He was going to be telling me the truth sober.
I let him nap, but I wasn't taking my eyes off of him. I was eyeing him like a hawk, a prominent scowl on my face. I contemplated the idea of making him spill everything now, because being sober he was more likely to tell the truth. But... It didn't feel right.
To not make it any more weird, I went back downstairs and watched tv quietly with my father for the next hour. I wasn't paying attention to the screen as my father laughed continuously throughout the whole movie.
I was so upset.
I didn't know which was worse, the fact that he slept with her, or the fact that he never told me? All I knew was that finding out left a bad aftertaste.
Maybe I'm just not destined for happiness. It seems that things cannot go accordingly to plan without a few hiccups. But it was hiccup after hiccup... after hiccup.
I was lucky that Harry wasn't my only source of happiness, and with time, he could be substituted. An hour and a half had passed, and it made me wonder if Harry was awake yet.
The movie had now finished and I was figuring out what to do. Do I confront him? Or just ignore him until he figures it out himself?
I let out a calm breath as my anxiety was hardly no more, and I could finally stand without my legs shaking. "Dad, I'm gonna go to bed."
"It's only seven," He raised an eyebrow. "What are you gonna do?"
Stare aimlessly at the ceiling and wait for a good day to come, probably.
"Revise for my exams." I lied in a quiet whisper.
I trudged upstairs with a straight face while awaiting a hopefully woke boy who decided to leave my room. But when I walked in, shamelessly and all, he was definitely awake. He was sat on the edge of the bed, leaning desperately forward with his hands in his hair. Almost as if he knew he had done something wrong.
He raised his head, his eyes wide and narrowing onto me in concern. He seemed overwhelmed. "H-Hey."
I crossed my arms and sharply sat on my bed, my body as far as away from his as possible as I leaned against the bed frame. He then stood, his hands pressed together as if praying for my forgiveness. He then sniffled his presumably blocked nose and closed his eyes shut.
"I didn't want you to know-"
"Know what?" I sternly asked.
He let out an anxious breath. "Can I sit down beside you?"
I instantly shook my head. "No."
He backed away, his frame leaning against the wall opposite me. He was full of remorse and regret, I didn't like it because it showed me that he did something wrong.
"There was a reason I never told you." He pleadingly spoke.
"Told me what?" I asked in anger, my eyes growing dark.
"Oh, come on, for God's sake," He breathed, running his hands through his hair and groaning in discomfort. "You know what I'm talking about."
"Tell me, then. Tell me what you're talking about," I deeply said and sharply inhaled. "I want to hear you say it."
He swallowed and stared into an empty space below. He bit his bottom lip, his eyebrows now furrowed as if he was lost in his thoughts. Moments later he raised his head, giving me a gentle shrug. "Mrs Valentine would pay me..."
"God." I whispered and stared awkwardly to my lap, Harry being the last thing I wanted to look at it right now.
He swiftly took a seat on the bed and knelt towards me, his hand reassuringly palming my leg. "Mrs Valentine would pay me, Harley. Once a week, just once a week."
YOU ARE READING
Call Boy. (Harry Styles Fan Fiction) on holdFanfiction
Harley Thomas; an anxiously wrecked Christian who thrives on judging those who sin. Harry Styles; an emotionally wrecked Atheist who thrives on sinning.