WEAK // (Harry Styles)

1

CHAPTER 1

HARRY

I slide my finger down the middle of her stomach, tracing beautiful patterns. I stop at her scar, frowning heavily at it. I look up at her, and she is still sound asleep. I press the tip of my index-finger against it, wishing for it to be gone once I lift it. But it is still there.

It's strange how a gunshot leaves such a small scar. But even though it's small and nearly unnoticeable, I think about it every day. I turn around and look out the window. The city is dark and cold, small fragments of snow falling past the glass. I get up from the bed, taking exhausting steps towards the window. Once I lay my flat palms against it, shivers run down my spine.

It vibrates some once a whisk of wind clashes against it, and I take a deep breath. But once I close my eyes, a harrowing memory inhabits my mind.

The wind roars right outside the windows, and vicious silence is yet to be interrupted by her. The marble floor brazes cold against my feet. My body slows down, my muscles failing, my heart desperately jumping, my mind scattering. Minutes go by, and I force myself to realize; She is gone.

I find stable ground again, holding the frame of the window tightly. The floor steadies, the cold tiles causing my feet to freeze.

That was a six months ago, Harry. She was abducted and drugged, abused, assaulted, manipulated, killed, and betrayed. But it was half a year ago, and Zayn is dead, Harry. Zayn is dead, and Claire is safe.

She is here. She's right behind me in bed. I don't have to look.

God, I can hear her breathe. I don't have to look. She is here, right behind me in bed.

My heartbeat accelerates, and I force myself to keep looking at the snow. She is here. I don't have to look.

But after a few seconds, I turn my head and my wide eyes peer at the bed.

I am just as relieved everytime this happens. Every time I get... worried. Afraid. Petrified.

There is no reason to be afraid, I keep telling myself. We can live normally now. Zayn is dead, Niall is out of our lives, and it's been six months. We can go to the movies, to a restaurant and not worry one bit. We can have everything every other couple gets to have. Right?

I shake my head, ridding myself of thoughts. I just want to hold her.

I get back into bed and I hold her close to me, putting her head against my chest. I savor the feeling of her chest rising and sinking; she's breathing. She's alive, she loves me, she isn't in danger.

Right?

•

"You slept late today, it's already 12 PM," she says, grabbing two plates off the shelf. She puts them down on the table, walks over and kisses me. I kiss her back.

"Yeah, I... woke up in the middle of the night, couldn't sleep till' six AM." I sit down opposite her, but she halts. A look of worry spreads on her face, and she squats beside my chair, stroking the hair away from my face.