the writer // harry styles au

chapter 32

(A/N: this is so tacky, but i attached a picture of suki waterhouse, who i picture as alexis so... yeah. she doesn't have blue eyes irl, but you get the picture.)

Harry

Her eyes are watering. I don't think it's because of me. It's cold outside. Her face looks pale and flushed, red hinting in her cheeks. Her lips are parted, a light pink lipstick on them. She looks like an angel. Watching her in front of me, goosebumps on the bit of forearm showing, eyes watering and a light, frosty blue, it's like looking at my favourite thing ever. It is my favourite thing ever. Just a look at her and I've almost forgotten about Zayn. Almost.

"No way," I whisper. "No way in hell is this happening," I say louder.

Her face drops, and I can't bare to see the broken look anymore than the short seconds I have. I turn to walk to the front desk. I can hear her calling behind me, breathlessly and broken. What I would give to turn around, kiss her mouth, cheeks, neck and just forget; forget all the troubles, all the worries. But I can't - I shouldn't.

"Harry, why are you here? Let me help." She's standing so close to me. I move in closer to the counter, a nurse watching my every move as I ignore Alexis. She gives me this look - raised eyebrows, knowing smirk - then turns in her chair to get up from her desk and walk away.

I don't want to turn around. I'll break even more.

"Harry, turn around. Don't be like you used to be," she says.

How I used to be? I turn around. Fuck, stupid idea. Her eyes have a watering in them, like before, and her cheeks are pale and look so soft. I want to pull my thumb along the creamy skin, hook my fingers under her chin and just kiss her.

"How I used to be?" I repeat to her, questioning.

Her face drops. She doesn't look like she wants to fight, but I sure as hell do. Whether I'm fighting for her or against her, it's something. It's heat, and passion, and connection.

"I don't want to-" She cuts herself off, starting again. "Harry, you used to-"

"Be in love with a make believe character? Make stupid, stubborn, selfish decisions that cost me you." Her line of vision drops to the floor. "Look, right now, I'm being like I used to be because I need to be stupid and not talk to you. I need to get to my friend - who's all alone - and find out what the fuck I need to do, Alexis. Let me be selfish and not care about you for a few hours, because I know for sure that after I know he's okay, you'll come straight back onto my mind."

I turn back to the desk, happy to find a nurse sitting there. She was listening in - there's not doubt about it - but right now I just need to see Zayn. I need to call his family and fix things. He's so close to dead and I'm worried about Alexis. I can't just stand here and worry about petty problems that will never resolve themselves. I've done this before; I've let people slip through my fingers because I wasn't smart enough to clasp them together.

"Hi," I breathe out. It sounds so rasped, breathless and desperate. "I'm Harry Styles, here on behalf of Trisha Malik, here to see Zayn Malik."

The nurse nods. She brings out her chart and turns it around to face me, point at Zayn's name. Room 203. Critical Condition. Drugged.

"Thanks," I hurry out.

I begin running down to the elevator. I can hear the patter of Alexis' feet behind me. She's calling my name; her voice is so broken, so quiet while she yells. I don't want to turn around. I just need to see Zayn and talk to the doctor treating him.

The elevator door opens and I rush in. A man in a wheelchair and a full leg cast is to my left and a couple crying are behind me. Alexis shoves in, and the only place for her is right in front of me, her body pressed to mine. Her body's cold, yet all I feel is heat. I want her heat and mine rubbing together, wherever, whenever. Right now. The man in the wheelchair - maybe 40 odd - looks at me. He smiles, then chuckles to himself. I don't even acknowledge his action until he's speaking up.

"Mate, no need to look so frozen. Give your girl a kiss, hug. Take advantage of it; you never know when it'll all be gone." Alexis had turned her head to look down at the man. She smiles at him. Her eyes are bloodshot - not necessarily from crying, but from the cold air flush on her face.

Her eyes then move from the man and then she peers at me. Her eyes - again- are so blue, and peering through the messy fringe they look so innocent and wide. I would kiss her if she was mine. I could kiss her. Maybe my kiss would turn her to the dark side again, running straight back into my arms. I may just be tricking myself into this, acting stupid and just in love, but she looks like she wants me to kiss her. She has this look on her face, like the first time I really kissed her in the restaurant. She was angry at me, fuming yet had this soft, adorning look on her face that just yelled kiss me.

So I do it. I lower myself on my knees as capture her mouth on mine for seconds, short, amazing seconds. The feel of the cold at my lips is igniting me from the inside out and it's amazing. It's hot and cold, hard and soft. She lets her tongue lighting slip into my mouth, and it's perfect. This sweet kiss. I wrap my arms around her waist, hugging her to my body. She laughs against my lips and it's the best sound I've ever heard. It was muffled and sweet and made me want to just love her even more.

The elevator dings behind us. I don't know whether it's the floor I'm supposed to get off on, and I'm so selfish at the moment. I want to savour Alexis, her company. I should be running to my friend.

But before I can pull away, before my brain selfishly tells my heart to sweep this aside for a while, I hear Alexis' name called out. It's not my voice, it's not Will's.

Alexis turns in my arms and stumbles back slightly when she finds what she's confronted with. She chokes on her words for a moment, clearly taken back. The man standing in front of us is elder. He has grey hair, cut short but still styled. He's wearing light green scrubs and a face mask. Obviously he's a surgeon, but how does Alexis know him?

"Dad," she says. Now I understand her shock. Now it's found it's way to me. It's one thing to see your daughter making out with a guy; it's anything thing to see your engaged daughter making out with a guy.

Before she can run out and plead her case, explain this all to her dad, the doors to the elevator are closing again and we've found our way going up to the next floor.

(A/N: ahhhhh i'm so sorry this was such a late update !! i have exams next week and i am freaking out. anyway, enjoy and don't forget to vote and comment! xxxxx)