Similar Differences (Harry Styles Fanfiction) (CURRENTLY EDITING)

Chapter 39

Bethany's POV

My mother woke me gently when we arrived at my house. I got out of the car with a tired groan and helped Liam inside. Carefully, I led him over to the couch and he laid down.

"Do you want a pillow or something?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

Once again, he said nothing, but just nodded. I sat down next to him, knowing something wasn't right. "Do you wanna talk about it?" I began. He gave me a questioning look. "I know you're upset about your parents."

He looked away. "I'm just tired of it. I try so hard to get them to care, but I just have to accept that they'll never be what I need them to be." he said in a defeated tone.

"I know. And it's not fair." I agreed. "I know it doesn't make everything better, but you've always got us." I said with a small smile.

"And I'm so grateful for that. Thank you, B." he said. I pulled him into a hug, and then left him alone to get some rest.

Harry's POV

"Harry. Come out of your room." Zayn attempted. What did he think I was going to say? "Oh, okay, since you asked nicely..."

If he actually assumed that would happen, he was out of his mind.

Since Bethany left, I hadn't left my room or made any attempt to talk to Zayn and he'd been trying with me for hours. I was fine at this point, but I just didn't want to talk. He tried pounding on the door for a while, but now he was just sitting out there, calling my name.

I blocked out his calls and stared blankly at the ceiling. Then, I reached across my bed and picked up a random book from my bookshelf.

Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen. I'd read it about 8 times already. Just about every book on that shelf had been read multiple times throughout the years.

Almost all of the books I owned, I had bought at the little bookstore that was close to my house. When I was around 8 years old, we we moved into this area, and from my old family home, it took me about a half hour to walk there. But, that didn't bother me. I made the trip very often.

When my mum and I moved into the U.S., Robin was still staying in England. He didn't come here until I was 11, but he didn't actually move in with us for another year or so. So, while he was in England, he'd send me pity money and I spent it all on books.

If I didn't have any money at the time, I used to go to the shop anyway to talk to the owner, Sal. I'd tell him about my life, and I actually used to open up with him a lot. He was pretty smart, too. He had an answer to everything.

He used to have me help him organize things and clean the shelves and stuff. I didn't mind it, it was better than sitting at home or hanging out with some fake-friends. It made me feel like someone needed me around.

I wondered if he still owned that store, or if he was even alive. He was pretty old the last time I saw him. I hadn't gone there for a year or two, which was funny because part of the reason I chose to rent out this house as opposed to some others was because of its proximity to Sal's. I guess I had gotten caught up in school and all this other shit. I couldn't believe how all the events of these past few months had made me forget about him entirely. I actually felt a bit guilty about it.

'Harry?' You may ask. 'Feeling guilty?'

I know, right?

Maybe if Zayn would back the hell up, I could go up there to see Sal.