WEAK // (Harry Styles)

8

CHAPTER EIGHT

*three years ago*

HARRY

"You have to tell me what's going on," I say with a tired voice. She rubs the stained blood off her knuckles, and I fall back on one of the chairs, feeling dizzy.

"I told you to stay in the car," she shrugs and pats the handle of the sink to stop the steady stream of water. She turns around and puts her hand on my jaw. I should push her away, and demand some answers but she makes me so weak.

"If I had done that, you would be dead," I whisper as she leans into my ear, kissing my earlobe. I notice a crack in my voice and a sting in the corner of my eye. She could've died.

"Please. Those dummies couldn't kill a roach if they tried."

"What's in the cooler?" I gather all of my courage to ask the question, staring at the box in the corner of the kitchen. She sighs, glancing back and forth between it and me.

"Are you sure you really want to know?" she says with a seducing glare and picks the box up, making it look heavy. She slams it on the table next to me and sits down on my lap. Her black hair grazes my upper arm as she gets closer, and she opens the lid.

"Now, you won't tell anyone, right? You do as I say," she mutters, her eyes turning stern and serious for a moment. I don't like them that way, so I nod quickly. Her wild, limitless eyes return, and I exhale.

She slides that white plastic lid off, and for a few seconds, I can't quite understand what's underneath. Two cube containers hold dozens of small vials, all printed with the letter S. What is that stuff? She closes the lid and turns my face towards her.

"Happy now?"

"What is th-"

"Shhh, no more questions. That's all you're gonna get for now," she whispers, putting her slender finger on my lips. She replaces it with her own, and her grip on my neck tightens. I completely sink into her, my muscles tingling, my soul desperate for her approval. If she says no more questions, I'll never ask another.

"Take me to bed," she mumbles sharply into my ear, and I lift her off the floor within seconds. I walk through the musty living room to the bedroom, where I place her neatly down on the mattress. "Now take off my clothes," she instructs, every command causing more blood to rush to my thighs.

"Ugh, don't be so gentle Harry. Rip them off," she groans, arching her back. Hesitantly, I grab ahold of her blouse, pulling until a rift causes it to split in half. She laughs, her eyes wide with sudden lust for me. She does the same, the buttons of my shirt soon scattered on the floor.

"Now..." she starts, backing away from me so her feet touch the edge of the bed. "Please me," she breathes and falls back.

Sweetness, if you let me, I'll try forever.

•

My life has pretty much taken a pause ever since I met her. I haven't been to the studio, I told the group that tour is off the table and I haven't talked much with anyone except for her. She likes it that way and so I do too. It doesn't feel like a pause, though. It feels like I've finally pushed the play button. Every single second with her is invigorating.

I've been alone in her apartment for the last few hours, and there isn't much to do here. Every wall is moist and moldy, and the stench is unbearable at times. I can't fathom why she wants to live here. I've told her that I can rent a better apartment for us, but she refuses. This place is important to her somehow.