Madness ➮ Harry Styles AU

C5

Ebony eyebrows furrowed, neck slack, she answered, "well, that's a good question."

Her eyes trailed the room once before speaking again. Maybe she was thinking about everything, or nothing at all, but I knew for sure I was thinking of her.

"I don't know, I just... perhaps I like the idea of it. You know, something so innocent used for something so deadly."

But that, at least to me, hadn't made the least bit of sense. No matter how I twisted or turned the words in my head, it's meaning just never quite aligned with its letters.

"But..." I started, then trailed off. "But how is a gun innocent at all?"

She laughed lightly. And I just sat there, hearing her laughter ring though the room and in my head, and wondering how on earth she chuckled like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well," she continued, looking down at the carpet, picking snags. "I think everything starts off innocent, even guns. I mean, it is just metal after all."

"It's a weapon."

"That's right," she interjected. "But any weapon is useless without someone behind it, just as useless as a gun with a missing trigger." Her chocolate eyes traced up, up, up, towards mine, seething into them. "Weapons aren't weapons without someone to use them, and they're innocent, completely and utterly innocent, because as soon as that gunshot fires." She paused. "The blood is on your hands, and the weapon, simply a playing piece in your own sick game."

It was all just silent. In all honesty, there wasn't a sentence, wasn't a word I could have possibly thought of to follow up on that. The only thing running through my mind was this pure and awestruck feeling, and I don't know what is was. Perhaps it was wonder, admiration, or maybe even fear, but that was beside the point. The fact is, that it was inviting, nearly intoxicating, and that was something I could only help to dwell on.

"So I wanted it feel scary, but... I kinda also wanted to show that, that you know, it's not the drawing you should be afraid of."

Although, I could barely concentrate on what she was saying, because all I really wanted to do was kiss her.

But she turned away.

"Well," Ashley spoke, looking down. "You drew a butterfly."

"Yeah," I chuckled. "Kinda.. disappointing compared to yours. You know, I probably should have gone first."

She laughed, then we talked about my butterfly, and I told her, that I wanted it to feel free, almost detached from everything that made me feel grounded. 

"What's your butterfly?" Ashley spoke up, her voice soft and curious. 

"What do you mean?"

"What makes you feel free?"

The question took me by surprise, and I was so prepared, so ready to tell her that it was my mom. But I stopped myself. And I guess, I kind of came to the realization that it really wasn't her, because everything about her and her situation made me feel trapped, made me feel immobilized.

"I don't know... I.. well.. maybe it's you." I spoke slow, not really processing my words before they came tumbling out my mouth. "Maybe you're my butterfly."

She stopped her actions, and all that was running through my head was that I should not have said that.

"Is it really?" She was facing me by now, her lips curled up, expression smug.

I should not have said that.

"I-I mean I guess, like why not."

My gaze parted from hers, and I leaned my head onto her lap, too embarrassed to show my face, as she giggled and tangled her fingers in my hair.

"I think I like the sound of that." She said, finally, the sentence spoken like her mind belonged to something else.

And we both just sat there, thinking about butterflies and freedom and each other, and how they all intertwined perfectly like the threads of a noose. And how were all were just weapons,even so, as we wiped the blood off our hands, and onto the machines we created. I didn't believe that, because I was there, and it was perfect, and if obviousness kept me breathing, then so be it.

That's all I seemed to remember as my vision hazed and faded to black gradually; the room steeping into some black-grey pigment.

Ashley then placed a subtle kiss onto the top of my head, whispering something lost between the spaces, something I just couldn't quite make out; her words as lost as I was.

"I wish I knew what you said"  was the only thought aching my mind as it was shutting down to sleep, even though it should have been the least of my concerns.

And maybe I'll ask her another day, what she said to me as I fell asleep in her arms.

Or perhaps I'll never know.

(A/N: I FIRSTLY LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THIS TERRIBLE CHAPTER I MEAN LIKE IT WAS GOING SOMEWHERE AND THEN IT JUST KINDA TURNED OUT THIS WAY IDK OK.

But secondly, merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates, and if not, happy early Kwanza and belated Hanukkah, and if none of those concern you then have a happy day! :)

And since it's the holiday season I just kinda wanted to thank all of you for everything, whether you comment or vote or just read. I'm nearly at 30K reads for this book and I wouldn't be anywhere if it wasn't for you guys, so don't ever forget that I love you all!

And I don't know, but I kinda wanted to give you guys some kind of a Christmas gift, whether it be a question and answer, a one-shot contest, a follow spree, anything really. I'm open for suggestions!

ThANK YOU I LOVE YOU.

P.S. Brace yourself for the next chapters, this book's gonna get weird.

P.P.S. Dedication goes to Reneesance bc anyone who makes a Michelle Obama mixtape deserves this, and much, much more.