Harry Styles was the biggest star Hollywood had to offer. Stealing hearts, collecting trophies and dominating the music industry.
Now? Harry Styles has fallen off the charts, his movie deal is cut off due to his irreparable reputation. He's proving...
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When I woke up with a pounding headache, I honestly expected to see Zayn stretched out beside me, handing me a cup of dandelion coffee and making fun of me for whatever embarrassing thing I did last night.
That's our weekly ritual.
What I didn't expect to see was a slumped over figure on the far side of my loveseat in my room. The sheer lavender curtains were drawn open and my window was pushed far out, creating a breezy morning and an ethereal glow. Golden rays sprawled over the mysterious person.
Their body was covered with a red suit and a white undershirt, black heeled boots were crossed over each other loosely, meaning they were asleep. In the utmost panic, I never really know what to do. I react slowly and stupidly.
So, it's no surprise to anyone when I rush out of my room - ignoring the ache in my head and my whole body - and swiftly grab a chef's knife from the kitchen. I glance at the mess of my apartment and decide it's a problem for later.
Maybe I can get Zayn to clean up for me, if I didn't do anything to piss him off last night.
My eyes catch an objection the middle of the floor, the closer I get, I recognize it to be my chameleon.
There was little Violet, sitting in my green popcorn bowl, eating whatever crumbs she could get her tiny, lavender hands on. I run my hand (without the knife in it) through my hair with a sigh as I walk over to her little body trying to escape the bowl.
I gently pick her up and follow her with my eyes as she climbs my body, finally deciding to rest her feet on my shoulder and her hands in my hair, in a standing up motion.
"Hey, pretty girl." I coo, "Sorry I was so out of it last night. But I bet you took really good care of mom, right?" My question goes unanswered, obviously, and I roll my eyes as I remember the reason I came down here in the first place.
A stranger was in my personal space and I need to get rid of them.
I turn to Violet with a frown, "You can stay on mom's shoulder as long as you protect me... okay?" Taking her silence as a 'yes', I trudge my way up the stairs shakily.
The second floor of my apartment was way bigger than the first floor, meaning it had its own living room next to the bedroom and a balcony that wrapped around the entire top floor. This would be the best apartment if it weren't for the horrendous, squeaky steps you have to trek to get to the bedroom.
Fifty-Eight stairs in total. Yes, I counted.
I push open the brown door leading to my room and find it empty. There was a soft blow of wind from the now partially shut window, and my bed was neatly made - which wasn't how I left it in my hysteric haste.
Now, slightly more alarmed than before, I raise the knife from my back to the front of my body, facing it outwards.
Who the fuck just breaks in peoples homes to sleep on their sofas, make their beds and wanders around their house? Shouldn't they be trying to kill me or something?
