Flicker (H.S)

15.

15.

l u c a s

The least favourite Styles glances at the clock, gnawing on his bottom lip and ignoring the metallic taste of blood on his tongue.

And they watched him.

The gang. They watched him with smirks and sneers and smiles as he glances at the clock, gnawing on his bottom lip and ignoring the metallic taste of blood on his tongue.

Harry was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. And that girl, that goddamn bitch, was supposed to be with him. But here Lucas sat, gnawing on his bottom lip and ignoring the metallic taste of blood on his tongue as the gang watched him with smirks and sneers and smiles.

The red-head in the corner still stared at the floor, as he always did, picking at his nail beds and contemplating the world. It was more than once a meeting that Lucas wonders if he’ll tell Harry who he is- wonders if Harry will figure it out. When he does he will get depressed again. It’s inevitable.

And even though he wanted to, Lucas couldn’t bring himself to care.

They have all smelled like abuse at one time or another.

And even though he wanted to, Lucas couldn’t bring himself to care.

Jameson was pacing at the front of the room, tugging at the hem of his extremely expensive blazer and gritting his teeth together.

“That fucking bitch.” He spit, sneering at the ground. “She thinks she can ruin this for us? Who the hell is she?”

All eyes turn to Luke and his mouth goes dry.

“Um, her name’s Everly Green. Harry hasn’t talked about her before. I don’t know what their relationship is.” He recites. The words scratch up his throat as they leave his lips and he wonders how many more packs of cigarettes it will take until he can’t speak at all.

It can’t be many.

At the thought of the dreadful killing sticks, Luke tugs one out of his skinny jeans pocket and strikes the lighter to light it. The lighter was old and faulty, and it was a very slim chance that it lights up on the first try.

The light flickers, then it goes dark.

“Well, whoever that little slut is, Harry better get her here soon.” Jameson fumed. Almost as if on cue, the door opens and a sweep of cold air rushes into the room, exposing two frozen teenagers looking on the urge of murdering each other.

And, looking at the pair, Luke wasn’t sure who would win.

“Sit.” Jameson commands, and Harry’s head nods as he grips Everly’s wrist and forcefully pulls her to the couch. They sit as far away from each other as the couch will allow.

And for some reason, harry found himself subconsciously moving closer and closer as her sniffles increased.

Tears don’t matter until their rolling down the cheeks of someone you care about.

So why does he feel that pang in his heart when she cries?

 

“Holy fuck, she’s fit.” One of the members whispers into his ear, the man’s hot breath washing over Harry’s face and causing him to internally cringe. “Did you shag her yet?”

The words go in one ear and out the other as the boy with the never-coming-back girlfriend shrugs and conducts all of his attention to the large man at the front, watching him pace like a madman. "Look at those legs. Shit. They would look so good wrapped around my head”