Broken Misery (H.Styles Fanfic)

The Fucking House

A chapter in their lives…

“How does it feel to finally be home for more than forty-eight hours?”

Harry stretches his arms and legs on the sofa, letting gout a loud, satisfactory moan as he does so. “Kind of miss the US already,” he admits shamelessly, scratching his neck. “I miss the weather.”

Almost every day, he would send me a selfie of him outdoors, either wearing a toothy smile if it was sunny, or a frown if the weather resembled the UK. Most photos were of him being happy, even though the captions usually included a little, ‘I miss you’.

“We’re going back in less than three weeks,” I reassure. “Hopefully the weather won’t have gone bad since you left, because I genuinely think that I’ve developed an allergy to the sun since I’ve been here and I can’t stay this pale forever.”

He grins at me as I place my feet on his lap. “You’re excited to see the house?”

The fucking house.

I’ve seen pictures of the damn house he’s been bragging about since the day he first mentioned it to me; a massive house in Beverly Hills with a pool has big as the Pacific Ocean. I told him it was too big, that we didn’t need this much space, but when has Harry ever listened to me?

He never did, so we’re keeping the fucking house. I let out a long sigh and he nudges my feet with his thighs. “I can afford it, El. Why are you always so worried?”

“Oh. I’m not worried about the money, Haz. I’ve seen your savings and band accounts, it’s very clear to me that you can afford pretty much anything on this planet.” He smirks. “We just don’t need that god damn house, or the motorcycle, or the Mercedez, or the Porsche, or the–”

“Jesus Christ, Elena,” he hisses, pushing my feet from his lap to stand up dramatically. He’s still completely naked from round one earlier, but I roll my eyes at him not even impressed anymore. “We don’t need them but it’s still fun to have them. When we have the money, why not get some useless shit once in a while? Jesus.”

This conversation is really getting to him. I sink lower in the cushiony sofa as my face grows red in embarrassment while his reddens with anger. “It’s just too much, Harry. And you’re always paying for everything.”

“Because you don’t have a job!”

I frown at his accusation. I had a job for a couple of weeks after he left for tour, I was hired in a little boutique, but Harry had me quit so I could follow him in a few places and focus on my studies. The only reason why I actually agreed to quit was because the girls at the shop knew who I was and they were always nagging me about dating “the little kid from that gay boyband”. I kept giving CVs but May usually is a slow month everywhere. 

So the fact that Harry dares to throw this at me has my nostrils flaring. “And whose fault is that, Harry?” I spit at him. “You want me to have a job? Sure, let me cancel our summer plans, our nights together, my good grades, and you know what? While I’m at it, let’s just break up to make things easier.”

“Fucking hell, Elena,” he growls, grabbing my wrist as I make a move to get up from the couch. “I don’t fucking care that you don’t have a job. I don’t want you to have one.”

With a strong pull, I manage to make him drop my hand. “It sure as hell didn’t sound this way a minute ago. If you wanted me to get a job, all you had to do was say it. You know I hate to take advantage of all that money of yours, even if you fucking throw it in my face every minute.”

Harry inhales deeply, face red and fuming. All those anger management techniques Isabel gave him are clearly doing nothing at the moment, but I’m too mad to even bother telling him to breathe. “I’m happy to pay for everything, especially if it means that you’ll stay with me. Fuck, why do girls have to be so fucking difficult!”