Illicit [Harry Styles]

Chapter 64

I was speechless, and slightly horrified. I wanted to ask him to explain everything straight away, but I could tell he was upset.

What did he mean it was his fault? Harry had done a lot of bad things in his lifetime, but I refused to believe murder was one of them. He wouldn't be here today, he'd be locked up for good.

"H-Harry, I'm... sorry," I tried, not knowing what to say. I was never good at things like this.

He shook his head slowly, still looking at his feet. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I assumed the worst. I know I didn't directly say it but I did."

"Anyone would've. Guy has a picture of another girl under his mattress, of course his girlfriend is going to be suspicious. It's not like the first thing that's going to pop into your head would be 'oh, maybe she's just dead and he can't let it go'." His voice was so miserable and I felt like we were crossing over into untouched territory. This was obviously something that haunted Harry, another thing he kept bottled up inside.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. But I owe you an explanation."

"You don't. We don't have to talk about right now it if it's hard for you," I attempted to soothe him, my voice gentle. I was itching to reach out and comfort him but I felt like he wouldn't want me to.

"It's always going to be fuçking hard," he muttered dismally. "I was always going to tell you at some point, I just put it off because..." he trailed off, and I didn't push him for the rest of his answer.

"Take your time," I smiled half-heartedly at him when he glanced up at me briefly.

Harry took a deep breath. He was basically talking to the floor, but I didn't mind. "We were seventeen. She was my girlfriend back in Cheshire - my first proper girlfriend. We were... Everyone knew us. She was-" he stopped himself, a thoughtful and longing look on his face as his eyes met mine.

I smiled reassuringly. I knew he was scared to tell me she meant a lot to him because now I was his girlfriend, and it was kind of something you don't do, but this was so different. Oddly, I wanted to hear about how beautiful he thought she was, or how happy she made him. "Go on, you can say it," I encouraged.

"She was my everything," he breathed out. "No one knew that, because obviously I was still an arsehole even then, and I had an image to maintain. But she was part of that image, she was just as about that life as me, which I think is why it worked. We both knew we cared for each other, but we never showed it in a sentimental way, you know?"

His sad eyes kept only catching mine for seconds at a time, but they were making me equally as heartbroken. They were becoming bloodshot and glassy, regret deep within. I nodded, I did know.

"One night we were at a party, I was blind drunk and having the time of my life, because you know, that's what life is all about," even in the midst of all this woe he still managed to be sarcastic, which made me smile a little bit. "It got late, she - Her name was Amber - she wanted me to take her home. I couldn't even put one foot in front of the other, so obviously I told her no and passed out somewhere in this kid's garden. She was a confident girl, independent, so thinking nothing of it she walked home on her own."

Things started to fall into place before he'd even finished the story; Harry had never liked me going anywhere on my own, especially at night. This must be why, and it explained why he had gone crazy that night at his house when he thought Zayn had purposely sent me out into the dark to look for him. He had been intoxicated as well, which would've only added to the confusion and panic, heightening his emotions and making him dazed.