Damaged Goods. (A Harry Styles Fanic)

Chapter Nineteen

Harry didn’t say anything, and watched as she found a can of polish and a yellow dust cloth, slowly wiping down the surface of the shelf above the fireplace. It was decorated with ornaments, photo frames and a clock. Lola recognised the middle photograph and Gemma and Harrys school photo from their younger years. Another one showed the whole family, on a holiday. Lola wiped the cloth over it slowly, revealing the content smile on Andy’s face as he had his arm locked around pre adolescent Harry.

There were dozens of mugs and glasses lying around, the dregs of tea and coffee covered in a film of milk after being there for days. They’d obviously had a rough day or two leading up to Andys death, and it showed in the unusual untidyness of the house. Lola gathered them and washed them up in the sink, setting them on the draining board to dry off.

”Where’s your Mum Harry?” Lola called as she walked from the kitchen back to the front room. She felt a little uncomfortable as she realised his tired eyes were locked on her, watching her every move.

“She’s with family right now… grieving” he said, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his thighs “I wanted to stay at home”

Lola put away the cloth and spray and turned round to see Harry sitting forward again. He’d taken a photo frame from the table beside and was holding it in his hands, looking down at it.

Lola stood still for a few silent seconds, watching as long chesnut waves hung down shielding Harrys face as he looked down at this picture. His focus on it was strong despite the fact she couldn’t see his face.

She heard him sniff, quietly cracking the silence and saw a teardrop fall and splash onto the glass protecting the photo.

“Har-“

“He was always so kind to me” Harry cut her off, his deep voice strained and wobbly as he spoke through the painful lump in his throat “Really treated me like his own blood and flesh. Like his biological son”

Lola struggled to listen to the sound of his voice, the pain and grief evident in it. It created a hollow yet heavy feeling in her stomach. She shouldn’t have been affected, after all the time he’d seen and heard her cry the exact same, and never batted an eyelid. But it was natural to. She never enjoyed seeing people cry, and this wasn’t any different despite who it was.

“I always tried to be like him, but in some ways I think I ended up being the opposite and never even realised” Harry inhaled and looked up from the photo, his eyes wet and shiny as the daylight reflected off them from the window. He shifted his jaw slightly, his tongue poking gently into his inner cheek.

He turned his had to Lola, creating another small pang in her stomach as her eyes met his. “You’d agree wouldn’t you?”

Lola shifted uncomfortably in her seat, now avoiding his eye contact as she mentally recalled all the times he’d hurt her. It was almost a daily ritual now to think over these times. She hated reminiscing of those memories. But was Harry right? Had he ended up the opposite to his caring and doting stepfather? Of course he had. He’d behaved awfully. There was no way to sugar coat or attempt to justify his actions.

“You…. may have treated me in some…. very unfair ways” Lola spoke slowly “And my back is still suffering from that.. thanks”

Harry made a feeble attempt to lick and moisten his dry chapped lips and dropped his head down slightly, looking back at the picture frame. He shook his head slightly

“He’d be so ashamed of me”

Lola didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t neither agree or disagree. She didn’t want to make this situaton worse nor did she want to stop him from admitting to where he went wrong. Like a boiling saucepan, it seemed like it was slowly beginning to bubble out over the surface, the confessions and realisations that she’d hoped he’d one day see.