Around noon I drive to the penthouse. Niall leaves a text saying Liam and Louis are out again. I wonder where they are always disappearing to, Niall says errands but I know it's not that. You wouldn't come home with bruised knuckles or a few bruises on your face if you are running errands. I don't hold the authority to ask them about it, we are friends, or I'd like to think we are, at least with Liam. Louis is a different case but we are on common grounds and he is civil with me.
The elevator doors open and I find Niall on the couch, putting his shoes on. I drag my bags behind me, "Hey, good you are here. I have to go meet up with Louis and Liam." I hope everything is alright. "So, I'm all alone?" It was more of a desire than a question, I cannot stand being in the same room as Harry. "Uhh.. no Harry is asleep."
Asleep. That's better than being awake, if I am lucky enough, the boys will be back before he wakes up. "Okay, be careful." He looks worried, his body language was different, stiffer. "Ni, you okay?"
"Huh? Oh yeah no, I'm fine, don't worry." He gives me a hug and disappears into the elevator in a hurry. He was acting strange, I hope everything is okay.
I felt like cooking something, so I decided to make some sweet and sour soup along with garlic bread. With both my buds in and listening to music, I really did enjoy prepping and cooking. Lately my life has been so busy it feels like I don't have much time to do the things I enjoy or just time to myself in general. I made extras just in case anyone wants some.
Just as I finished washing the dishes to go pour myself a drink, I hear some shuffling. He is awake. I take a seat at the bar, pouring myself some whiskey. I've probably had whiskey before, just don't remember the taste. Besides, I think I'll need it.
Harry walks down the stairs shirtless, his tshirt bunched up in his hand but the moment we had eye contact, he used the shirt to cover himself and I was quick to turn to face the variety of liquor so my back was towards him. I didn't think he wanted me to look at him shirtless, so when I hear him put his tshirt back on, I look over my shoulder to see him looking for something in one of the cabinets. He pulls out an orange prescription bottle and swallows a pill, dry. Is he getting high this early?
"Why are you back here?" he questions and I shrug my shoulders, trying not to initiate anything. The elevator door dings and he leaves only to come back a couple of minutes later, yelling into the phone, "Why the fuck did you take my car? What am I supposed to do now!"
No, no, no, I can't have him be angry while I'm here alone. "I don't fucking care if your car needed it's oil changed! How the fuck am I supposed to go now?" His voice gets louder.
"I'm not asking her." He hushes his voice a little but I can still hear him. I hear him walk up to me, his hand extended beside me, holding his phone out reluctantly. I take the phone and bring it to my ear, "Hello?"
"Hey, sorry, can you drop Harry somewhere if you're not busy?"
"Uhm.." No thanks. "S-Sure, I mean he can take my car if he wants." I try to get us both out of an awkward situation.
"Yeah no, I'm sure he is either high or badly hungover."
"Oh okay. I'll do it. Bye." I hang up and give Harry his phone back, "Just give me the keys and I'll drive." He demands which pisses me off a little, "No, I'm driving or you aren't going."
He huffs but doesn't argue. Instead, he pours himself a cup of coffee, chugging it and pressing the elevator button. I guess this works, we don't have to talk.
I get into the driver's seat and ask him for the address. To which he doesn't reply to again but puts the address in the navigation himself. We drive in silence, except for the music playing and I swear I could hear Harry humming to the music. Sometimes I forget he is a normal person who does things like listen to music that isn't his. I glance at him looking out the window, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. "You missed an exit."
"Huh?" I look at the navigation re-routing. "Sorry, I mis-read the board."
"What do you mean you mis-read the board? Can you not see?" I can see him looking at me from my peripheral vision and I can hear it in his voice that he is annoyed.
"I can, I just have a little bit of power. I don't wear glasses; I usually don't need them but reading the names of streets and exits is a little blurry." I explain in the calmest way possible.
"You can't fucking see! Why are you driving!" Why are you getting fucking agitated, Harry. I look at him, his scrunched up face, "I can see enough to drive, calm down."
"What the fuck, Whitlock. You need to get your eyes checked. Today." Who the hell does he think he is ordering me what to do?
"I know how to take care of myself so we can go back to not talking and I'm taking a coffee detour so could you please pass me my bag from the back seat." I gesture towards the back seat. He doesn't fight back which I appreciate. I see him turn and stretch to grab my bag, but when he does, his tshirt rides up, revealing a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. "Why the fuck do you have a gun Harry!" it came out louder than I thought.
"And there's the shrieking." He slams the small bag on my lap, "Harry, I'm not driving with you having a gun." I try to fight. I never expected him to have a gun for some reason. He scares me enough and now that I know he carries a gun with him, it doesn't make anything better.
He leans into me over the center counsel, placing a hand on the headrest of my seat, "Listen carefully. You are going to get your fucking coffee and keep your mouth shut while you drop me off or I swear to God I will put a fucking bullet through your head if I hear you complain again." His voice is so calm and composed, like me finding out he has a gun doesn't bother him at the slightest. Why would it bother him, he is a psychopath and he would gladly do what he said. The only other time I have ever been in an encounter with a gun recently is at Deception's concert, which still bothers me at the back of my head but it is locked in a box somewhere for now. I swallowed the very prominent lump in my throat, turning the music up to drown my thoughts and distract me from thinking about the weapon.
What the fuck am I doing with my life.
After reaching the location, which was a bar on the outskirts of the city, he told me to wait in the car no matter what. To which I then said, "Okay, but what if a maniac walks out with a big machine gun, then can I go?" which was stupid of me but he said, "No, you stay." Okay Harry, I will stay throughout a shooting because I'm more scared of you than those people with the guns. His lack of consideration for my safety is unbelievable. Surely, he wouldn't care for anyone but it feels like the carelessness is more when it comes to me.
Luckily, I didn't hear any gun shots or anything else to my surprise and Harry came out around 20 minutes later with bruised knuckles. "What happened!" I widen my eyes at his knuckles, shifting in my seat to turn my body to him as he takes a seat, "Just drive."
"Harry you're hurt!" I was filled with panic, "I'm really not in a mood and your squealing isn't helping so Just. Fucking. Drive." I cuss under my breath at his rude demeanor and start driving. As I am approached by a long empty road, I slam my foot against the gas and go above the speed limit which makes Harry shift in his seat. Is he scared? The possibility makes me smirk, it would mean he has a weakness that I know of and frankly, at this point, I would consider it a small win. "Slow down, Whitlock." He speaks cautiously.
"Why? Are you afraid?" I repeat the words he once said to me but this time I'm the one in control and I'm the one smirking. "No. I just don't trust your driving at all so slow the fuck down." He continues to speak cautiously like I'm drunk, standing on the edge of a roof and he is trying to talk me down.
"Hmm, no." I continue to drive at a constant speed and look at him for a split second, but then I see him worried, I'm not sure why he is worried. I focus on his face for longer than I expected to, my own expressions softening at the thought of him not trusting me to the point where he is worried. I snap out of my thoughts when interrupted, "Hope!" he reaches over to the steering wheel and I look ahead to see a car approaching, both our hands on the wheel, swerving the car so it goes off road onto the grass until I press the breaks.
We sit there in silence for a couple of minutes as I try to recover from what I almost did and catch my breath. "You are un-fucking-bearable!" he points at me, "What is wrong with you? First you are blind, second you drive like that when you have no control over the car! What kind of a bitchy attitude is this where you are always trying to make me angry!"
That's it.
"I have a bitchy attitude? And what is wrong with me? Harry, what is wrong with you? Since the moment we met you have been nothing but mean to me! I have done absolutely nothing to get the hatred and the reaction that I do from you! I'm trying to be nice and civil!" he opens his mouth to speak but I hold up a finger to stop him, "All you have done, is try to kill me!" I yell louder now, "Always threatening me for no fucking reason! You are so full of yourself that you can't see what others are going through! Unlike you, I care about people who I barely know because everyone deserves kindness and compassion! I didn't risk our lives right now because I sure as hell knew I have control over the car! If it wasn't for you and your stupid yelling, I would have been just fine!" I pause for a second, feeling my cheeks get hot from all the anger coursing through me.
I wait for him to say something but he just sits there with a harsh look in his eye that makes my stomach twist. "Go on, yell some more!" What? "Threatening me because you don't like my voice is not okay! I am a person, a person who has something called feelings that I'm sure as hell you have never heard of because if you did, you wouldn't do this to me." I bring my feet up and tuck them beneath me so now I tower over Harry. "You're just like Kyle, using me when you feel like it only to throw me away later." I tone my pitch down a little, my voice raw from all the screaming and my eyes brim with tears, "Only difference is I loved him, but you? I hate you."
He grabs my wrists, holding them harshly and pulling me forward, "Don't ever compare me to that filthy prick." He spits, grinding his teeth so hard that they may break from the impact. After everything that I have said, the mention of Kyle is what he reacted to. How much of an ego does this man have that being compared to another is what triggers him instead of every other negative thing I have said about him.
Once he let go of me, I sink back in my seat, turning the air conditioning on to cool myself down, my cheeks were burning with the amount of anger pent up in me.
We drive in silence. He keeps his eyes out the window but the small crevice between his brows show that he is lost in thoughts. I wonder what goes on in that mind of his.
When we reach the penthouse, he goes straight to his room while I pour myself a drink. Being with him has made me more of a drinker, I know my limits though. I also figured out that I like bourbon. Ever since being here, I tried different types of alcohols to find what I like best, burning my throat with something I relish is better than burning it with something that I don't enjoy. Different drinks put people in different moods and I think it's more psychological than physical because being drunk is all the same.
About half an hour later, I hear loud music playing from Harry's room. Why is he so annoying? I march over to his room and linger outside his bedroom door, contemplating if I really want to trigger the devil even more. He didn't yell back like I expected and I feel like he might just snap at me.
I knock at his door. I'm just going to ask him to turn the music down. I internally prepare myself for what to say. I knock again. No reply. I turn the knob and push the door open, "Harry?"
What I see in front of me is a mess, his comforter is on the floor and he is sitting on the floor by the bed, if he wasn't tall, I wouldn't have seen him at all. I walked further into the room towards him to see him with his knees to his chest as the back of his head rests against the mattress with his eyes closed. The music is so loud that my heart is thumping, it being the reason why he probably hasn't noticed me enter. I turn the music down and tiptoe to the door when I hear him taking quick short breaths. Is he crying?
"Harry?" I turn and walk towards him slowly and kneel in front of him to meet his height. "Get out." He doesn't yell, it sounds more like a plead than an order but his breathing is all weird like he is gasping for air.
"What's wrong." I hover my hands over his arms but hold myself back from touching him, unsure of what is happening and how he would react. "Can't... breathe.." His strained voice manages to whisper. I hold his jaw with both hands, pulling his face so his eyes meet mine, they are insanely red and glossed, his face turning pale while I watched him struggle to breathe.
"Hey, hey, look at me, breathe." I take a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling, hoping he would mimic me but he doesn't, instead he snaps his eyes tight shut. "Harry, no, look at me, please." I take a second to process what is happening and realize I know this. I have seen this before; I've been through this.
Panic attack.
I don't know what comes over me to sit here and help this man who has brought nothing but pain to me but I push all of that away in this moment just wanting to help him somehow.
"Listen to my voice." Wrong choice of words Hope, he hates your voice, just like the rest of you. "Harry please, just open your eyes and look at me. You need to breathe for me, okay." He opens his eyes and the fear I see in his eyes is something that I thought was not possible. "Breathe in" I take a deep breath in, gesturing for him to mimic me and he tries, "Breathe out." He attempts but faulters as his lungs deflate with short staggering breaths. He throws his head back in frustration, "You're doing great." I try to praise him for his attempts, rubbing my hands on his leg, trying to soothe him in anyway possible. I've had these before to know that your windpipe starts closing in and no matter how much you try, it is really hard to breathe. Having someone to distract you somehow seems to work for some people and I hope it works for him right now.
He tries to breathe with my but kept failing and getting frustrated, cussing and tugging on his roots so hard I was scared he was going to rip his hair out.
I pull his hands down, putting one on his knee and holding it there while I take the other and put it over where my heart is, "Focus on this." I take deep breaths for him as his green eyes are fixated on mine. I take my other hand that isn't holding his anymore and push his hair back from his forehead.
"You're doing so good just a little more, okay? I need you to take a couple of more deep breaths for me, okay?" He acknowledges me by giving me a small nod while I continue to stroke my thumb against his cheek and taking deep breaths. After doing it a couple of times, I watch him not struggling as much anymore.
Relief washes over me at hearing him breathe, my own heartbeat returning to normal.
"You're okay, you're okay." I whisper, resting my forehead against his knee in relief. We sit there in silence and none of us try to move. Just breathing in unison.
"How did you do that?" His voice breaks the silence as he takes his hand back that I forgot it was still on my chest.
"What?"
"I have never been able to get through it so quickly." He shakes his head.
"I don't know."
He peers into my eyes as I watch his pupils shrink to their normal size, nods and gets up to walk over to the study table, opening a drawer and bringing out a small bag of white powder. I sit there in awe, watching him pour some of the contents on the table, using a credit card to line it up and inhale it while pinching a nostril. He sighs in relief like this made him feel better than a few minutes ago when he was able to catch his breath.
He notices my eyes on him and holds the bag out to me, "Want some?"
"Uhh n-no, I don't-" I shake my head quickly.
I get to my feet, and quietly walk out of the room, closing the door behind me. Why did I help him? I saw him struggle and I should have just left him there to deal with it however he does. After the things he has done to me, I should have loved to see him struggle. But I didn't, instead, I was worried.
I couldn't bring myself to leave him like that, everyone deserves compassion, even him. I could wish that this would change things but that is just not possible with the way things were going. He was going to continue being awful to be and I will continue to be afraid of him.
<3 A.