~Close your eyes and picture the warmth of the sun on your skin... that's how being loved by her felt~
Harry Styles is a nepotism baby turned new father, left clueless with a newborn baby to raise, he is overwhelmed and under pressure. Matters are...
TW- very brief mentions of SA/ other various topics
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Finally finishing my shift, I clock out and place my clocking card back in its slot next to the machine before quickly rounding myself up.
As I sling my jacket over my arm, I spot the grumpy man in the corner.
Amos is asleep against his chest but the stranger is no longer rocking him. On the table in front of him is an almost empty bottle of milk. Only an inch or so left over from his feed.
I take a second, letting myself observe him as he leans forward with his baby tucked up under one arm and his other elbow resting on the table. His chin sits in his palm, meanwhile his eyes skit around the room filled with both boredom and curiosity.
In particular, his people watching eyes land on a little family huddled in one of the corner booths. There is a mom and dad who are cutting up their children's food for them. Two little girls and a toddler who is standing on the leather booth seat and towering above his sisters while the mom tries to convince him to sit back down.
My eyes land back on the mystery guy, seeing how he is now talking to Amos. I'm not close enough to hear what he said but I would pay good money to know.
Most likely some snarky comment about the uncontrollable child across the diner.
I take that as my cue to waltz on over and find out what this guy has waited an hour to talk to me about.
"Hey." I chime out as I approach, making sure to not raise my voice too much and wake the sleeping baby. "Can I sit?"
"I don't know, can you?" He doesn't take his eyes off the family table in the corner so I ignore his sarcasm and make myself comfortable in the seat opposite him.
"So I haven't got long because I have to rush back to the girls. My brother is watching them for me so goodness only knows what kind of mess I'll be walking into and I need to obviously make sure they have dinner and-"
I see the uninterested look on his face and so I slump down in the seat and shut up. "Sorry, what is it that you wanted to talk about?"
He hums, slowly tipping the mug of coffee that he keeps refilling despite claiming it tastes like "ass".
My fingers find the black her elastic tied around my wrist in case the one in my hair broke throughout the day. The nervous tick comes out and I begin plucking at the elastic so that it snaps against my wrist over and over in a pattern of six times.
The burning feeling is minimal but it is bold enough to be able to distract me from incessant thoughts that are plaguing me about what sort of trouble Roe and the girls could be in right now.
Everyone knows that I worry excessively but sometimes it just gets so overwhelming that I need a physical sensation to override the anxiety.
The stranger looks at me, Amos is sound asleep in one arm with his head tilted and resting on Grumpy's shoulder. I can't help but look away, especially when Grumpy starts to pinch his bottom lip, rolling it back and forth between his thumb and index finger.
