"I don't need a fucking chaperone."
He spat the words at her suddenly and for no particular reason; his tone vehement and nasty, his body beginning to ache, his head beginning to pound. It had been hours since his last hit and he began to wonder what the hell had possessed him to think he could ever live without it. His need was evident in the pain, the disconcerting feeling within his entire being, the confusion, the annoyance he felt at just existing at the moment. It was hard to remember what had made him want to stop but now he no longer wanted such a foolish thing. Now he wanted nothing to do with the idea of sobriety; not when relief could so easily and quickly be achieved with just another hit.
She took his hand and led him off of the lift as it stopped on the floor of the lawyers offices.
"I didn't need a certain junkie to fall back into my life but hey: Shit happens, you just got to roll with it."
She smiled and rearranged her hand in such a way that her fingers laced with his own. He had never held anyone's hand in a romantic way before and so he looked upon the sight in bewilderment. He felt a tightening and a tingle in his stomach and he considered the fact that it wasn't due to the sickness in his body at the lack of H in his system; this feeling felt good. It also confused him to no end. It took his mind away from the deep and lasting unpleasantness of being in withdrawal.
They walked into the waiting area of the lawyers' office, with its homely and hodgepodge furniture, and sat down in two mismatched arm chairs and looked around hoping someone would come out and speak to them soon. They sat quietly. Robyn slid her hand from Harry's absentmindedly to reach forward for a newspaper. Harry immediately resented the idea and took her hand back, relinking their fingers and furrowing his brow in annoyance, but not once allowing his gaze to wander in her direction. She just glanced at him with a knowing smile and gave his hand a little squeeze before taking the magazine in her other hand.
The lawyers' words were muted and came across as though in slow motion to Harry. He hardly comprehended a thing they said. He stared at them, sitting on the clichéd brown leather sofa in their shared office, holding on to Robyn's hand for dear life.
"So Mr. Styles you see it is imperative for you to testify that Niall was only in the vicinity of this Winston character's murder at your behest." This lawyer was a chubby man with a beer gut, a rather sparse mustache and a pair of blue eyes hidden behind thick black spectacles. He spoke emphatically, and forcefully, his personality belied his bookish and weak appearance. "Had you not asked him to go there and retrieve your drugs, Niall would not have been there at all. It gives him an alibi of sorts; a reason for being there at such a precarious moment."
Harry nodded slowly, the pain in his joints and extremities and the nausea he felt beginning to overwhelm him. He needed desperately to get on to what he had come there for, the rest was secondary.
"How's about bringing the doctor round to give me a bit of whatever it is you gave the Irish one to ease his mellowing out?"
The lawyer who had been speaking, the one who looked like the mole from The Wind in the Willows as far as Harry could tell, nodded his head vigorously and rushed over to his phone. Harry's stomach gave an odd lurch, a deeply uncomfortable and wholly unnatural one, and he groaned. He doubled over in pain, writhing a bit before resting his head on Robyn's lap and shutting his eyes, bearing down and gritting his teeth against the horrid feeling in his stomach.
"Lie down Harry." She coaxed him into a position where his body stretched out across the couch and his head remained resting on her lap. Though he was hesitant, reluctant to even lean against her, when his head laid against her body he felt better; not physically but mentally. She comforted and eased his mind just by being available. She stroked the hair at his hair line and he breathed deeply. His skin was cold and clammy and his body shook slightly. She glanced at the lawyer who remained seated across from them.
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H. A Harry Styles A.U.Fanfiction
'It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom...