking clearly as the room full of solicitors watched him intently. He wasn't nervous; he knew exactly what to say, just enough to clear Niall without incriminating anyone else. "But I was better acquainted with him than Niall was. So I called him and arranged to have him meet me someplace. The life of a drug addict is transient at best; I found myself with another opportunity to score even sooner and I had to take it. I like to think of myself as a man who plans ahead, and two scores are better than one, so I convinced Niall to go to meet Winston whilst I was making other arrangements."
He sat back in his chair and winked at a female barrister, who despite her years on the bench and deep respect for the law blushed and giggled like a school girl at the gesture from the charming witness.
Niall was released and cleared of all charges no less than an hour later. He and Meg invited Harry to join them for a celebratory dinner at 'their' apartment; Harry agreed to attend, but only after going 'home' to see if Robyn wanted to come as well.
She was meant to have been home in time for the trial, and Harry had been worried - until Meg read aloud her text apologizing for missing the hearing and sending her best wishes and prayers. He felt a slight and deeply unpleasant sting at not having received a text of his own, but hid it well as they went about the business of clearing Niall's name.
Now he was back at the apartment, and she was still no where to be seen, and it was mid afternoon and he was wondering what was keeping her.
He sat down on the couch and felt his knee begin to shake, his fingers drummed against the arm of the couch; he felt restless and fidgety. In a word; bored, and he knew boredom was a lethal weapon on him. All it would do was lead to ever escalating and irrevocable trouble.
So he decided to cook dinner, for he was hungry and reasoned that she would be so too after having traveled all day long.
It took no time at all to thaw the chicken cutlets in the microwave, to dip them in an egg wash and then into a spice mixture and then bread them and fry them in olive oil. It was even less difficult to boil water and drop the prepackaged bags of rice into it, and no effort at all really went into popping the steam in bag vegetable medley into the microwave.
All together it took maybe an hour for him to finish, and to his dismay she was still not there, and he had a dinner ready at far too early in the afternoon.
He ate his very late lunch quietly and all alone, and resented not having her there to talk with about the day. He missed her very much, so much so that when the thought occurred to him it didn't frighten him as much as he felt it should have, for he simply couldn't deny that it was the truth. It was impossible not to notice her, he'd noticed her the moment he first saw her; even h couldn't blind him to her. She was too much of good everything he could imagine to be overpowered by h. He would know here anywhere and want her anytime.
He'd never been in love before and therefore did not realize that was what he felt, yet when his phone buzzed on the table his heart gave the oddest of jolts. He reached quickly to grab it and immediately frowned.
It was not her.
It was Mike.
"It's ready." Said the deep voice that Harry automatically knew and immediately loathed. "I'll have Louis meet you with it whenever you say; but my terms still stand."
"I can't talk now. I'll text you a meeting time and place."
He ended the call without waiting for a response; he intended to relish in the last few moments of power he had over Tomlinson, for once he collected the money he was again in debt.
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H. A Harry Styles A.U.Fanfiction
'It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom...