DRAG - [h.s. au]

30

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I know you'd rather be scared off

I know you'd rather just disappear

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BENTLEY

TW: suicide mention/baiting

It had been four days since we decided Harry would go to Madrid to handle things on his own. The issue was that we couldn't get a hold of Luna. We had filled Z and Rumer in on everything and they told me how they'd be in Madrid, so if Harry needed anything from them, they could help.

I had just finished my shift at work, cooked Dorian and Apollo dinner, and went home and showered... It was around 12:45 when I finally sat down to watch something on my laptop when I had to get up to get Harry from a meeting with Luna's bodyguard. He had his car confiscated again since I beat him during our race last night.

At least that's what he told me in the text he sent, telling me to get him a few blocks away from some building downtown and I was looking for his tall body from my car but I didn't see him anywhere until I turned the corner. He was in a long sleeved shirt again, with jeans and sneakers and I wondered how he covered himself so much in the summertime. It might be 1 AM but it was already mid June and still hotter than ever.

"Aw... is Harry grounded again by big bad Luna?" I tease, rolling the window down, watching as he slumps into the car.

His eyes were bloodshot and he was breathing a bit unevenly but I didn't say anything about it. His hair was a little damp but it looked like it was from a shower. He smelled like fresh soap, and his stubble had grown back a bit. He looked handsome as ever... and crabby.

"What, you aren't going to tease me back?" I say, and he keeps quiet. "Harry?"

He clears his throat, and I start driving, the silence suffocating the two of us. "Are you just going to sit there?" I say, stopping at the red light.

"Just drive, Ben." He whispers, as if his voice was weak.

I roll my eyes and keep moving until we get to the building, and I park in the garage. Harry gets out of the car before I even get the chance to turn it off, and he walks quickly into the hall.

Yeah, I'm not doing this shit tonight.

"Harry, what's going on?" I ask, following him closely after jogging and catching up quickly.

No answer.

"Harry fuckin' Styles... I'm talking to you." I say, my voice thickening with annoyance, watching him click his lock open and storm in.

My eyes widen at the sight of his apartment. We hadn't been together in a few days because of how busy we were, and the place was a mess. Sour candy wrappers on the ground, a few rifles scattered around, his bed was unmade and the pile of dirty clothing was in a neat pile in the corner. His brown stained shoes were dyed a violent red, covered in blood.

The sink was filled to the brim with dirty dishes, and there were a few beer bottles on the counter and coffee table, along with a book. There was a rag and a bottle of some chemical on the coffee table as well, which I assumed was that knock out cocktail he used on Steakhouse Steven.

His computer was wide open too, and still on. I step in behind him, closing the door and following him.

"Harry." I say firmly, and he looks at me, and I notice his green eyes are lined in red and they're harsh as he avoids looking into my eyes. His jaw is clenched, fists collected at his side as he drops the bag he was holding on the ground. "Quit being an ass, and say something."