Brutality | Harry Styles

Chapter 5

Melody didn't want to get too comfortable, but she had been writing a lot in the two weeks since she had spoken to Harry. She had cranked out two assignments and an overdue essay. She had even begun a short story about a brooding streetfighter. Perhaps she would turn it into her final project.

The inspiration that Harry and the north side had brought Melody was the ultimate reason why she decided to trek across town. It was late, nearing ten o'clock, but she decided that even just speaking to Harry would be worth the journey. Even Bea's pleas of "don't be stupid, Mel" couldn't stop her from slipping out the front door.

The walk to the north side seemed much shorter than usual, for some reason. When she reached the road on which stood the warehouse and Brute's, she finally observed that it was titled Hark Street. She also found people straggling off to the edges of the pavement and realized that the match had already ended.

Melody picked her way down the street, strategically avoiding the small gatherings of people until she was bathed in the neon lights of Brute's. Through the window, it looked just as busy as that first time she was here. When she pushed through the door, it was also just as loud. The dance floor was packed. Melody watched an alarming number of arms flailing through the air as too many drunk people tried to move in their limited space.

If only took a moment of scanning for Melody to find Harry. He was sat at the bar, hood pulled up over his head and fingers wrapped around a glass of liquor. The seats on either side of him were vacant and no one seemed inclined to bother him. Melody, however, intended to do just that.

Crossing the room, she slid into the seat to Harry's left. He turned his head just enough to get a glimpse of her face and then sighed irritatedly.

"Happy to see me, huh?"

"'Ve asked yeh nicely t'leave me alone," he said, sipping at his whiskey and setting the glass down rather hard. "Why can' yeh seem t'do tha'?"

"I just wanna talk. I'm curious. We can catch up, you know, like normal, personable people do."

Josie appeared in front of Melody and grinned, glancing briefly at Harry. "What can I get you?" she asked Melody. "A Shirley Temple?"

"That would be nice," Melody agreed with a nod. She hadn't missed the joking tone of Josie's voice, but she figured that if she was going to sit at the bar, she might as well order a drink.

"Decided against alcohol, then?" Harry asked patronizingly.

Melody ignored his question, laying her hands atop the counter.

"Why do you fight?" she asked.

Harry grunted. He shifted uncomfortably on his stool and let go of his glass, reaching beneath his hood to scratch at his neck. Melody saw a dark, purplish spot on his cheekbone, so painful-looking that she had to divert her eyes.

"'F I answer your questions, will yeh leave me alone?"

Melody let a laugh slip through her lips. "Maybe," she said.

Josie returned, placing a fizzing, reddish drink down in front of Melody. "So, he speaks, huh?"

Harry lifted his head just enough to glare at Josie, who promptly turned on her heel to retreat. She had seen enough of the injuries that he'd inflicted to know he wasn't kind when he was angry.

"You're a boxer," Melody began again. "Why?"

"Already explained tha' one, didn' I?"

"Actually, no, you didn't." Melody sipped at her drink and found that it was actually not the worst that she'd had. She stirred it with her straw as she waited for Harry to speak again.