How I Heal

nineteen

Here's one thing I've noticed about Harry Styles. He's incredibly shy when he gets nervous.

When he gets nervous, he literally becomes this whole other version of himself you never thought possible.

After I asked him about the sight before me, that confidence he normally had melted into quiet tones and crimson splashed cheeks, dew lips whispering, "Well, I guess you could say this is my second version of a safe haven"

Harry brought me to a log cabin.

Now I wasn't sure about what this meant, and I couldn't say I wasn't feeling a million emotions geared towards his behaviour, but my eyes chose instead to widen at the large infrastructure before me. Even if I couldn't tell what any of it meant, it was a beautiful sight. There was a shimmer to the light brown and red finish, and the size of it could take anyone, only looking from the outside, completely off guard.

Harry turned to me and saw the astonishment written on my features, before he shrugged.

"It's bigger on the outside that it is on the inside," he mumbled. He was still using that shy tone. "It's not all that, I swear."

The way he talked led me to wonder if these types of topics made him uncomfortable.

I didn't want to make him apprehensive considering that he was probably nervous about me being here, so I swallowed down any comments that would have seemed crude.

I didn't need to make him regret this decision.

As we later got inside, I realized that Harry was right about it being smaller on the inside.

From where I stood, there was a coffee table haphazardly scattered with many board games, a fireplace before that, minimal amounts of dirty dishes lining the counter top in the kitchen and candles in every possible corner, giving a mixture of an earthy smell and cinnamon.

Staring at the place, it looked like the closest thing to home as it could possibly get.

It was obvious Harry came here a lot.

I stopped dead in my tracks not knowing where to go or what to do and taking care not to overstep, but Harry noticed me not moving and placed a hand around my wrist.

"Come on," he urged me, his strong voice slowly coming back. "I brought you here, don't go all shy on me now."

He dragged me over to the couch before the coffee table.

He then sat down first and pat the seat beside him gently.

I blinked, the surreality of the moment catching me completely off guard.

"Sit," he gently said, to which I sat.

I instinctively reached out to the board games, aligning them neatly before leaning back. I then urged myself to swallow any overthinking tendencies I had at that moment.