Another update in celebration of Harry's single coming out tomorrow🎉
So proud of my honey. ❤
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I was sitting on my bed with a blank canvas resting in my lap, the pencil twirling between my fingers as I tried to draw what I was feeling. Usually I'd draw or paint something up to destress or whenever I was feeling inspired, but lately, I couldn't draw anything that wasn't related to Harry. He was all I seemed to be thinking about these days and it bugged me. I wanted to paint something meaningful but I couldn't with his face constantly in my head. It didn't help that I found myself thinking about him increasingly more after what he shared with me on Saturday.
If I wasn't already curious about Harry's family life, I definitely was now. I wanted to know more about him. Like why didn't him and his father get along? Was it just because he wouldn't let Harry pursue his dream of being a photographer or was there another deeper reason behind it? And what happened to his mom? Both times we'd spoken about his parents he hadn't really mentioned his mother, and when he did yesterday, he spoke of her like she were no longer in the picture. Did she leave them? Was she dead?
Unable to think of anything else, I push the canvas off my lap and place it onto the bed. My gaze darts to my laptop resting on my desk, and without further thought I stand up and walk towards it. Picking it up, I move back to my bed and plop myself down before lifting the screen. It lights up automatically and I briefly pause to see I've still got enough battery left. I was too eager to go get my charger from the living room.
My fingers hover over the keys and after opening up google, I type in Styles Corporate into the search bar before hitting enter. I wait, expecting to see a bunch of information on the Styles family to pop up but instead see links to the Jewelers, Hotels, and clothing lines. I purse my lips at the sight and focus on the third link that is Wikipedia, clicking on it even though they've been known to be an unreliable source. The main picture is the large building in New York City, but when I scroll further and see the words 'Founder and CEO:' I stop.
Alexander Styles.
His name stands out above all else, and without further hesitation I click on his name. The page reloads to another Wikipedia one but this time, a picture of a man who no doubt, is related to Harry pops up. He's sporting the salt and pepper hair and though it's cut short, I do notice a few of the ends curling. His face is tan and he's got smile lines around his mouth, wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, but his skin still holds some youth. His jaw, well it's just as sharp as his son's but what really has me staring is the fact that his eyes are identical to Harry's. Same shape and same exact shade. There is no denying that this man is Harry's father.
His mouth is different and so is the set of his nose, but everything else about him is a replica of Harry. He's good looking, I think as I stare at his picture and briefly wonder if Harry will look that good when he's older. How old is this guy anyways? I scroll further down, finding his birthdate and I silently scoff. Fifty-two. The man doesn't look a day over forty.
Shaking my head, I scroll down the page and click the first and only name that is displayed next to 'Spouse(s).' Rebecca Styles. Waiting again, the page reloads and it shows a picture of a beautiful woman that I know right away is Harry's mother. He looks like her, which is odd because he also looks so much like his father. He's a perfect mix between the two and right away I see that Harry definitely got his smile and dimples from her. Along with her nose and shade of hair. Both his parents are gorgeous, it's not hard to see where he gets it from.
Thinking there isn't other similarities between them that I can find, I scroll down again, expecting to find some information on her but there's not much. Just that she's the wife of Alexander, founder of Styles Corporate and blah blah blah. More information on the company is also written but other than that, all there's left is her location of birth and date as well. But no death date, which could only mean she's alive, right? I could only assume so and I click on images, expecting a ton of pictures of her to pop up but all there is are some of her and Alexander together at events or galas. There weren't even any of them with Harry.
I frown and click the back button until Alexander's page is back up, scrolling until I find the Children section. Harry's name is the only one written there and after hesitating for a moment, I click it.
Only for the page to come up empty.
Literally. There's nothing. Not even a picture of him. All there is, is his full name, date of birth (which I already fucking knew) the place he was born. Redditch, Worcestershire, England, which is cool but not important. And then, his parents names. That's it. Nothing else.
Huffing in annoyance, I slam my laptop closed and toss myself back on the bed. I wanted answers, damnit! I would drive myself nuts if I didn't find out what happened with his mom. Why was there no information on her? Or Harry, for that matter? It was strange to me, especially for a family that owned various companies. His father was always in the public eye so how was Harry and his mother, not?
I didn't know, but what I did is that I wasn't going to find out through the internet. I had to hear it straight from the source, which was why as I glanced at the time to see there was still a half hour left before I needed to go meet up with him, I decided I was going to ask him myself.
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We were sitting in the park, perched on the grass with our backs leaning up against the trunks of opposite trees. My knees were pulled up to my chest, the canvas that had Harry's half done portrait on it resting on my lap. I was staring at it thoughtfully, the pencil I'd been using to fix a few flaws I'd caught, in my hand. The only thing I'd bothered to color so far were his eyes and everything else in the picture was still being sketched. His eyes were surprisingly easy to convey.
Looking at them, I'm reminded of how his father has the exact same ones and I look up. My gaze falls on him, leaning against the tree across from me. His legs are also bent, black jeans ripped at the knee showing his skin there. He was wearing black Nikes today with a black and gray plaid shirt. His tongue was poking out to the side as he concentrated on drawing, eyebrows furrowed and forehead crinkling. I tried not to smile at how cute he looked.
"Harry? Can I ask you something?" I say, breaking the silence that had been between us for the past forty-five minutes. The only sound being the faint laughter from children playing on the playground on the other side of the park. He looks up then, seeming a little startled by my voice as his green wide eyes meet mine.
"Wasn't that already a question?" He asks in amusement, arching his eyebrow as he looked back down at his canvas. "Go ahead."
I bite my lip, hesitating as I watch him slowly move the pencil in his hand as if he was working hard on keeping it steady. "What happened to your mom?"
The lead of his pencil breaks.
He blinks at the canvas, once- twice, then raises his head to look up at me. He straightens his back, moving to rest his head back against the tree trunk behind him. I notice his throat bob as he swallows, tossing the now broken pencil on the ground next to him. "Why do you ask?"
Should I tell him? I guess it's better to be honest..."I googled your family." I blurt and then instantly regret telling him when his eyebrows raise on his forehead. "I just- I wanted to know more about them and I thought since you know, your dad is kind of famous I thought I'd find all the information I needed there but turns out all there is are a few pictures, some boring crap about your dad's company and your birthdays'." I quickly finish and bite down on my lip. "Sorry. I'm just curious."
He stares at me for a long time and I expect him to be mad that I went and looked him up. But he doesn't seem to be. In fact, his mouth is twitching into an amused smirk and he shakes his head lightly before a small chuckle comes out of his mouth. "I can't believe you googled my family."
"I was curious." I defend myself and he smirks.
"Curious people always end up getting themselves into trouble." He says, tone almost reprimanding but he also sounds like he's teasing. It's hard to really tell. "But yeah, you won't find anything."
"Why?"
"I told you, one of the things my dad cares strongly about is status and appearances. He's careful about the kind of shit he spews to the press and always takes care of any potential scandal before it can get out." He pauses and his face becomes serious as he stares distantly behind me. "That's why you didn't find anything on my mum, or me."
"Do you...have something he needed to hide from the press?" I ask quietly, a little afraid with what he might say but it's as if he didn't even hear me. Or maybe he did and is choosing not to answer.
"There was nothing on my mum, right?" He asks and I nod. "Yeah, my dad did that. Made sure all anyone knew of her was that she is his wife and how much she supports him when it comes to the company." He says it almost sarcastically and I frown. "But that's only so people won't notice the truth."
"Is she, not around anymore?" I ask and his eyes cut to mine sharply. I still at the look he's giving me, wondering if I've gone too far with the questions. He's right, curious people do get themselves in trouble.
"She is. But she might as well not be," his tone is emotionless and detached. "My mum's a drunk."
I freeze at his words, eyebrows furrowing. "What?"
"She's a drunk." He shrugs. "Alcoholic. Gets wasted off her ass nearly every second of every day. She used to run charity organizations and now all she does is lay at home, drink, sleep, eat barely, and repeat."
"I'm sorry." I say instantly, eyes wide as I stare at him. God, I couldn't believe I was pushing to find out about her. He probably wanted to keep this information to himself and here I was, fishing for answers he most likely didn't want to give. "I shouldn't have asked you."
"It's fine, Avri." He shrugs. "I don't care."
"You don't? You really don't care?" I ask quietly and he gazes at me intensely, watching me as I move the canvas from my lap and wrap my arms around my knees instead. "It doesn't bother you?"
He's quiet, seeming to contemplate his answer before responding. "No." He says it, but I'm not entirely convinced and I raise my eyebrows. "I don't care."
"It's okay if you do." I tell him and lean my chin on my knees. "She's your mom."
He looks away from me then, turning to stare at two kids who were playing tag on the other side of the park. His forehead is pinched in thought, hands resting limply over the canvas still in his lap as his throat worked with movement. I keep my gaze on him, feeling my breath halt in my throat when I catch him blinking his eyes repeatedly. His eyes are glossing over and he keeps his head turned, eyelashes rapidly meeting his cheek in an attempt to restrain himself from letting tears fall. It makes me feel horrible for bringing the whole thing up and I'm unsure with what to do with myself. He's going to start crying, or at least he will if I don't do something.
In an instant I'm on my feet and walk the short distance between us. He doesn't turn his head but I know he's aware of my movement, his body becoming stiff until I plop myself on the grass right beside him. He only moves to turn the canvas over to keep me from seeing it, placing it on the grass while still giving me his cheek.
"Harry, I'm sorry." I whisper and hesitate before laying my hand over his arm. "You don't have to talk about it with me if you don't want to. Ignore my nosey self."
I catch his mouth twitch but he shakes his head slightly. "No, you're right. I do care, but I don't want to."
Not knowing how to respond to that, I squeeze his arm gently. "Have you tried asking her to quit?"
"Course. So has my dad but she doesn't listen to anyone. She doesn't give a fuck that she's destroying herself or our family. At least, more than it already was." He pauses and finally turns his head only to bow it, looking down at his lap. "You can't help someone who doesn't want it."
"You know, most people who say they don't want help are the people who actually want it the most." I whisper and he looks up at me then, green glassy eyes staring into mine. "They're just too in-denial to realize it."
"Maybe." He whispers and shakes his head. "But she's impossible. Every time I've asked her to go to rehab, all she does is remind me that it was my doing that brought her to this place to begin with."
My heart jumps and I stare at
him in confusion. "Why would she say that?"
He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it abruptly before looking away. "She has her reasons."
I'm quiet for a long time and so is Harry, who leans his head back against the tree with his green eyes staring up at the blue sky. He keeps blinking again and the longer I stare at him, the more I'm seeing him for who he truly is. He's got walls up, just like me and beneath the rude boy who buries himself in girls and the partying life, is someone who deals with the pressure of becoming someone he doesn't want to be. Who's father cares more about his work and what the public think than being there for his son or his alcoholic wife. And who's mother chooses a bottle of liquor over piecing together the broken heart of her son. Because that's what Harry is; he's broken.
He's just better at hiding it then I am.
And knowing this now, I do the only thing I know how to and lean my head on his shoulder. I feel him go rigid by the contact but ignore it, slipping my arm around his and hugging his shoulder to me. It's the best I can do without me crossing the lines of friendship, though I'm thinking this might be too much as well. But I don't care, all I care about in this moment is making him feel better. Because if there's anything worse than a rude Harry, it's a sad one.
He's frozen at my touch but I don't push him or ask if it's okay because I know it's not. I merely hold onto him, staring at the view of the park in front of me as I do so. His breathing is slow and after a few minutes, I feel his body relax beside me. It makes me smile in triumph, and thinking he's alright now I begin to pull away. But I don't get far, because before I can fully pull my arm out from between his, Harry's hand is clasping mine. He tugs on it, gently pulling me closer to him and my eyes instantly fly up to his. He's looking down at me with an unreadable look but my body goes completely still when he lifts his other hand to carefully push a strand of my hair away from my face. My heart speeds up in my chest and it's like I'm holding my breath as he lets his hand linger against my jaw. I don't know what to do but my stomach is in chaos when he cups my cheek and leans closer. Green eyes holding mine as he bends his head until our foreheads are almost touching.
"Avriella."
He whispers my name and by now, I'm pretty much having a heart attack because this has never happened before. Sure, Harry and I have kissed plenty during sex but never like this. Not in a public place and not when romance was involved. This felt different. Like-like, we had feelings for one another. Which I had already admitted to myself but did that mean he could possibly feel the same?
My brain is a mess with thousands of questions, but the moment his lips skim mine it goes silent. Quiet, and peaceful. I don't think about anything else, only Harry who presses the lightest and gentlest kiss on my mouth. His lips are soft and warm and, Christ, it feels so different compared to when he kisses me in the middle of sex. I'd take a thousand of these sweet ones over those any day.
He's gone before I even have a chance to really kiss him back but it was enough to halt my breathing. I open my eyes slowly, dazed and confused as they meet his. My heart is pounding hard in my chest and now loud in my ears as he stares at me, before dropping his hand from my jaw. He pulls back and though he's still sitting close, I know he's trying to pull away emotionally as well. Just by the way he looks the other way and swallows hard, like he wants to pretend what he just did wasn't a big deal. But it was.
"Thank you," he mumbles after awhile and clears his throat. "For listening."
"That's what friends are for." I tell him and when he still refuses to meet my eye I shift away. "Maybe we should call it a day and-,"
His hand comes down on my thigh to stop me. "No." I pause and he stares at me with a vulnerable look on his face, visibly swallowing. "Can we-, can you just sit here with me? For a little while?"
I stare right back at him and when he lightly squeezes my thigh, I know being a friend to him is more important at the moment than what that kiss could have meant. "Okay."
I sit back beside him, keeping my hands to myself. Yet just when I think he might of regretted that kiss, he reaches out and pulls me closer. Wrapping an arm around my shoulder while his other hand moved to intertwine with mine. Fingers closing behind my palm and squeezing like he's afraid I'm going to run away. I squeeze right back to reassure him that I won't, and I think he gets it when he sighs almost in relief. His head moves to lean against mine, only I feel him turn his head so that his nose is touching my temple. I don't move to look at him but feel every bit of the hope that might of shredded when he tried to push me away after the kiss, piece back together when he ever so gently kisses my cheek. Whether he did it out of friendliness or something more, I don't know. Whatever it means, its enough for now.
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Double update! Love me :)
Questions:
Any new theories on Harry's background now that you've gotten more info?
Favorite part ? ;)
Vote + comment! The First Lost Boy is next on the update list so be patient! Thanks for reading :)