Bree Tyler
I guess I had fallen asleep in the basement. Because when I woke up my head was rested on the cold and uncomfortable flooring.
I looked around me, there was a note? It was handwritten in a black ink pen on a napkin, I took it in my hands and tried the best of my abilities to read what it said.
"Come up to my bedroom." The note read, of course Harry had written it.
I contemplated at first with a scoff and a shake to my head, but before I could decide if I was going to follow through or not, my body had already taken me up the spiral staircase.
I shrugged, since I was already up on the top floor I guess my decision was final. I walked into Harry's room and saw him sprawled out on the floor with a joint held in his lips, it was unlit. He was shirtless, black sweatpants hugged his hips, I could see his v-line, but the rest below that was covered.
"Well, well, well." He smirked.
"What do you want, Styles?" I asked him teasingly, he had told me his full name a few days ago.
"Don't call me that." He huffed, patting the spot next to him for me to come over and lay by him.
Once again, I gave in.
I laid next to him on the tiled floor, rolling my eyes slightly. I was still angry with him, but in this world we can either choose to forget or to forgive, right?
I guess it's a fine line between the two.
"Okay, what is it you really want?" I asked him, just eager to know why he wrote a note on a silly napkin for me to come up here with him in his bedroom.
"Just w-wanted to talk." He slurred, speaking of slurring, I just realized I could smell vodka on him.
"You're drunk, aren't you?" I asked, although the answer was floating through the air that radiated him.
"Maybe..." he stretched out.
"Of course you are." I scoffed.
"Whats that supposed to mean?" He pretended to be offended.
"Nothing." I sighed, "it means nothing."
I looked over at him, realizing that from time to time he's a real piece of shit, and a killer; also some other things I most likely didn't know about. But other than that, he seemed pretty okay. He just seemed like a guy, unproblematically lying down on the floor of his bedroom with an unlit joint in his lips. But knowing Harry, he'll probably start to become aggressive soon. Maybe it was the alcohol that calmed him down.
"You know.." he started.
This can't be good.
"It's been just you and me for four months now." He finished.
"No, Niall has came over." I truthfully argued his statement.
"I forgot about that," he realized, "but for the most part, it's been just the two of us."
Okay? What exactly was he getting at?
"Whats your point?" I asked, not meaning to come off as aggressive as I sounded.
"Shit." He muttered almost as if he started a conversation he couldn't finish, "I don't know my point. Just thought I would tell you that." He corrected.
"Something deep inside me tells me that you're hiding something." I stated.
"Well, of course I'm hiding something. Who would I be if I wasn't?" He argued back.
"You're unbelievable." I scoffed.
He looked over at me with a smug feature, the joint dangled between his plump lips. He slowly blinked his eyes closed, opening them once more to meet mine.
Emerald green and caramel brown, two completely different colors, they didn't even line up together on the color wheel. Yet, they always seemed locked together; like a magnetic force that kept pulling and wouldn't stop until a strong force was used so the magnet would just shatter making the forcefulness break.
"Now be the helpful lady you are and light this joint for me?" He asked, although I had no choice for either answer I would say.
"Sure." I swallowed the lump in my throat with a smile as he handed me the black lighter with a blue teardrop on it.
As I flicked it on and went to light the joint that hung between his lips, I asked "so when will the day come when you tell me what this teardrop means?" Curiosity being my biggest emotion currently.
"The day I show a true and genuine smile, so the answer to your question would be never." He responded, at least he was being honest. I changed the subject since I was getting no where with this.
"Okay, next question, why-"
"You ask a lot of questions, don't you?" Harry cut me off.
"Harry, I've literally have had no one to talk to besides you, and on the rare occasion Niall; just let me have a normal civilized conversation, will you?" I sharply responded back.
"Proceed." He lectured, his broad shoulders slightly shrugging.
"Why do you always lay on the hard tile, when you have a perfectly good bed right there?" I pointed towards his full sized bed that had black comforters. It looked like a pillow of
softness.
"Good question." He responded.
"Okay?" I waited for him to carry on his response.
"What? Did you want me to give you a reason?" He scoffed.
"Nevermind." I rolled my eyes, flipping over to face away from him. He won't even have a normal conversation, so what was the point in trying to converse with him?
But deep down, he wasn't normal. And I had my suspicions that I wasn't normal either. But then again, we're both just fucked up people, right? Or, we were simply more interesting than the rest.
I felt Harry's hands snake up my back and up to my shoulders, "you're tense..." he sighed, rubbing them to release stress that was bottled in me. I didn't want him to touch me, but at the same time I really wanted him too?
"Harry-" I strained slightly in frustration.
"It's okay." I felt him smirk against my neck, "you're mad. Theres a fire inside of you that is growing and spreading that you so desperately need to release. I get it." He almost quoted my exact thoughts.
I heavily sighed, as I turned around to face him, his arms dropping off my shoulders as I did so. A smirk grew on his face that was wider than the fire growth in me.
"Stop." I breathed out.
"Stop what exactly?" He asked with a shit eating smirk, taking the joint between his two fingers.
"You know what-" I said out of major frustration, "you only ever talk to me if touching me or teasing me is included."
"What can I say?" He puffed the air out, "I warned you."
"I just didn't want to believe you. Believe that you just use people, it's seriously messed up,
Harry." I felt my eyes water up as I spoke, but I held them down to remain stronger. I wasn't going to let him get under my skin, not Harry. He was certainly not worthy of my tears.
"Thats cute." He smirked manically.
"You're toxic." I said, "just poison." I shielded my eyes downwards rather than looking at him, "I seriously can't believe I kissed someone like you."
"Yet, you keep coming back for more." He sighed.
"Yet, you initiate it." I mocked him, standing up from the tile I laid next to him on, he looked back at me, as I was leaving his bedroom with a slam to the door.
God damnit he gets under my skin.
My whole purpose when I found out that he was suicidal was to try and help him get better, but he won't even talk to me.
I need to stop chasing after Harry. He doesn't deserve to touch me, kiss me, than never talk to me about anything. He only wants me when it's physical.
But sadly again, he was right.
He did warn me after all that night at the club.
I'll listen to him from now on.
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A/N: I'm sorry this chapter was super short. I just got fake nails and it is so hard to type. But I'll get used to them, eventually.
I seriously can't believe I passed 250 reads, blows my mind.