Hidden Secrets // H.S

Chapter 6

Harry Styles

I stare at the many other flats that look exactly like the one I'm in front of. I knock on the white door, taking a step back. I look behind me around the cloudy scenery, narrowing my eyes as I look at the sky.

I haven't been to the UK in ages. I never thought I'd come back here. I wasn't planning on it.

Until I received a call one night. I never thought I'd ever hear her voice again. I never thought I'd get the opportunity to see her again.

The door opens and she stands there suddenly. She looks at me unsure, not recognizing me instantly. Her face forms into a smile and a sigh of relief escape her lips. "Hairbear."

I scrunch my face at the old nickname, opening my arms. "Lainey."

My older sister embraces me in her hold in a swift movement. As I hug her, I feel small again. I feel like a little boy hugging his older sister again. I feel her warmth again. She's my older sister again. It feels like almost nothing has changed. All that's changed is our new heights. Although she's my older sister, she feels so small and fragile in my grasp.

She pulls away from our hug, still keeping me in her arms. She looks up at my face, scanning it. "You've changed."

I scan her face, noticing how more mature she looks now. The same big green eyes. The same rosy cheeks. The same dark brown hair that is tied back. Her eyes seem more tired. Matter of fact, she's developed a few wrinkles, but I can't tell her that. "I could say the same for you."

We let go of each other, still standing in the doorway. "Well, Harry, I've birthed two kids since we last saw each other."

"You wouldn't believe the shit I've been through either." I exhale, digging my hands into my pockets.

She steps aside, "Come in."

"What's with the hair?" She asks before leading the way.

"I'm growing it out," I answer.

I step into her home, immediately noticing how many toys take up her home. "Excuse the mess." She says as she leads me to the kitchen, "There's no such thing as clean when you have toddlers."

I walk into her kitchen and take a seat at the round table. She places a glass in front of me, "Do you still like chocolate milk?"

Taken aback by her question I look up at her with confusion. I'm twenty-six. I haven't drunk chocolate milk since I was a kid. "Sure."

She fills my glass with chocolate milk before taking a seat across from me. I haven't spoken to her in five years. I don't know what to talk about with her. What do we even talk about? We're not the same people anymore. I'm no longer twenty. She's no longer twenty-two. She's not the same girl I last saw. She's married, she's a mum, she's a grown woman.

"You called." I break the silence.

She nods. "I did."

"How'd you get ahold of me?"

"I always kept in contact with mum. She mentioned you forgave her and I asked her for your number." She inhales a breath, "I heard about everything. I saw the trial. Mum filled me in on the rest that the media didn't say."

I nod, "I don't want you to pity me for all of it."

"I won't." She quickly says. "I know you don't like others pitying you."

"Then why'd you call me here?"

"Well, Harry." She exhales out loud, rolling back her shoulders, "We're the last ones left."