these bountiful silences

xxiii. express

"All I wanted to do was learn more about this world that we live in."

xxiii. express

Harry takes a steadying breath, tucking his scribe under his arm and schooling his expression to one of innocence. Simon Cowell is sat behind a monstrous, glass desk, fingers steepled together elegantly and his posture paired with the assessing look he's gliding over Harry's face all too commandeering. There has been a choking silence stretching across the room ever since Harry crossed the threshold of the Superior's office, and it's nerve-racking.

"You confuse me, Styles." Is what Simon decides to break the heavy pause with.

Harry opens his mouth to ask the obvious how, but Simon cuts him off with a single upraised hand. He arches his left eyebrow, like he's waiting to see if Harry will actually try to interrupt his crafted monologue.

"You confuse me because your actions never add up. During the day we see you acting like a good Citizen, following all orders and even your meal and sleep plan perfectly. But then, we receive footage of you helping a renowned Unconformist and mass murderer out of his holding cell."

Harry winces at that, clenching his fist and swallowing nervously. Simon's mouth tilts upwards into a ghost of a smirk.

"Surely you can see how you're an endless mystery to us at The Movement, Mr. Styles. It's almost like you don't even want to be a high ranking Superior."

"I do," Harry interjects before his mind can even think to stop himself.

"Do you really?" Simon leans forward in his white office chair. "Because I gave you an assignment months ago and you haven't even began to convert Louis Tomlinson to be a part of The Movement. We're doubting your faith in us, Styles."

"I'm trying but I just don't know how. You do realize that The Movement killed his sister?"

"Oh right, forgive me. I forgot that his rebellious sister was killed by The Movement. That changes everything!" Simon rolls his eyes openly. "It's not like Tomlinson didn't have a hand in killing over a thousand people that were mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters."

Harry stares down at his feet, feeling properly berated. Simon was right, Harry shouldn't defend Louis just on the account of the tragic loss of his sister. It's just. Realizing that Louis lost someone he loves to The Movement, too, makes Harry feel... closer, in a sense, to him. Like there's actually someone out there that has the same gaping hole in their chest from someone in their life that left much too early. It's odd and probably doesn't make sense, but ever since Louis' confession, Harry's been able to look into the steely blue of his eyes and find something relatable hidden there.

"Your punishment," Simon drags Harry out of his reverie with the low timber of his voice. "Is a decrease in both your meal size and sleep amount. We will return you to a normal level when you've proved your loyalty fully lies with us."

Harry inhales sharply, sparing a quick thought to how his stomach is already practically concave from sparse meal plan, and how he feels dead on his feet from the amount of sleep the alarms embedded in his flat are allowing him. But he nods, nonetheless. There's nothing he can do or say to change it.

"Very well, then. Have our little chat serve as a reminder to you that The Movement expects your wholehearted loyalty, and that we will accept nothing less."

Harry leaves Simon's office with what feels like an iron fist clenched around his heart.

;;

Harry tilts his head backwards, staring upwards towards the sun while a soft breeze press a few stray curls against his cheek. The heat is oddly sweltering today, and his shift guarding the doors of the Main HQ building has been near torture. It's usually bad enough to watch people walk past him nervously like he's something to be afraid of. But the skittish citizens mixed with the choking heat and his 'chat' with Simon earlier has made today borderline unbearable.