Damaged Goods. (A Harry Styles Fanic)

Chapter Twenty

After class had ended, the bell had never sounded so heavenly. Lola packed up all her books and stationary within five seconds and shoved it into her bag. She pulled a lightweight jacket over her and rushed to the door, in need of some fresh air.

The corridors were packed as students travelled to their next class, their voices merging together to create a low droning sound throughout the halls. Lola squeezed past everyone, heading towards the double doors, sunlight bursting through them begging for Lola to come outside.

“Lola!” a familiar voice called after her. “Lola wait”

Lola turned around to see Harry jogging to catch up with her, panting slightly. His curls were dishevelled after his power nap and he shook them in his hands, sweeping them to the left.

“Look…” he started, swallowing as his plump pink lips formed a straight line “It was decent of you to help me out before and stuff, but I just wanna tell you that…well..”

Lola raised her eyebrows, hoping for something good to come out his mouth. He hadn’t shown much anger towards her since his Dad passed away, and the help and comfort she provided, or tried to provide. Lola felt like his death had bought out a new side of Harry, one that is more appreciative and less aggressive. Like he’d come to some realisations.

“I don’t need your pity anymore”

Lola’s hopes dropped and she frowned in confusion, seeing Harrys face stay still. He looked at her blankly, not showing any signs of remorse or any attempt to make that sound less rude. Lola looked down at her feet, feeling unappreciated and uncared for. She made an effort to help Harry out, and this is how he responds?

“Things should…just, go back to how they were before”

“What? Why? Even though we were almost getting alo-“

“No it works better this way okay?” Harry stated firmly, his voice stern and authoritive “And besides, it’s not like we were ever gonna be ‘friends’ anyway”

Lola felt like an idiot for previously thinking Harry might have changed his ways. Why did he always have to be her enemy? Didn’t it please him to get along with Lola like it pleased her? Or did he despise her that much, that he couldn’t stand spending time with her the way he had been after his Dad died?

She knew Harry was reluctant to accept comfort from Lola in the first place. When he asked for a hug, it was purely out of sorrow and loneliness wracking his feelings, rather than seeking her out to have her particularly cuddled into his chest. He just needed someone; anyone, at that time of grief. And she just so happened to be there.

But she felt like if Harry was willing to ask his arch enemy for comfort, he must have been desperate. And if he was rejecting her from now on, what else was he supposed to do? He didn’t want anyone, and she knew what that felt like. She knew what she turned to, and what Harry would also turn to. The method of self harm that gave him so much relief from the painful reality of the outside world.

“I know you’re going through a rough time” Lola spoke, using her hands as gestures as she spoke “And even though as you say, we are never gonna be friends, I still hope you won’t cut yourself”

Harry slipped his thumbs under the black straps of his backpack, the tip of his tongue poking into his cheek. He adjusted the bands on his wrist and looked at Lola

“Can’t promise anything” he shrugged, before spinning on his foot and walking away in the opposite direction.

**

Two days later it was Friday, and Lola was looking forward to spending it in. She was originally planning to see Zayn, as she’d seen less of him lately but cancelled on him. She was bloated, her hair was damp and tangly and she couldn’t be bothered to make herself look better to impress anyone tonight. She just wanted to relax.