Fool's Gold ¥ Niall Horan ¥

07

[IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS]

[I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO THINK ABOUT THIS CHAPTER BC I WAS SO EXCITED TO WRITE IT THAT IT MIGHT SEEM A LITTLE DRAMATIC BUT PLEASE STAY WITH ME BC I LOVE YOU AND IT CAN'T BE THAT BAD RIGHT? I DON'T LIKE DRAMA THAT MUCH]

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The day that Harry Styles is found crying over what he says is nothing, is the day that I get to sharpen my swords. That day, is the day that I give my soul to the devil and beg for him to ruin someone else's life. That day, is the day that someone gets all the bones in their fucking body broken.

That day, is today.

I was just so peacefully living my life as a nobody like I would every other day and invited Harry over. By this point it should be clear that I'm an overprotective bitch. Of course that when his voice sounded shaky and funny over the phone, I found it really suspicious. Naturally, I decided it would be best if I went over to his place and see for myself.

So here I am. Fucking perfect.

Do you know how hard it is? To find him practically yelling at himself and telling himself that he's worthless? To find scratches and bruises on his face and body? Do you know how difficult it is not to snap at him yourself, and slap him for even thinking that? Do you?

I really don't think so.

"Can you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you? Jesus Christ, Harry! Who the hell did this to you?"

He groans in pain, touching the most damaged area where he was hit on his face. "I told you to leave me alone."

"I'm not going to. You tell me who did this, and I leave. I will turn around and forget this ever happened. If you don't tell me, I'll hunt that person down and make their lives a living hell." He knows I'm lying, because God knows that whatever his answer is, I'll still hurt whoever did this much damage to my best friend, possibly the only man who's ever cared for me and possibly the only man I've ever truly cared for.

"I don't need you to fucking baby me, Andrea. I can take care of myself." He's speaking to me through gritted teeth. It intimidates me honestly, but I don't let him see that. Harry isn't naturally a violent person, but when he's angry, he's really scary and the way he towers over people is enough to make my heart pound hard against my chest out of pure fear.

"Really? Look at yourself Harry! What happened to you? Your eye! Oh my god, your eye." He tries not to grimace when I step near him and touch his flesh to examine his eye. The skin around is turning purple and his eyes are a puffy red from preventing himself from crying.

I'm tired of this. I'm tired of seeing him cry. I don't fucking want him to cry.

"I can take care of myself." He repeats, slower and more firm.

"No, you can't. Harry, I'm giving you one more chance to tell me. Who did this to you?"

His voice cracks and he lets out a bitter laugh, nostrils flaring. "You really want to know?"

"Obviously I want to know."

He's mocking me now and the sour smirk he holds makes me want to shrink and cry in a corner with my knees held to my chest. He looks like an entirely different person. I don't want him to be like this. This isn't my Harry. Where's my harry? "Okay. You did it. There. Happy?"

I think my breathing stops, and I suddenly feel claustrophobic under the roof of his house and the four walls of his room. He's lying. He has to be... "Wait, what?"

"This?" He points to his face and laughs again, almost accusingly. "Is your fault."

"But-"

Never, in the nine years of my life that I've known Harry, has he ever shut me out. I guess there's a first time for everything because he turns his back on me and plops down on his bed. He turns so that he's resting on his side, facing the other side of the room instead of looking at me. "Just go away,'' he mutters.