~~*~~
Molly Pierce
Okay, Styles could mean anything.
It could be in reference to styling someone, but that really doesn't explain why it's the headline of a crime newspaper. I could have also just pieced the clippings together incorrectly. That's an option, too.
And it's the option I'm sticking with.
It's natural for me to be curious about the meaning behind the word. I could try and piece together the rest of the shredded newspaper clippings into one big article, but I don't think Kiara used the whole thing in her painting, and it'd take too much time.
Plus, I don't know if I actually want to find out. If I'm right, and it does have something to do with H, then I don't want to know. He's made an effort to keep his past a secret, so if this article does have something to do with him, then the best thing for me to do is respect his privacy. I won't be connecting more news clippings, nor will I be scavenging for context clues.
His past is a secret for a reason, and it isn't my place to dig it back up.
I went to sleep last night thinking about the word. Styles. I stared at it for hours until I fell asleep, and sadly, I'm still thinking about it now, even though it's been hours since I woke up.
I've been so focused on it that I forgot today's my mother's birthday. We're throwing a big celebration for it tonight, and I've been too focused on Hot Shot to remember.
Luckily, I made the executive decision twenty minutes ago, that I'd return the ripped piece of paper I found at Lethal's back to H's drawer. It isn't mine, it's his. After that, I'll quickly return to help set up for my mom's party.
I was already planning on seeing H today anyways, so it works out. I'll slip by Lethal's during Niall and Sakura's lunch break, sneak the ripped piece back into the drawer when I get the chance, then I'll tell H all that I planned on telling him already. About how I don't care about his past or his name, and how I really- and I mean really- don't want him sleeping around with other women. I've got this. A singular word isn't going to ruin my confidence.
As I pull up to Lethal's, with the clipping tucked in my back pocket, I squint my eyes with confusion. Briefly, I check the time on my car's radio, before confirming that it is indeed the time Niall and Sakura go on their lunch break. Except, they're not. They're both supposed to be on that break, but instead they're still inside the garage.
Maybe I'm just tired and got the time wrong.
I had to leave my house quickly before my parents could stop me. I'm supposed to be cleaning for the party tonight, but I swept out as fast as I could. I haven't eaten lunch or breakfast, and the only thing I managed to grab was a bottle of lemonade from the fridge before I drove here.
Out of confusion, I park the car inside the lines successfully, and climb out. My feet crash against the gravel as I step underneath one of the tall garage doors, looking in at both of them.
"Hey, Mols," Sakura waves, keeping her back turned to me as she works under the hood of one of the cars.
"Aren't you supposed to be on your lunch break?" I really need them to be so I can put this paper back in the drawer without them seeing.
I step inside, looking around for H, but all I see is Niall sitting at the desk. He's doing paperwork, but in my eyes, he's just another obstacle that's blocking my way to that drawer.
"Yes, we're supposed to be," she pauses what she's doing, spinning around to face me. She tugs the gloves off of her fingers, leaning on the car for support as she catches her breath, "Hot Shot didn't show, so we don't have anyone to watch the shop while we go eat."
"What? Why didn't he show?" I step further inside, slowly inching my way towards the desk.
"No clue," she deadpans, almost like she's pissed.
"Probably woke up at some girl's house. He's never been this late after pulling shit like that, though," Niall keeps his focus on the papers in front of him as he speaks. "And his ass better hurry up, I'm starving."
My shoulders tense. That sentence just knocked my confidence down a couple notches.
I don't let it get to me, and instead I say, "Have you checked his house? Maybe he just slept in."
God, I hope so.
"We can't check now," Niall answers. "I've got to fill out and file these records, and Sakura has to finish fixing those two cars within the next hour. If H was here, we wouldn't be this busy, but he's not. It's pissing me off."
"I can go get you some food," I offer up. "Name a place and I can swing by really fast."
"I appreciate it, but you'd be doing us an even bigger favor if you went up to H's house and told him to get his ass down here," Niall suggests. "The place Sakura and I typically go for lunch is kind of out of the way. It'd be too much to ask."
"No, it wouldn't," I assure him. "But I can swing by his house, if it means you two can catch a break and go eat. I'll come back and let you know if he isn't there."
Please, he better be there. If he isn't, it's going to make it so much harder for me to tell him what I have been planning to say.
"Thanks, Molly," Sakura lets out a sigh of relief, "I'd come hug you, but I don't think you want oil on your shirt."
I smile sarcastically, "How considerate."
I say my final good-byes before climbing back inside of my car. The second I'm enclosed inside of the vehicle, I feel the urge to let my head fall on the wheel. I need to put this torn off clipping back inside of that drawer, but I can't yet. Hot Shot better be at his house, because there are so many other places I'd have to check if he isn't.
I groan as I begin the journey to his home. It isn't far, but on the short drive, I start to get a sick feeling in my stomach. His absence from Lethal's this morning doesn't have to do with what I told him about Ross being at the police station, does it? Did I really upset him that much?
Despite my worries, I push forward through my drive, all the way until I reach his house. My car climbs the hill leading up to his driveway and I successfully park it on the incline. His own vehicle is parked outside, which means he's probably home. Thank God. I doubt he walked anywhere.
I climb out, trying to get rid of the gut feeling irritating my stomach. Figuring it's just my hunger, I take the lemonade with me. I know it isn't food, but drinking something can hold me off. Once I reach the front door, I fail to get rid of it, and all of my worries skyrocket. Freezing in place, I stare ahead. His front door is cracked open. Not closed. Not locked. Open.
How long has it been like that? I start to worry more.
Someone didn't break in, did they?
Out of fear, I start to back away from the house, just in case an intruder is still inside. I can feel my face starting to heat as I circle the home. Quietly, I peek through windows, trying to see if I can spot anything inside that looks different, but to my luck- all of the blinds are shut. Including the large window that overlooks my side of town- the one that he always leaves open.
I make my way back over to the front door and push the crack open a tad. I hold my breath, listening for motion or any sign that someone is inside the home.
Fuck.
Taz.
The door was open. No. No. No.
I immediately flip around, searching the yard. If Hot Shot left his door open, Taz could've gotten out. I start to panic at the thought, desperately making him my first priority.
I cup my hands around my mouth, partially yelling, "Taz."
I call out through the yard, then I try again at the door. If an intruder is in the house, I'll just make a run for it. I know how much H loves Taz, so I've got to find him in case he got out of the house. I continue calling for the cat, desperate that he shows.
"Taz," I raise my voice, feeling myself start to drown in worry.
Please, show up.
Luckily, just as I start to lose hope, I see a small orange figure prance its way through the crack in the door. I let out a sigh of relief and drop to my knees. My hands move forward, and I tuck my drink under my arm to pick him up off the ground.
That's a good sign.
If someone broke inside the house, Taz wouldn't have come walking over to me like that.
Something still feels wrong, though. The front door wouldn't just be open like that. Taz had the perfect opportunity to leave the house, but he didn't. The only reason he'd stay is if the one person he follows around is still inside.
Taz purrs as I prop him up on my shoulder, stepping my way inside of the home. I close the door behind me and my eyes widen in horror. Every time I've been to this house, it's been incredibly well-kept. Hot Shot keeps it clean and organized, but fuck this place looks worse than ever.
Quietly, I venture around through the mess, leaving my lemonade bottle and keys on the counter.
The couch in the living room is knocked off its position on the rug, as if someone had bumped into it on numerous occasions. Some pillows are on the floor, too, but other than that, the living room doesn't have much problems.
The kitchen is the worst. H's medicine bottles are all knocked and toppled over. Though, that isn't the worst part. The cabinet that holds his alcohol is wide open. A bottle of Jack Daniel's is sitting out on the counter, half empty with a spill around it. It clearly isn't the only bottle removed from the cabinet, because knowing Hot Shot, that cabinet would be slammed full.
"H?" I yell through his house. "Are you alright?"
I look over and notice that both Taz's food and water bowls are empty, so graciously, I set him down as I fill them up. I take a minute, grabbing food and then water for him before he rushes over and dips his head into the bowl like he hasn't eaten this morning. Hot Shot always feeds him, is he not up yet?
"Hot Shot?" I call out in full, making my way down the hallway towards his bedroom. "Come on, don't tell me you're-" drinking.
His bedroom door is wide open, exposing more of the mess he's created in full. I don't look at it for long before I notice his bathroom door is wide open, too. With a sigh, my heart drops as I look down on the cold tiles. A maze of bottles scatter on the floor, all leading up to where H is passed out.
I step over the glass quickly, kneeling by his side. I feel his warm forehead with the back of my palm as I grab ahold of his shoulder, lightly shaking him.
"H," I shake him, biting my lower lip to hold back my frustration. "You've got to get up. Come on."
His eyes are sealed tight and his face looks almost sickly pale. Not dead-pale, just incredibly-sick-pale. His coat is off and laid beside him, with a small indention on the side- where I'm guessing Taz laid earlier. A white tank top clings to his body and he reeks of alcohol. He's not just asleep, he's passed out like Sean was telling me about.
I pull his body off of the ground and sit him up against the cabinets underneath the sink. I frown with worry, continuing to shake him in hopes that an upright position might wake him up.
"Please, get up," my voice cracks as I run my hand on the side of his face.
With zero options left, I exchange a glance from Hot Shot to his shower.
"This isn't good, H. At. All," my anger spills out of my mouth as I stand up. My worry is becoming overpowered by my anger the more I think about the situation. My main concern is getting him to wake up, and maybe then my emotions will finally be able to process.
I step over briefly, turning the shower water on to a cold setting before I start tugging him over to it. I can feel the frustration and worry mixing into one in my body. I could be asking myself what caused this, but I already know. I told him that Ross was at the police station and he felt threatened. When he worries, he drinks. That's exactly why I shouldn't have this damn newspaper clipping in my back pocket right now. He gets so stressed at the thought of someone finding out his identity. I don't want to add to that. Well, to this.
I know you aren't supposed to put water on someone who's unconscious, but it worked once for Niall, so it better work for me.
"I. Am. So. Sorry. For. This," I grunt, tugging him into the shower as I use my foot to hold the glass open.
Luckily, his shower is big enough for both of us, otherwise I don't know how the hell I could be in this thing with a man as tall as him. I prop his head up on my thighs and help gently sink him under the water. I feel it hit me too, but only at a mist.
It only takes a few seconds of murmuring under my breath and shaking him for his body to shoot awake. Thank God Sean told me about the shower, otherwise I wouldn't have known what to do.
He spits out water and groans in confusion. Unaware of his surroundings, he weakly rests his head back down on my thighs, and mumbles under his breath. More droplets scatter his skin as he shuts his eyes sickly. He looks like a mess.
I don't even know what to say.
"You've got to get up," I shake him again softly, waiting for his eyes to slowly pry open, but when they don't, I yell, "Hot Shot!"
They snap open and he snaps his hands over his face to block the water, "Molly, I-"
At first my reaction was to treat this situation calmly. Clearly, he was stressed, but now so am I.
"Please don't let this become a regular thing," I unintentionally admit, watching as he opens his mouth again. "Just listen, I know your head hurts. I'm going to leave, you're going to bathe, and then when you're done, we can talk."
He shuts his eyes a second time and mutters inaudibly under his breath again. Considering he's probably trying to get his mind back settled, I give him the benefit of the doubt. I reach over, sitting his head up as I pull his tank top over his head. The motion itself is enough to get him going, and so successfully, I help bring him to his feet. The water soaks his cargo pants as he leans into me, while I pull him upright.
He towers me, looking down into my eyes as he's sways to catch his balance, "I promise, there's a good-"
"Bathe- you smell like alcohol. And then we'll talk," I cross my arms, letting him know I'm serious before he finally nods in agreement.
I step out of the shower and don't look back. I can't tell if I'm worried or frustrated yet.
I take a towel, drying off what I can. Considering my clothes are soaked, there isn't much room to work with, but it's better than nothing. Once I dry off, to the best of my ability, I begin to slowly pick up the bottles off the ground. I trash the empty bottles and shove the full ones back into the cabinet in his kitchen. I then sit his pill bottles upright, fix his couch's position, and place the pillows back on top. I tidy up the kitchen, bathroom, and living room, before moving on to his bedroom. While I'm in there, I'll probably end up grabbing him a fresh set of clothes, because he definitely needs it.
I swing myself around the archway while Taz follows. I look down at him for a second. Maybe I didn't notice it at the door, but he is starting to get bigger. He wasn't that old when H got him, and he's still a kitten, but his features have matured a little since the last time I saw him.
I start to make H's bed by fixing the sheets, however, when I walk to the opposite side of the mattress, I accidentally trip over a small box. To my surprise, the box was already spilled over on the ground, so I briefly lower myself to clean up the spilled papers. My guess is that they all go inside of it.
This box is identical to the one he keeps his old jewelry in, but they just hold different things.
I grab the three envelopes into my hands and place them back inside the box, but then I pause. They're birthday cards. They're addressed to someone named Diane, but one of them is already opened. I don't know any women on the West side that are named Diane, nor did I realize that he did.
He has very few friends, so whoever this is, I shouldn't be worried about. Maybe it isn't my place to know.
Out of respect, I don't inspect the cards further. I make sure that everything is inside of the box before I shut it back closed. I walk over to his desk, setting the card's box down next to the jewelry's identical box that was already out.
As I walk back over to the bed, thinking that was all, I spot Taz playing with another small sheet of paper on the ground. He picks it up in his mouth, rolls over on his back, and tries to rip it. I smile poorly at his antics, kneeling down to take it from his mouth before he accidentally swallows it.
But the second it touches my hand, my smile drops and so does the paper. I let it fall from my hands, swaying back down to the ground.
It says the exact word that's on the newspaper clipping in my back pocket. Styles.
This whole morning I've been trying to convince myself that I spelled the wrong word.
I didn't want to believe that Styles relates to H, but it does.
I take the paper and slide it into the box with the birthday cards, figuring that's where it's from. It's not place, I have to keep reminding myself that.
Forgetting to finish straightening up his room, I grab out a fresh pair of clothes and leave them on the bathroom sink for him. Not longer after, I hear the shower water cut off, but I ignore it as I make my way back to the kitchen. Taz now patiently sits at the bathroom door, waiting for it to be opened, while I go to take a sip from my lemonade. I unscrew the cap and press it to my lips.
I hope that when I get back to my house, the food is already sitting out. I don't know how much a drink can hold me off for, especially with this kind of worry.
I set it back down on the counter and wait. Once the bathroom door opens, I watch as H drags his feet over to me. He's freshly dressed, his hair is damp from the water, and his face angled to face the floor.
"Thank you for cleaning up in here," is all he says. "You have no idea how much I appreciate you."
I ignore his appreciation, "Why'd you let yourself drink that much?"
"I regret it. I didn't take my medicine and I panicked after what you told me about Ross being at the police station," he easily admits. "I was just trying to stop myself from having a panic attack. I didn't mean for you to find me like that."
"Well, I did," I cross my arms. "Do you know what time it is?"
"10?" He rubs the back of his neck.
"It's 1 in the afternoon," I correct. "Niall and Sakura have had to run Lethal's all morning without you, and they're starving because they haven't gotten their lunch break."
"Fuck, I didn't mean-"
"You don't have to repeat it, H, I already know you didn't mean for it to happen, but it did," I insist. We sit in silence for a couple of seconds before I say, "You left your front door open, too. Taz could've gotten out, because you were too focused on drinking. I think you have a problem."
"I know, but it only happens when I'm nervous," he tries to explain, but I can tell that he's still experiencing some sort of hangover.
"Really?" I step over to him. "I don't remember the last time you drank something that didn't have alcohol in it, so you must be nervous all the time."
"I had water last night when I was taking my medicine," he points out.
"What? Two sips to down a couple of pills?" I start to get angry. "Compare that to how much beer you drink in a day- or how many hard liquors you downed last night. You shouldn't be drinking as much as you are."
I remember when he told me that he couldn't have kids, he explained that it's because he fucked his body up too much. He damaged himself by consuming that many harmful substances. Why did that not make him realize that he should take it easy on the drinking?
"I know that I drink a lot, but I swear it's not the only thing I drink," he assures me.
"Oh, really? Besides when you're taking medicine, when was the last time you had a non-alcohol drink?" I test.
He looks around, snatching my lemonade from the counter. He opens the cap and takes a long sip of it before saying, "Right now."
"I'm serious, H," I groan.
"I know," he widens his eyes and takes another sip of the drink before handing it back to me. "Do you want me to stop drinking?"
"I'm not saying that," I'm definitely thinking it, though. "I just don't want you to be doing it as much as you are. It's getting to the point where it's interfering with other people's lives. Niall and Sakura shouldn't have to miss their lunch again. And I don't want to find you passed out again. You're ruining your health and I care about you."
"I know. I'll go down there, explain the situation to them, and apologize," he assures me. "I get why you're worried. I would be, too."
"Please, just try to drink less," I add, even though I want him to stop completely. "It's getting out of hand."
It worries me to say that, because I know that he balances out his drinking and sex. When he's nervous, he's doing one of the two things, but recently he's been drinking a lot more. I'm scared that he might fall back into his habit of getting with random girls if he stops drinking, but I guess I'd rather him do that then deteriorate his health any more, even if it hurts me.
My confession that I don't want him sleeping around with other women is going to have to wait. Now isn't the appropriate time.
"I'll get rid of the hard liquors, okay?" He compromises. "And I'll tell Wyatt not to serve me them at the bar, I'll jus' stick to beer from now on."
Up front, I don't want to argue back with him. I want to agree and move on, but something inside of my head stops me. I need to grow a backbone for once, so instead of agreeing, I say, "I also don't want you drinking every day. Or when you're about to drive. Or when you're at work."
His eyes widen, "But that's all I do."
"And it should've made you realize that you had a problem a long time ago," I further. "Maybe it isn't my place to say, but I really think you should listen to me. You work on cars. You need to be fully present when completing a job like that. Same when you're driving. Drinking during times like that isn't safe."
I expect him to get angry, to tell me that it really isn't my place, but instead I'm met with him stepping forward, "Fine. No drinking at work or when I'm driving. And I'll try to minimize it to every other day."
I stood my ground and he listened. Thank God. With a sigh, I say, "Thank you. And if you want, I can help you at first. I can bring you something to drink instead of alcohol when you're working, so that you don't feel tempted to grab a bottle."
"Right," he seems a little upset. "I'm just going to be honest, though. I may fall back into it. I can try not to, but some days may feel worse than others. I may get carried away like last night."
Like last night.
"As long as you try," I sigh. "I think you only ever get 'nervous' when you think about your past, though."
He glares over at me, "What?"
"I found those cards in your room," the second I say that he stands up tall. I quickly rush over, holding my hands on his shoulders to keep him from walking away, "It's okay, I didn't see anything. I swear, I didn't look at them." Once he calms down, I slide my hands up to the sides of his face, forcing him to look at me, "But I only saw them because you left them out. It could've been anyone that found you passed out- and anyone who found those cards. You have to be more careful and deal with your past better. That's all I'm trying to say."
"Molly, please, tell me you're being honest," he grips my arms tight, pulling them down from my face. "Promise me... you didn't read them, did you?"
"I promise I didn't," I nod truthfully before catching the glare in his eyes. "But it doesn't look like you did either."
His eyes drop, "Yeah, I didn't."
"Then why were they out? Did you write them?" I try to ask, seeing what he'll tell me.
"I was just looking at them," he admits. "And yes, I did."
"When'd you write them?" I hold onto his right wrist with both my hands.
"It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago," he shakes his head.
"Do you think it would've made you feel better if you read them?" I inquire. Either he was drunk when he took out the cards or sober and trying to calm himself, but no matter what, they're clearly important. I'm glad I didn't read them, because I know that would've made this so much worse.
He slowly shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know."
"Read them if you're ever feeling nervous," I suggest. "Whatever's inside must be important, so turn to that instead of drinking."
"I tried that last night," he admits. "It's hard to explain."
"That's fine, you don't have to tell me," I quickly assure him before changing the subject. "Just get yourself ready. I can go back down to Lethal's and let Niall and Sakura know that you're on your way. And after that I have to leave to help decorate my house for my mother's birthday party tonight, so I won't be free to come see you."
"Alright, thank you," he uses his left hand to brush the hair behind my ear, giving himself room to kiss my cheek.
I gather my things from off of the counter before I start to head for the door. I wave him off with a half smile before I turn and give my final wave to Taz- who's laid by his leg. I really hope H listens to me and isn't making an empty promise. He isn't exactly going to go sober, but he's definitely going to have to tone it down a bit. I'll try and research it more later to figure out what's the best way to approach the situation, but for now, I need to try and get this newspaper clipping back inside of the drawer before it's too late.
"Oh, wait. Molly," he catches me at the door. I turn around to face him before he slowly says, "Can you bring me one of those lemonades when you get the chance? I really want to try drinking less, and having another drink may help me."
I take his sentence as a sign that he doesn't want me bringing up the birthday cards anymore, and to instead focus on bringing him another alternative drink.I give him a simple nod before leaving, but once I close the door, all I'm left with is a sharp pain in my chest.
I need to get rid of this newspaper clipping, but for now I'm just glad that he's okay.
~~*~~