Broken Misery (H.Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 40

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-Katexx

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Chapter 40

Harry spent the night in the other room. I heard him quietly walk into the house late at night as I was doing homework, but I turned off the light in the room when he reached the top of the stairs. Probably thinking I was fast asleep, he went to the other room and closed the door behind him, so I took the liberty to turn the light on again and continue my coursework quietly.

However, when I get up this morning, his bedroom door is wide open and his bed is empty. I pop my head inside thinking that he might be in the bathroom, but I find it empty as well.

Saturday is his day off, and considering that in now six days he'll be leaving, today is basically his last Saturday off, but he's nowhere to be found. So after using the bathroom in my own room, I send him a quick text message asking him where he is.

So when he finally replies that he's in the basement, I make myself some Nutella toasts and bring my plate downstairs with me. I find Harry in the gym wearing only shorts and bright orange sneakers, sweaty and running on the treadmill. He doesn't slow down when he sees me walking in the room, so I take a seat and watch the sweat leak from his forehead as he keeps a steady pace. His only acknowledgement is the fact that he removes one earbud from his ears.

"How's the anger management going?" I ask when he finally slows down to a speed walk. His uneven breathing and panting leads me to believe that he's been on the machine for a while now, because his endurance is usually high.

Harry runs a towel over his face and pants heavily to catch his breath. "I'll get there," he admits, shaking his hair like a wet dog.

The machine halts to a stop and he jumps off on the floor, stretching his arms as he walks to where he left his water bottle on the floor by the weight holder. I pretzel my legs up as I sit on the bench-press bench, and wait until he's gulped a few swigs down to speak up. "So working out is your way of getting all the anger out," I say matter-of-factly, waiting for some kind of confirmation.

He nods slowly, closing his eyes and wiping the sweat one more time, lowering the towel from his face to his chest. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you, so am I," I smile. "Next time, instead of screaming, use your words, will you? We talked about this."

He swallows visibly. "I told you it'd be hard," he mutters with a frown. "You can't expect me to change overnight, but I'm trying."

"I didn't ask you to change, babe. I love you," I tell him sincerely, uncrossing my legs and tapping on the bench in order to get him to sit by my side. Instead, he shakes his head and picks up the boxing gloves from the small hook they'd been holding from. "I know you're trying, and we'll do it together, but please try a little more when we're in public."

For the second time, his Adam's apple bobs up and down dramatically. "Everyone takes your side already. I got shit last night for what I did."

"From who?"

He gives a slow, full body shrug. "Everyone. 'Said I don't deserve you, so when they left the pub to go to Grimmy's I went to the bar to get drunk, but then I couldn't really drink 'cause I knew you'd get mad. Basically I spent the night sitting in a bar with a bottle of water. If that ain't embarrassing..."

Once his gloves are properly fastened, he delivers a couple of strong punches to the punching bag. I watch him gaze emptily at the massive black bag, calculating every punch he sends as if he was trying to hurt a person, not kill them. Hopefully it isn't his face that he sees instead of the bag; it would break my heart to see him hurt himself even more.