Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

81

Harry Styles

I yelled at her.

I can't do this whole thing, whenever something is going good it always gets messed up because of me. I'm not capable of this, not any of it. Why do I have to be such a dick? I shouldn't scare the ones I love. Besides, I've never really ever been in love with anyone besides her so it's hard to act right. But I can't even begin to start making excuses, I fucked up and scared her.

I always fuck up.

I hope she still sleeps in our bed tonight. I hope I can love her and hold her till she falls asleep, maybe she'll even be calm enough and so deep into her resting state that she'll start murmuring muffled things as her head lays on my bare tattooed chest and I twirl her brown hair around my ringed fingers. It's like a fever dream, if I could go anywhere I'd be there doing that with her. It's better than sex, well.. maybe sex is a close second. Then kissing her is running for third place, both types of her lips always feel so warm against my own.

That's how I know that I love her. I'm always thinking of her and my mafia, she never leaves my mind. She never leaves, she's always there and she constantly follows me everywhere I am. I can't sleep without dreaming of her, I can't get high without thinking of her, I can't even talk without speaking of her. I'm convinced she's a built in part of my brain, like I'm wired to her. She was my daydream, the lady I always thought of. And she was also a nightmare, someone forbidden that I shouldn't love because I kidnapper her. My little twisted fantasy. I'll never get out of this, she's haunting me with her presence and she doesn't even have a clue.

She'll always be here.

She never leaves.

My lovely addiction.

I think so highly of her, nobody compares to Bree. I don't know what makes me love her so much, I just do. It could be those eyes that I deeply stare into when I need to see something magical. Might even be those brown and straight strands of hair that I twirl my fingers around, I wonder what she'd look like with curled hair? Probably just as pretty. God, or that smile, that silly grin that makes my stomach flutter with sensations for which I can't explain. Or maybe it's her personality that drives me off the edge. Her sweet, seductive, innocence, funniness. She knows how to stand up for herself, and she knows how to back down. It is like someone rewired her to be perfect, so why is she with me? I'm not perfect, she should be with someone who is perfect, someone perfect just like her. Someone who can give her everything she wants, someone who isn't afraid of watching scary movies, someone who can take her on normal exhilarating vacations, someone who doesn't have to sneak past her to go out, someone who doesn't lash out and immediately regret it, someone who doesn't have to worry about writing a will, someone who doesn't ever lie.

She's the only good thing this fucked up universe came with.

"Harry?" She perked and broke my consecutive thoughts, looking into the bedroom as I laid flat on the bed. I may have seemed like I looked angry right now, but I was just reciting in my mind about how much I loved her, about her perfectness.

"Bree." I said, a little too happily like I hadn't just been angry and screaming at her three hours ago.

She walked over to the bed, making me thankfully sigh that she was even still talking to me three hours later.

"I'm sorry, Harry." She swallowed, rubbing her nose with a slight sniffle. "I s-shouldn't have stole those papers from you, it was a mistake and I didn't think you'd yell at me like that."