predisposition (noun): a liability or tendency to suffer from a particular condition, hold a particular attitude, or act in a particular way
Noelle's POV
My jaw nearly plummets to the tile floor when Arthur struts into the kitchen, clad in casual clothes and a baseball hat. Nervously making eye contact with me for a split second, his eyes dart away and meet the set above mine.
"There you are," Harry speaks. "I thought you weren't going to show."
"I got caught up, but I'm here now. Did I miss anything too important?" He innocently eyes the room with a weak smile. His hands shift from his pockets to under his hat – smoothing out the dark hair there before he shoves them behind his back.
"Winnie beat me at chess," Royce snickers under his breath.
"And can hotwire a police car," Estelle adds, making the room chuckle.
"She can also speak for herself," Winnie rolls her eyes but lets the awkwardness looming in the air subside. I start to wonder if anyone else feels the unpleasant aura filtrating the room or if it's just me and my conscious.
"We were just about to go over the footage, so you didn't miss anything worthwhile," Harry answers Arthur's original question and sets down his cup on the kitchen counter. My OCD tells me to make him throw it away, but that isn't nearly as important as my current situation.
"I'll set up the laptops," Royce points one finger up into the air to the living room and follows out on his word. Like a trail of ducklings waddling behind their mother, Klara, Estelle, Winnie and Arthur all follow behind him.
My fist grabs ahold of Harry's t-shirt and stops him from moving, to which a skeptical frown takes over his face and makes him cower down to ask, "What's wrong?" My face should tell him exactly what I don't want to bring up.
"Did you invite him?" I whisper yell with pursed lips.
"Yeah, what's the big deal?" He nonchalantly shrugs but now I see the anger hidden deep in his eyes.
"Why?"
"I might hate him, but he could potentially help us with Internal Affairs and figuring out that shit mess. What he did by not telling me about my father's call with Fred is unforgivable, but we need to look past that so we can focus on ending what should've never started."
"Are you sure you're okay with it, though?" I ask meekly. Truthfully, I don't know how to feel.
"I'm trying to be," Harry sighs while looking up at the ceiling. Meeting my eyes again, he adds, "Honestly, I am trying to fix things and what he may have had with you I know will never happen. The least I could do is not be like my father but give him another chance."
My eyes soften at the mention of his dad. Deep down I can see the hurt and ache on his face of what he thinks to be losing another parent, and I can understand that completely. If there is one thing we share, it's understanding and feeling sympathy for others just as unfortunate as us. But then again, others don't have what we share, either.
"Your father-"
"I don't want to talk about him right now."
"I was just going to say that he is very lucky to have a son so honest and hard working." I finish anyway, seeing how my words lighten his mood slightly. "You're worth more than you think." I can't emphasize these words enough. He blocks them out every time, it seems like. I wish they'd absorb into his thick skull and cool the aches and stings of hurt that strike him every day.
"You're too accepting of my arsehole tendencies," he jokes, but I don't see how he can think such a thing.
"I'd never be with him, Harry." I tell him and mean it. "It meant nothing to me that night."
"I'm not going to be a dick about, I know it didn't. But that still doesn't make it any easier to not bust his smart arse face into a wall," he huffs while rolling his eyes and I snort at how fast his mood has changed.
"Control yourself," I remind.
"Right. Control," he repeats for further emphasis.
The sound of bass no longer eradicates through our apartment and the overall noisy laughter has now completely vanished, as well. I am overly ecstatic that Harry is trying to push back whatever anger he has and move on, but it's quite risky to play around with the little amount of self control he has and I can only hop Arthur realizes this and doesn't do anything that could potentially harm him. Although I wouldn't mind considering he could've stopped what happened to me... no.
"Noelle?"
"Yeah, sorry. What was that?" My eyes dart back to his worry-filled ones.
"Are you mad at me?" His open words make me want to jump into his arms and assure him that it would take something extremely barbaric to make me ever stay mad, but my feelings seem to try and make me override the issues we still need to resolve later. I can't completely give in, but I can't stay as pissed as before, either.
Especially after our "truce".
"No, I just didn't expect for him to be here. It threw me off guard." I honestly answer. It makes it so much harder for me to be honest now knowing that Harry exposed himself and let me in on his fear that he might turn out like his father. That would never happen.
"I can kick his ass out?"
"No! No, don't. No ass kicking tonight," I laugh even though I'm very serious on the inside. "We should go out there before they think we are fucking on the table next to the candy warts."
Harry looks surprised at my language, but his head falls back in a deep laugh and both dimples make themselves prominent. The sound and sight is beautiful, really. "Although, I wouldn't mind that."
"Oh, shut up," I smack him and drag him out of the kitchen in giggles.
Before we exit, he spins me around and plants his lips on mine in a short and sweet kiss. "I love you," Harry says, tasting like the perfect mixture of mint and alcohol. His cheeks and neck are slightly red, making him look overall adorable.
"I love you, too." Those words hold such little meaning to how I really feel toward him. They are simply used too frequently for my liking, but just as Harry would say, "We are not romantic poets that can come up with anything more sophisticated. We're barely clowns."
Grabbing my hands, he intertwines his fingers between the spaces in-between mine and leaves a delicate kiss on the ring he bought me himself. "I mean it." His voice is slow and deep, making me smile widely every time he refers to his gift.
"I know," I nod and peck his lips one last time. "Let's go."
The Harry I first met at the hospital would have never done such sweet things or spoke such kind words. I can only smile at the way he has opened up and really become the only boy who I can picture being with. In a way, we're each other's firsts because neither of us has ever had relations prior to each other. I like that.
As we walk into the now deserted living room- void of anyone outside our social circle- Harry places his hand on my back and leads me in front of the makeshift stereo-table Royce has his laptop set upon.
"We cleared everyone out," Klara informs us and impulsively takes a glimpse down at Harry's hand holding my hip - then my eyes. With a knowing smile, she looks away and darts her eyes back to the computer.
As awkward as things are between her and I, it isn't nearly as suffocating as earlier. Then, I couldn't even stand the sight of her. Now, I can't stand the sight of her but her newly pleasant attitude is making it more bearably tolerable to.
"What've you got Royce?" Harry speaks up, disrupting my thoughts. Our group is all hunched over the laptop, Royce sitting in front and clicking on multiple tabs to display camera footage. He types in some random number and the screen fills with color immediately.
My hand finds the ledge of the table to lean onto, Harry's height something to envy as he can see like a hawk looking down on the ground from soaring in the sky. His chest touches my back as he looks down, jaw tight and clenched as he tries to make up a mental vision in his mind.
"So," Royce starts, the tranquility in his voice contradicting how uneasy we all await his news in. "Jeremy was dealing with some major debt before he was killed, so I figured he'd have cameras put up in his office for safety measures. When we first checked initially, there had been no traces of cameras in his personal office – just the main office and reception desk. But recently, last night when I was rerunning footage and trying to pull up the audio, I found something."
My eyes squint at the tab he pulls up, a black screen displaying itself until Royce clicks a button and plays the muted footage. "See here," he points to the screen. "This footage was taken approximately hours before Jeremy was emitted into the hospital for food poisoning."
I notice the way he stands from behind his desk with a wince and walks over to the door. We all watch the screen quietly – Jeremy smiling at whoever knocked on his door and motioning for the man who steps through to sit in front of his desk.
My palms sweat on the table and nearly make me fall over onto the table. The backside of a man who steps through Jeremy's door wears an orange baseball cap faced forward, dark glasses shading over his face and a light denim flannel. He reaches out his hand and shakes Jeremy's, smiling crookedly.
"He never faces the camera the whole entire six minutes he is speaking with Jeremy," Royce adds but I only faintly hear him. Something about the man in dark wash jeans sets off an alarm in my head. His figure and tan skin make me really think.
"Noelle?" Harry looks down at me with a curious expression, looking as though to be silently pleading I have any relation or information on the man when in reality, I don't. He's tall and tan and has dark hair, but so does a lot of New York's population – minus the tan part. We're all pale from the cold weather and snow.
"I don't know him," I shake my head, bummed. "Maybe I've seen him on campus before? But he doesn't stand out as someone who would try and speak with me." I wish I could force myself to be the savior here and be able to tell a name, address and occupation of this man, but I just can't put my finger on him and his dark shades.
"You're sure?" Klara raises a brow, hesitantly.
"I wouldn't lie about it."
"Okay," she raises her hands into the air in defense.
"Maybe he works with Jeremy?" Estelle quips and Arthur steps in.
"Jeremy must have known who the man was if he let him in."
"He trusted him," Harry whispers. "Could you restore the audio, Royce?"
"Not in the amount of time that I had. Internal Affairs shut down the department when I had just learned about this footage, so I couldn't use the right programming to decrypt it correctly." He looks up over his glasses.
"Can you do it tonight?" Harry looks down to him.
Hesitance and uncertainty is clear in Royce's facial features, but with a tired sigh and multiple people's gazes on him, he nods and purses his lips under the pressure. "It could take until tomorrow morning – maybe later, but I can give it a go."
"Great," Harry curtly nods. "Get to work."
"Thank you, Royce," I say, looking over to Harry and he shrugs at me nonchalantly. I roll my eyes and pat the nerdy boy on the back. "You can stay here until everything is all figured out. Do you want me to stay up with you?" I offer.
"I can do it," Winnie voices and I almost forgot she was still here. "If you let me stay, of course."
"Sure, keep him company," Harry shrugs and stands up to crack his neck and shoulders.
"I should get going, it's getting late and I've had a long morning," Estelle also stands up and rubs the tension from her neck. Tiredness creeps into her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes has dulled; she hasn't slept since two nights ago, so I don't blame her.
"What about me?" Klara and Arthur both say at the same time, looking at each other in shock.
"You can sleep in my old room?" I offer but realize how awkward it was to basically announce that Harry and I have been sleeping in the same bed for quite some time now. Oh well.
Klara shrugs her shoulders while her arms are crossed and Arthur looks more relaxed at the idea than staying out with Royce and the new but very out-going girl. Winnie kicks her feet up onto the coffee table and takes in a deep breath.
"Then it's settled," Harry nods and runs a hand through his unruly hair.
Harry's POV
After we finish operating our apartment to fit the needs of every fucking person from the department, managing pillows and supplying double the amount of warm blankets, I fall to my bed and join my fingers behind my head in a sigh.
So many thoughts fly by my mind as I overthink what could possibly come by the time tomorrow morning arrives. My father also comes to mind and guilt for speaking to him that way, but I don't regret it. He's an arsehole.
"Are you tired yet?" El asks me, keeping her distance.
"Yeah, you?"
"Yeah, but I shouldn't be." She yawns again, nestling her foot over the floor to find spare clothes. She didn't bring any along with her from her old room and going back now would be awkward as fuck, especially with Arthur and Klara resting there. They better not get any ideas.
"There are shirts in my top drawer. You can wear one of those," I tell her noticing her struggle, and after debating to take me up on my offer or not, she nods and opens my drawer.
Pulling out one of my old N.Y.P.D. shirts, she looks over to me as if asking for permission and I nod, hiding a smile at the light that shines in her eyes when I grant her a yes. The smallest things she done has my heart in tingles and I hate it but love it at the same damn time.
While she's in the bathroom getting changed, I strip and change into more comfortable sleepwear than jeans and a button down. Instead of hiding my scarred chest from her like I used to do earlier on in our relationship, I skip a shirt altogether and pull on a pair of sweat pants. It's warm in this over-populated apartment, anyway.
The noise of the faucet dripping sounds when I enter the open door; Noelle stands over the sink and ducks down to bend near the stream of water without any pants on, making my eyes widen but my head turn. As delightful as watching her would be, I feel like it'd offend or make her uncomfortable.
Loose strands of brown hair cascade down her back along with into her face and stick to her cheeks from the water. I chuckle and push the hair behind her ears. "Thank you,'' she smiles and checks her teeth in the mirror.
I reach for my toothbrush and she takes a seat on the closed toilet. When she first came to my apartment, I remember the fuss she made about me leaving the lid open and how not having a cover on the lid looks barbaric or like, and I quote, "a fucking frat house". I laugh now at the memory and she raises an eyebrow, ''What?"
"Nothing," I answer through a mouth-full of foam. "This is fucking weird."
"I think it's nice to have everyone here," she shrugs but there is something off to her tone.
Looking back to her fingers twirling, I can tell she is thinking of something but choosing not to speak aloud about it. I've seen her do this enough to know that unless I interfere, her mind will run her wild until she can't help but burst it out. Then it usually ends terribly. Just like before our first fight and it took her screaming at me to get her point across because I was too fucking stupid to see it without her pointing it out. We've come a long way since then. I hope.
"Are you okay?" I spit into the sink and wipe my mouth. "Like, really okay? You're acting odd and I don't know how to take it." There's no point in bullshitting her. She is too smart to not see it.
With a loud sigh, my insides curl into a ball. Why does she look so nervous? My mind wanders with absurd thoughts without my control before my grip on the counter tightens and my knuckles become a white-ish purple. I feel like my insides will explode if she gives me one more pitied look.
"No. No, I'm not." And just like that, she's standing in front of me, head nuzzled into my neck and tears staining her cheeks. The palms of her hands duck under my shoulders and hug me from behind, my anticipation growing second by second.
"Noelle, what is wrong?" She just shakes her head and as confused as I am, I don't want to be an arsehole and push her to speak, but I want to know what the hell has caused her so much stored up pain.
Noelle's POV
Tears swell up in my eyes as I mentally battle myself through guilt and nervousness. I keep pushing away the talk I need to have with Harry and it isn't fair for either of us. Especially him. He has proven on multiple occasions that he is trying and here I am, casually pushing under the rug what needs to be spoken.
I have resentment for Arthur and Nate for making me feel so useless and pathetic; it's shameful, really. Estelle included in that mix for making me participate in such an awful event and vowing to keep it secret, but I willfully put myself in that position. My fear is that he'll listen and barge into the living room and cause a scene, but I just can't keep lying to him. It breaks my heart to do so when we are usually so honest with one another.
"Noelle," Harry pushes, his voice in that borderline tolerant tone but just barely. I know he is getting antsy and I don't blame him. If only my slow mind could piece together words I could feed him in full truth.
"Can we sit, a-and talk?" I stutter, wiping my eyes.
Crying has always made me feel small and useless; I hate it. Hiccupping, I hesitantly nod down toward the comforter and he sits on the end of the bed. I consider joining him until I realize that saying these words and being near him isn't necessarily the best idea. Harry would never lay a hurtful finger on me purposely, I know that wholeheartedly, but I want to take every precaution so drama can't force its way in-between.
"El, you need to tell me what the hell is going on. Right now," his glare is vexed and I nod frustratedly at my jumbled thoughts and lash away the tears on my cheeks with both palms. This is going to hurt him, I know it, and I hate myself for it.
The air in the room restricts me the second I open my mouth, but I don't stop to use that as an excuse. These secrets will tear me apart if I don't let them out and even though I've only held them for mere hours, I can't not avoid what my heart says as apposed to what my mind is telling me to do.
"Before I start, I want you to promise me something." I bargain.
"Noelle that isn't fair. What did you-"
"Please?" My voice sounds like a beg but at this point, I am begging. Internally, at least.
"Fine," Harry huffs, face tight and shoulders tense. "Go on."
"I need you to not leave this room after I tell you."
"Why does that have anything to do with this? What happened that you're not telling me?"
"Because I just need you to, okay?" His reaction is hidden behind a stone wall and I know I'm slamming every brick block by not telling him immediately. "It's about last night, and, well, when I was with Estelle."
"What about last night?" Harry encounters. "Royce already told me you were with her."
"I-I just," my breathing is heaving and so are my nerves. How do I even try to begin here? "Estelle and I were at the department. She asked me to do something that I know will piss you off and I shouldn't have done it but I felt like I had to and it was late and I wasn't thinking properly especially with Jeremy and the case and you in jail and-"
"Noelle, stop talking so fast. Breathe," he tells me, cutting off whatever train of thought I had that just seemed to tumble from my lips and land in the hostile air between us. "Why are you acting so frantic?" He heavily breathes and I know it's taking a lot for him not to stand up and force the answer out of me.
"I took something for her," I answer. Harry's expressions twist into confusion. "For your father, Harry. She told me about your mother and how Internal Affairs were after him, and that it could jeopardize your position. I stole files and now they might know," I sob harder and through my tears, I can't make out his expression.
When my body turns around to face the wall, I hear the bed creak. As scary as I thought this would be, I am more relaxed now that he knows half of the problem at hand. He has every right to be pissed, but what shocks me is that he is so quiet and not screaming or nailing me for my grave mistake.
"El," Harry heavily says, voice low and deep like gravel.
I say nothing. I'm scared to turn around, frankly.
"Look at me."
"I'm so sorry,'' my tears are soaking my hands and streaming down my arms.
I don't know why all of a sudden I'm so emotional. It must be from seeing the security camera footage and how ever since the museum every aspect of my life has been nothing but harsh reality slamming down on me. I miss my mom, I miss my old life; I love Harry but going from a boring, antisocial schoolgirl to this supposedly strong interrogator has been a tough transformation.
"I'm drowning myself, Harry," I choke. "And I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I can only imagine how-"
"Mad I'd be?" He cuts me off.
I sniffle. "Yeah."
"Or how I'd be disappointed in you?"
"Are you?"
"I have a reason to be, El,'' he tugs at his hair and the floor under his sock-clad feet seems to be the most interesting thing in the world. I deserve to feel bad for what I've put him through, but at the same time, if I look back up and see the hurt laced into his hopeful eyes, I might just lose it. Worse.
"Are you mad at me?" I ask meekly and take a seat on the bed. In a way, this is my white flag. By me sitting down and letting him stand above me- although it makes me feel like a disciplined child- I know that's the only way that will let his anger dull to a small flame instead of a burning forest fire.
Harry sighs and I watch through clumped eyelashes as his hand mangles at his hair. He isn't speaking which makes me glad yet scared. His lips open to revolt words but then they clamp shut and another lap is made around the room.
"I'm so sorry," I apologize again.
"How long did you plan on not telling me?" He seethes, standing above me with a rising and falling chest. The scars crossing his torso make me gulp but they are also a part of him and are a personified version of what he stands for. His past will never define him to as much of an extent as he may believe.
"Estelle told me not to.." I whisper. I hope they can't hear us.
"No, how long did you plan on not telling me? I'll worry about her later."
"I was going to this evening. I had every intention to, but then everyone was over and it didn't feel right to take you away while you were enjoying their company. I'm so sorry, Harry." I frown, biting my lip.
"It didn't feel right? Nothing about this should've felt right!" He yells but not at me. His head turns toward the wall to not look into my eyes and as much as it hurts, I need to let him yell it out. Just hopefully not too loudly.
"Des has hurt you enough. I didn't want him to take your future away from you, too. I thought that if I did this, he wouldn't have anything else to hurt you with." My chest tightens. "That it would make you happy."
"Noelle," Harry pauses, agitated. "My future is you. Not him. By doing this you could have possibly taken away any chance that we have at being happy. I don't give a flying fuck if he goes to jail or if I get fired. You're all that I want and need. Don't I make that clear to you?"
"I-I," I'm speechless.
"Do I not make it clear how much I love you?" He chokes. Shit, now we're both in tears over one another. "I'm sorry that my shit father makes you feel like you have to do these things, and I'm so fucking sorry that I lose my temper and lash out. But I am even more sorry if I don't make you feel loved enough to have that option. Because I can't possibly give you that, it doesn't mean I'm not trying to fight every odd we have here. But if you keep hiding things from me and not telling me until it's too late, we can't work. This," he points his finger between us, "-can't work."
"Say something," he adds when I realize I haven't said anything. My tongue is caught in my throat.
"El," Harry says so softly that I can barely hear him. His feet stalk up to mine and he bends down onto his knees in-between my legs to grab my face. The long and soft strokes of his padded thumbs make me close my eyes and lean into his palm - momentarily forgetting the world around us and being able to find comfort in him. "What will it take for you to realize this?"
"You don't need to prove anything to me," my voice sounds like a sixty year old smoker's would, the screaming I am doing in my head making me question if those chants were said aloud. "I broke my promise to you by going behind your back. I'm such a hypocrite."
"Humans never keep their promises. All we do is lie, betray and destroy," Harry says and the last remains of my heart shatter to the floor. Such a broken boy with so many stray pieces in need of gluing back together. "But you know the best thing about being human?"
I quirk my brow at him and his rough fingers tilt my jaw to seep into his eyes. In times like this, when we are so close and his features are as soft as silk, my mind can't help but endlessly roam the reasons why he will forever mean more to me than any other human that could ever separate us.
"What?" I respond.
"That we have our whole life to keep promising and to keep trying." Harry rubs his thumb over my bottom lip and my head creeps closer to his lips, his mint-scented breath fanning my face and making my insides melt. "Ever if our forever isn't long, it's enough if I get to spend it looking into your eyes and holding onto your hand. I will fail, you will cry, then I will shout at you and you will push me back because you're feisty like that." He laughs and I pathetically join him. "But I'd never make a promise I didn't intend to keep. So when I say forever, it means every forever that I get to spend with you. I will take as many as I can get."
Before I know it, his lips are on mine. Their savory taste floods my senses and envelopes me in love and warmth. My hands reach to tangle and knot in his unruly hair, both our hearts increase but mine must be pounding harder. Every lap of his tongue on mine erases another haunting memory and I can't help but wonder if he thinks the same thoughts and feels the same relief.
My thighs squeeze together as he stands from his knees and hunches over the bed, my hands instantly aiding myself crawl back toward the headboard without a doubt. All the love I could possibly lend has been given to this boy with no promises on a return. And I can't find one thing I dislike about being his.
All of me from my sins to my quirks, to his anger issues and bloodied knuckles; we fit like puzzle pieces but in the most odd way. Without having to try and push away the thoughts I have on what is to come, I let Harry remove my shirt and the rest is to add to the list of savored nights that I surely won't forget.
Turns out, Halloween is my favorite holiday after all.
You're going to bust my balls for this ending, I can tell, haha. But I still don't intend to write smut, so... how are you guys?
For the past few chapters, votes and comments have been going down drastically and I can't tell you how sad that makes me. I get over eight-hundred views, but barely forty votes and twenty comments. If you all just commented once and voted it would literally mean the world to me! I spend so much time writing and doing further research, so please do show me you care and are involved. It's fun to have a say and engage with other readers!
I love you guys! How was your weekend?
Follow me on Twitter: xDani_Official.
Comment for a chance at a dedication!
Remember: 1 vote + 1 comment - faster update!
Byeee! :)
- Dani xx