"Wow, this is your apartment?" I gasp at the modern and extremely expensive looking penthouse at the top of one of more popular skyscrapers in London.
Harry shurgs and watches a worker carry our bags into the apartment. "I guess so. This is my first time here, so don't ask me where anything is. We should look around a bit." he suggests.
I nod and almost start skipping towards one of the rooms. The first room on the left happens to be the master bedroom with a massive bed in the middle of it, and the entire wall in front of it made of glass, giving an amazing view of London.
"Wow." I whisper as I approach it, already planning to put a bench somewhere next to it.
"Coach told me that we'll be staying here while I have tournaments or some shit like that, but our home will be somewhere more remote and more private." Harry tells me, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
He seems worried or anxious about something and it's bothering me.
"Are you okay?" I ask him and he gives me a weird look.
"Yeah, why?" he says, but I can visibly see his hands slightly trembling.
Is he keeping a secret from me?
He wouldn't, right?
"Are you hiding something from me?" I ask in a quieter tone and he awkwardly chuckles.
"No, are you crazy?" he says and I immediately know he's lying.
"Harry, don't lie to me, please." I ask him and he frowns.
"I'm not lying, would you stop?" he persists and I roll my eyes.
"Then what is it? Something must be wrong."
He sighs and throws his arms in the air. "What the fuck are you even on about? Did you lose your fucking brain or something? I'm okay!" he shouts at me and I feel a stab in my chest.
"I'm sorry I want us to be honest with each other!" I shout back at him and his brows furrow in anger.
"This better be pregnancy speaking and not you because I won't have such a dumb fucking girlfriend that she doesn't understand a simple fucking phrase 'I'm okay'." he says with his low angry voice and I feel like crying.
"Well then find yourself a new one if I'm too stupid for you!" I shout back at him, tears pooling in my eyes.
Why is he being such an asshole?
"Maybe I should." he narrows his eyes and I can't believe what I'm hearing.
"What is wrong with you?" I whisper a question and I storm out of the apartment, taking the steps as quickly as possible to get away from him.
I don't understand what I did or said to have him act this way towards me, I just want this to work because I really live him, and in order for a relationship to work we need to comunicate.
However, as soon as I try to break his sky high wall, he pushes back with a force three times larger and hurts me more than a shotgun wound would.
I just wish that for just this once, he would try to let me in.
In my distressed state, I forget to look both ways before crossing the road, and so the last thing I see are two bright white car lights, coming toward me way too fast not to hit me, despite the loud sound of brakes.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
I must be the biggest fucking asshole in the whole planet.
I knew this would happen. I can't keep secrets for shit and I get really fucking defensive when they're close to finding out the truth. The problem is, however, that my defence are insults.
I need to go after her.
I stop pulling at my hair, and start heading towards the elevators, then wait till it stops at the ground floor.
And then it happens.
I actually hear it before I see it, or maybe I sense it, I don't actually give a fuck.
A sick feeling overcomes me, it spreads through my entire body and the urge to vomit only magnitizes when I hear people shouting as loud as they can.
I move as fast as I can towards the entry to the hotel, and see people crowding around something that can't possibly be anything fucking good.
Please god, please let my Sophie be okay. I pray, but the praying stops at the sight that spreads in front of me as I push the people away.
It's indescribable how I feel, mostly because I actually can't feel shit.
It's like I left my body and turned into somebody else, just watching a pathetic man in his twenties with brown curly hair fall to his knees, crying, no not fucking crying, wailing would be a better word.
Wailing and holding on to the small, unconcious girl, bleeding from about a hundred places on her body, laying in a puddle of her own blood.
I don't feel shit because the guy that I'm watching feels it all, and it's never good to feel it all.
At least not this way.
End of book 2, see you in Endlessly his!
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