baby [h.s.]

eight

Silence. For fifteen minutes, the two of us sat in silence. His body was hunched over as he sat on the couch, and the fingers on his left hand twirled the rings around the fingers of his right. I couldn't tell what he was staring at, but his head was down.

And, as I sat, perched on the armchair beside him, my frustration grew. Where was my explanation? Did he expect me to sit and go along with this?

I couldn't stand to sit there and say nothing any longer.

"What just happened?" I said. He didn't move; it was like he didn't hear me, and that caused my irritation to grow. My mouth pinched together.

Thirty seconds passed and there was no reply.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, standing up. I didn't have to sit here with him if he wasn't going to provide me with the information I needed and deserved.

My strides were long as I marched towards the door, and I heard him sigh as I reached for the doorknob.

"He's a guy that works with a rival business, I told you," he said before clearing his throat. "He was just trying to mess with me, no harm done,"

I turned to look at him; he was standing up by this point. "Didn't seem like it,"

"Yeah, well, I was just being too intense," he shrugged. "We weren't in any danger,"

I didn't believe him. He acted like he was scared for his safety, and scared for mine. "Whatever," I muttered as I began to turn around again.

"Wait," he said. My eyebrows scrunched together.

"What?" I snapped. I had no reason to stay if he was going to lie to me, which he obviously was doing.

His lips pinched together at my mood. "Stay here tonight,"

"Why?"

"Because it'd make me feel better if I knew where you were,"

I felt my face grow hot in anger. "Why do I need to stay if we were in no danger?" I snapped. He didn't respond. "Tell me the truth here, Harry,"

He sighed, throwing his hands up. "Okay, fine, the guy is a bit reckless and really hot headed. I'm more successful than him, and he gets jealous of it, so he tries to take it out on me. I don't doubt that he'd go after you, since you were with me tonight,"

My shoulders slumped. Though I felt like it wasn't the full truth, it was what I was looking for.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He sighed, chuckling a bit. "I'll make you a bed on the couch, I just don't trust him,"

"Fine," My tone wasn't as sharp anymore. Instead, I sounded defeated.

In five minutes, he had created a bed on the couch for me. I wasn't anywhere close to helping him; he didn't deserve my help.

"Thanks," I said, my voice emotionless, when he finished. Glancing down at my attire, he shook his head.

"Do you want some pajamas?"

I looked up at him; his green eyes seemed darker. He was tired. My gaze flickered to my jeans, and I nodded. "Just some pants,"

He disappeared down the hall, but returned almost immediately, tossing some sweatpants and a hoodie my way. "Bathroom's the first door to the right,"

I followed his instructions. The bathroom looked as the rest of his flat did; untouched. You wouldn't have even thought anyone used it if it weren't for the shampoo bottles in the corner of the shower. The tiles were a clean grey color, and the faucet heads were very sleek. The architecture of the room itself, though, was similar to mine.

Quickly, my legs slipped out of my jeans. The sweatpants were large; I had to roll the waistband over a few times. Eying the sweatshirt, I wiped off my makeup. It was quite cold in here, so he was most likely just thinking of my comfort.

It was a kind gesture. I sighed, feeling that I was being too harsh on him. It was my business, then he gave me the answers I needed; no longer is it in my interest.

He was seated on the couch with his head leaned back. His eyes were closed and slow breaths caused his chest to rise and fall.

"Thank you," I mumbled. I had pulled the sweatshirt on; the sleeves were far too long, falling past my hands, and the body was large as well. But it was comfortable.

"It's not problem," he breathed out. His eyes remained closed. In this peaceful state, I could still see that he might be tense, or frustrated.

But I had to remind myself that it was none of my business.

"I could make some tea," I offered. My weight shifted from one foot to the other.

"If you want," he said. "All the stuff's in the kitchen, kettle's on the stove," Wordlessly, I tiptoed to the kitchen. His kitchenware was very elegant.

It took me five minutes to brew two mugs of tea; the stove was difficult to figure out. It had far too many knobs to turn.

"What kind is it?" he asked upon my return. I handed him his mug.

"Some cinnamon thing you had in a cabinet," I responded, taking a seat on the end of the couch. Harry sat on the other end.

"Sorry for being so rude tonight," he spoke after a few minutes. "I was being a dick,"

"Yeah," I didn't even try to deny it. "We all are sometimes, it's nothing to apologize for,"

"I think it is,"

"Well, then you can apologize," I shrugged. "It happened, and it's over,"

He remained quiet for a few moments. "You're not one to dwell,"

I laughed. "No, I'm not," I blew out a breath. In the position I was in, I couldn't dwell. Even now, now that it's done, I won't dwell.

"My entire life is basically dwelling, holding grudges, revenge," he trailed off at the end. My eyebrows scrunched together. "Goodnight, Tilly," He patted my knee and got up. Before I could reply, he had walked down the hall and closed his door.

Harry Styles was an entirely different species that I could not understand. Cryptic as he was, he just made me want to crack the code even more. I just wanted to know what went on in his mind; what did Harry Styles run on?

It was a language that he had, and one I couldn't read. And as I fell asleep, that's all I could think of. The language that was so foreign to me.

yeah yeah yeah i haven't updated in ages i'm sorry. and it wasn't because zayn left, but that was hard for me as well. but i'm not going to talk about it.

hope you love what i'm doing with the story. sorry it's so short bc i know it is. i'll update this weekend

love you all lots, comment and vote. i love it.

becca