Rupture // h.s au

12. "What do you do?"

Autumn

That night, after Raine had left us to wait for her father to come home from his mission, Harry and I dwelled in silence. I laid on his rather large bed, resting on my back because the slightest of all movements still caused me great pain, pain that I didn't allow myself to feel, nor reveal. While, he laid on a chair, his legs resting on his coffee table, a lone candle lightening the utter darkness caving in on us. My mind was restless, as I attempted to analyze the mystery that was Harry. He had been taking care of me for days now, because apparently, I was in and out of consciousness for three days straight. He had offered me his bed, the safety of his home, allowing me to intrude, without once complaining, or asking for some sort of payback. It was almost as if he had forgotten that I was the enemy; never to be trusted. His forgetfulness kind of made me want to forget too.

" Styles?" I called into the humid air surrounding us. He was silent for so long, that I had assumed he was asleep, or still playing the silence game with me.

" Griffin." He firmly responded, his voice deep with unattainable sleep.

" Why did you bring me here?"

" I didn't."

" Then who did?"

" I really don't think you should be the one asking questions."

" Then who should?"

" That's still a question, Autumn." He groaned. I heard slight shifting coming from his corner of the room, but I chose to focus my eyes onto the dull ceiling, that somehow, felt as if it was closing in on me.

" Fine, answer my questions, and I'll answer yours."

" That's not how this works."

" Don't be a stubbornass. You know this is more than you'll ever get out of me."

" Oh is it now?"

" Yes, it is."

" I wouldn't be so certain if I were you, Zayn has quite the techniques." I tilted my head upwards slightly, watching as his lips formed into a confident smirk, his body leaned forward, his shoulders broad, un-hesitant, proud.

" What, you'll let him torture me?" I dared to ask. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown, one that I found myself desperate to fade away, as he drowned into the thoughts that crowded his loud mind. Finally, he lifted his gaze from the ground, looking directly at me.

" No." He honestly replied, and I was both relieved, as I was confused.

" I don't get you, Styles."

" Not many people do."

" No, but this is my job. This is what I do. I read people. I know their weakness, get inside their heads, and, well, break them." My shoulders weakly moved into a shrug, so accustomed to my job, all it required of me, all that it took away from me, every single time.

" That doesn't seem like a dream job to me."

" Dreams are useless. They are your mind's attempts to deceive you into believing in some bullshit world, and once you believe in it, attach yourself to it and all it offered you, once you think you're almost there, your mind forces you to wake up, and you're left with absolutely nothing. I don't dream, Styles."

" Then what do you do, Griffin?" I couldn't help but smile slightly at the last name he so effortlessly offered.

" I kill. I destroy. I rule."

" And?"

" And?" I lifted my head upwards again, watching, as he brought his chair closer to the end of the bed, making himself visible, so that I wouldn't have to exert any effort to look at him.

" And what else? Your life can't possibly be about ending others'. This can't be it." He shook his head in rejection, as the realization hit me. This was really it. I was an instrument of destruction, a weapon, but that was all I was. There was no depth to my being, no other aspects. There was nothing more than the undefined rage at the world, those who made it, and those who kept it alive. Nothing else. He must have noticed the widening of my eyes, because he released a quiet "oh", settling back into his chair.

" Wow." I breathed, after we fell silent again.

" What?" He curiously questioned.

" I really have nothing to me more than that. I'm just... I'm a gun, or a knife, or whatever we use to kill someone. I'm what tears families apart, what takes people away from their loved ones. Shit, that's really it." A humorless laugh went past my lips, as my whole worthless life flashed in front of my eyes.

" You can change that, you know, do something more. You're strong, you're fearless, and that can take you far. Doesn't necessarily have to swing you to the bad side."

" No, I think I'm good. Some people were meant to be good, others just, weren't."

" So you're telling me, that the bad should stay bad, and the good should stay good, and no one should ever try to get better?"

" Why fight the inevitable?"

" Then why do people take treatments when they're sick? Why do people fight for their life? Why is this happening right now, if at the end of the day, you'll die, and so will I?"

My eyes left the safety of the ceiling, falling onto him. His posture was stern, unmistakable, his eyes glowing under the candle's light, but still seemingly darker, as it was nighttime. His hair hung loosely on his shoulder, and if anything, he was beautiful.

" Well, because... just, because, Harry."

" That makes no sense."

" The world doesn't have to make sense."

" I don't give a shit about the world, I'm talking about you."

And I had to force myself not to overthink the meaning behind his blunt words.

" What about me?"

" Why do you have this will to surrender? Why are you so strong when it comes to everything, but not when it comes to saving your own self?"

" Nothing to be saved."

" Then fight!" He rose from his seat, seemingly infuriated by my surrender.

" Nothing worth fighting for."

" Yes, there is. There always is, Autumn."

I decided I didn't know which I preferred, to be called by my own name, or my last name. I liked them both equally, when spoken by him.

" All fights are meant to be lost, Harry. At the end of the day, the world will end, we will all die. The only difference is, whether we'll die now, or ten years from now. And who would ever want to lengthen his stay in this fucked up world?" I watched his eyes widening briefly at the usage of his first name, before he recomposed himself, staring at me, with his mouth opened agape, but no words ever daring to come out.

" Goodnight, Styles." I said, with a half-smile, as I closed my eyes, willing myself to fall back into the blissful darkness, hoping and praying that his eyes wouldn't haunt me, yet again.

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A/N: 1k reads before next update? :)

ily x