°°
And the clean coming will hurt
And you can never get it spotless
When there's dirt beneath the dirt
The liar takes a lot less
Time to decide on his saunter
Have you got itchy bones
And in all your time alone
Can you hack your mind being riddled
With the wrong memories
°°
Harlow Dean
I appreciate the coffee, I really do but now isn't the time. I just sat in the middle of the kitchen floor crying and I'm not in the right mental state to talk to anyone right now. I don't want to be here myself, never mind with somebody else but I have the feeling Harry won't be leaving.
I like when we only talk in the club, I like having sunday's to myself because by Sunday my sociability has run out so him showing up here unannounced is the definition of my worst nightmare. I like to be prepared, I like to know when people are coming because I hate change and I hate when my routine is knocked off schedule.
He apologised for being a dick, that's something I'd never imagine to fall from those lips of his but I will admit the coffee is the only reason I haven't kicked him out yet.
Right now I'm being betrayed by my own cat, she's warming right up to him instead of attacking him like I'd have hoped. He doesn't strike me as the type of man who talks to cats but willow didn't strike me as the type of cat to betray me like this so I suppose this whole day is full of surprises.
"Nice piano, you should play." Says Harry, standing up from his crouched position he was in talking to Willow.
Wow, suddenly I can't play.
"Oh don't look at me like that birdy, I heard you this morning. Does someone have stage fright?" He teases, nudging me jokingly before pulling out one of the chairs from my table and sitting down beside the piano.
Why does he care? I mean it's a fucking piano, realistically who actually finds it interesting other than people who can play or listen to classical music? He doesn't have to pretend, I wouldn't be offended by his lack of fascination in piano music.
Maybe I should just play him something so he stops asking. He'll get bored and wish he never asked, they all do.
"Fine." I sigh as I sit myself down on the bench.
Harry interrupts me before I even place my fingers on the keys, "Not gonna introduce yourself? Tell me what you're playing?" He smirks.
Well now I'm just gonna play something piss easy because he's being annoying.
"I'm Harlow Dean and this is twinkle twinkle little star," I flash him a sarcastic smile before turning to the piano. "Sing along if you know the words."
I wasn't joking. I am literally playing twinkle twinkle little star to him because I'm not gonna play something I usually do and bore him. He knows this one, he can sing if he so desperately wants to, although I'm not quite sure my ears are prepared for that.
20 seconds and it's over, he can go now.
"Very good. Play something proper now, from that book." Harry says, pointing to the book on the stand. "Let me pick."
He's definitely just trying to annoy me at this point but that doesn't seem to stop me handing him the book anyway. It's not like he can make sense of it, sheet music is complicated and that whole book is french so perhaps that's for my own amusement.
"Right here you go, Emb... Embryons dess- yeah I can't say that." He hangs me back the book looking defeated, I like it.
"Embryons desséchés." I say, mainly for spite, mocking the fact he couldn't pronounce it.
"You're french?" He asks in shock.
Is everyone that can say two french words french? No. I thought this man was smart.
"I can speak it but I'm not french, my grandmother was." I tell him.
French is a beautiful language, I always think it's so elegant and pretty in comparison to the likes of German which I think sounds quite aggressive. The culture in Germany is so fascinating though, I remember visiting Frankfurt as a child at Christmas. It was amazing.
Knowing french and how to play piano are the only two things that make me feel like I'm somewhat interesting and that's for my own sake. When I'm bored I can play piano or watch french television to remind me of my grandmother, it's nostalgic.
All I'm thinking right now is please don't ask me to say something french, that's what everyone says when they find out someone can speak a foreign language.
"Tell me something in french." He exclaims, a little too excited over the matter.
Of course.
Mr 'I'm such a cool and intimidating gang leader' Styles is excited over a person speaking french and playing piano. This man surprises me everyday.
"Je pense que tu es un connard et tu es très déroutant?" I smirk, being sure to make it sound as french as I could for my own amusement.
He's looking at me like I've just read the whole bible backwards in a different language, what I actually said is much different.
"Harlow Dean did you just flirt with me in french?" He exclaims through a smirk.
And this is why I love being able to speak another language. Me flirting with Harry? Not in his wildest dreams... okay maybe but only to wind him up when I'm in the club. What I just said was far from flirting, he just thinks everyone's in love with him.
"I think you are an asshole and you're very confusing." I say, giving a sarcastic smile and instantly turning to play piano to distract myself from the fact I just said that.
I can't see his face because I'm trying to keep my eyes off him and on the keys, however I just know he's acting like those words slapped him in the face. I didn't lie, he's an asshole and confusing as fuck. One minute he hates me and accuses me of wanting to get in his pants, then he's begging me to play him a song on the piano. He's a strange man.
I saw willow hop into Harry's lap whilst I was playing and I've never felt more betrayed. He's a stranger, and a mean one too. She should be biting and scratching him, not cuddling into him. I hope he's allergic, maybe that's why she's all over him, I hope that's why.
I didn't play the whole piece because him staring at me was getting uncomfortable, very uncomfortable. He has such beady eyes, it feels like they're burning two holes in the side of my face.
Once I stop he claps his hands slowly, looking at me impressed. I played piano, not solve world hunger.
"That's really cool birdy, you do that in your free time?" He asks.
"Yeah, what'd you do besides break the law?"
I'm not even sure if I want to know the answer. I mean from what I've gathered so far, he doesn't have the best hobbies or coping mechanisms. I suppose everyone has their own ways of coping with what's going on in their heads and I'm sure everyone has that one thing they do that isn't healthy at all. It's why I don't judge people who do drugs or obsessively drink alcohol as a way of coping, those two activities are frowned upon but people who use other unhealthy coping mechanisms are given help rather than a look of disgust. It's pretty fucked up, it shouldn't be like that.
There's a reason for everything. It's unfair to judge someone else's circumstances without knowing them, and do you ever really know a person?
"Well, the legal things I do when I'm not working are play guitar and sing, I write songs too actually. I read a lot, it gives me inspiration you know? I do drugs too though and I sleep around a lot... that's erm, that's what my free time looks like." Harry explains.
He looks embarrassed, shy even but I'm not sure why. The fact he plays guitar, sings and writes is so interesting to me, I never would've guessed. Perhaps that's where his fascination for me playing piano came from.
I mean for a guy like Harry, those hobbies are pretty wholesome in comparison to his day activities, apart from the drugs and sleeping sound part that is but hey, I'm not judging.
I didn't know what to say, the proud grin he always wears has left and a feeling of guilt was left in my stomach. I don't know why, but I hate seeing people when they're not themselves so I'd feel guilty no matter who was sat in front of me. The joys of being a people pleaser I suppose.
"That's really cool. I mean I didn't expect it but it's cool, it's different." I say reassuringly, cringing the second those words fell from my mouth.
Being nice to Harry isn't as easy as it is with other people, this is extremely difficult and I don't even know what to say.
Harry nods his head slightly, almost like he's agreeing yet doesn't believe my words and lets out a sigh. "I used to play piano but guitar became my strong suit. You're really good though Harlow, that's a real talent you know."
Okay, time to untuck the hair from behind my ears because I can feel my cheeks turning pink.
"Thanks, erm... you like cats then?" I ask as the embarrassment hits me in the face.
Why did I ask that? Where's my bad bitch alter ego?
I think it's time for natural selection to come for me, I'm done with this shit.
"Not normally but I mean, Willows pretty cool." Harry chuckles.
Great, thanks willow.
"Surprised you remember her name." I say quietly, turning my gaze away from him and pushing my glasses back up my nose.
"Got a weird fear of forgetting things," he says, causing my head to turn bsc, to him and give him a confused stare. "Yeah it's a weird one. What's your fears then birdy?"
I do not like how much we're talking today, things are getting very personal.
I mean for all I know he'll fuck off and start being a misogynistic twat the second he leaves. I told him my grandmother was french and I played him piano, that's a lot for me. It's virtually nothing but this constant fear of letting people too close to me has me terrified of telling people the littlest things like what I had for dinner.
It's stupid but I can't help the fact my brains fucked up.
Damn, I said I'd stop belittling my problems...I should've known that wasn't gonna last.
"I'm not telling you." I sigh.
"Well if I guess will you tell me?" Asks Harry hopefully.
No.
"Fine."
Stupid mouth.
"Great, I'll figure it out eventually and-" the sound of his phone ringing takes his words to a pause and he mouths a quick 'sorry' before holding the phone to his ear.
I don't know why he's apologising, the less he talks to me the better.
His face drops and flushes of colour and he stands up to wander away from me because clearly this was a phone call related to the gang. He looked scared but I'm actually intrigued as to what this whole gang thing is like. I mean it looks exciting, dangerous and annoying considering I got my office window smashed, but Harry's job looks so exciting. Other than the fact he hurts people and does a lot of illegal things, it seems fun.
Am I going crazy?
I don't need to answer that.
My job is exciting, it's rewarding as fuck too. I own the best club in the city, that's something I'd never even dreamt of. I opened a club to give people a place to come and let their hair down and have fun, but when I realised it had become such a well known place I knew I couldn't just be selfish and keep all the money I was making. On Fridays 100% of the profits go to charity and I spend most of the money I make on the club, the rest goes to charity too.
I've been accused of donating to charity being nothing but a business move, but that's far from the case. A lot of the charities we support are mental health and addiction support ones because they're close to my heart. Whether it's men's mental health charities, children's, lgbtq mental health centres, I'll gladly donate because it feels like the right thing to do.
If you donate for the sake of an increased public image and not the actual intent of improving other people's lives, you're an asshole.
The sound of Harry's boots against my floor snaps me from my thoughts and I'm met with the sight of a very grumpy looking man walking towards me. This mans mood swings are crazy.
"The Vultures have fucking sprung on us. I need to go, sorry." He sighs, running a hand through his hair with his jaw clenched.
I'm crazy, I know. Forgive me for what I'm about to do.
"Can I come?" I ask bravely.
He does a double take, clearly just as shocked as I am at my day time bravery, this is a night time Harlow type of thing.
"No-"
"Why? If they're having trouble believing our lie then surely my coming with you would help your case." I tell him, knowing I'm right.
I shove my feet into my black converse, watching Harry contemplate his decisions in the reflection of the mirror. I'm right, I mean this would make people believe the little lie we live in, I wouldn't ask to come if I was wrong.
"You're so stubborn." He says, reaching for the heather jacket I own that's hanging up on the hangers above my shoe rack. "You'll fit in better with this."
Okay sure, go ahead and plan next week's outfits while you're at it.
I throw the jacket over my shoulders and Harry looks at me with a smirk, "Birdys getting brave."