The Boy Wore Black || Harry Styles

The Boy Wore Black - Chapter 10

The flat was dark when we entered inside, the curtains were drawn and the smell of men's cologne hung in the air. It was the same scent I smelled on Harry in the SUV, and as we'd taken the stairs, so I highly suspected it was at his doing.

It was cleaner than it'd been last time, the empty water bottles, soda cans, and junk food bags having been picked up, and I wondered if that was Harry as well or if Louis had done the picking up.

I hadn't seen any of the other band members around so I suspected they had places of their own. Perhaps management had taken a divide and conquer attitude. Divide the boys up within the city and effectively elude the adoring fans. Who knows? I wasn't the resident expert on celebrities, and I doubted the person who was would want to discuss tactical management decisions at the moment. Hell, he didn't look like he really wanted to discuss anything.

He stood by the door, quiet and broody like, as he took off the hat and glasses and tossed them on a small table in the entryway. Had it not been for the fact that he'd purposefully brought me here, I would've bid him goodbye from the awkwardness alone.

"Would you like some water?" he questioned, locking the door as he moved away from it. The action should have set off warning bells, and usually would have, but this was Harry. He wasn't anything to be afraid of. At least, I didn't think he was.

"No," I replied, walking further into the living room and sitting down my bags. "Thank you for offering, though."

He shrugged and walked toward the kitchen anyway, the tattoos he wore on his arms darkly contrasting with the otherwise lightness of his skin. Even in the dark they stood out visibly, a dead-giveaway to who he was.

He flipped on the light and I quickly noticed that the sack I'd brought to him the night before was sitting on the bar. He walked toward it, taking it in his hands with a silent determination that had me fearful of his thoughts.

"What was this?" he questioned, his voice low as he stared at me from across the room. His body language put me on the defensive, my mind running over the possibility that he'd taken offense to me bringing him soup. Surely not.

"Soup," I answered simply.

"I know what it was," he replied. "What I meant was why did you bring it? What was the purpose?"

"For you to eat." What other purpose would there be for soup? You ate it, it filled you up, and you felt better. There was no grey area.

He rolled his eyes and moved in my direction, his lip between his teeth as if he was biting down some sort of sarcastic remark. "You only brought it for me to eat? You're sure there wasn't any other motives?"

I sighed, registering the question with the suspicions that had already started to run through my mind. It was meant with the best intentions, but perhaps he'd seen it differently. "I was only trying to help," I answered. "I didn't mean any harm by it, and Louis seemed to think that you needed food. What better food when you're sick than soup?"

"Why didn't you bring it in?" he countered, his brows lifting curiously. What was this, twenty questions? "If you were here then it would make sense for you to just come in. You obviously know where to find me."

Yes, but I didn't know what I'd find.

"Because I reconsidered just before I knocked," I replied ruefully, choosing to be sincere rather than abrasive. If one of us were going to stay levelheaded, it would clearly have to be me. "I figured since I had already disturbed one person's night, I would avoid disturbing yours. Your neighbor is quite lovely, by the way."