Harry Styles Imagines and Preferences Book Two

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"This can't be happening," you choked out, your eyes quickly filling with tears as you stared down at the pregnancy test.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" The front door slammed behind him as you both stepped into the house.

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare try and blame this on me!" You threw your bag down on to the couch in a fit of frustration.

"Blame it on you?! It's your fault! Why the fuck would you do that?!"

Positive. How could this have happened? You knew how it happened, but how could you let it?

"I didn't even do anything!" You yelled back at him, your hands balling into fists at your sides.

"You didn't do anything?! Sitting and flirting with every single guy at the table was nothing?!"

"Have you lost your mind?!"

You don't know where it started to go wrong with Harry; every little thing turning into a fight. He wasn't the same man you fell in love with; staying out late night after night, coming home drunk and angry, picking different things to fight with you about.

"I saw you do it! You were sitting right next to me!"

"I'm done with this conversation, Harry."

It was just one of the few fights that had led you to call it off, to walk out of his life.

"Are you drunk?" It shouldn't have surprised you; it was the third night in a row this week. He laughed, shaking his head as he stumbled up the steps.

"Of course not," the fits of laughter continued as he took each step with an unsteady lift of each foot.

You could feel yourself fuming, your eyes watching as he made it to the top. "I can't believe you. It's one in the morning!"

"Okay? What, do I have a curfew?" He turned to face you, his eyes hooded.

"Maybe you should since you have absolutely no self control! I'm so sick of you doing this shit every night!" You stormed back into the bedroom, angry at his nonchalance for the situation.

"Maybe if you didn't nag me so much I wouldn't have to! You drive me crazy!" He followed behind, already tugging at his shirt as he stumbled to his right. You decided to stay quiet, letting his drunken state speak his truthful words.

"All you ever do is criticize every move I make! No matter who I talk to, who I'm with! You're never happy with what I have to offer!" His voice grew louder, his fist connecting with the wall behind him.

You shouldn't be surprised, you weren't. He was always angry when he was drunk, never had any self-control.

"I can't stand you sometimes! I can't do this anymore!"

"So why are you still here?" Your voice betrayed you; wanting it to come out sturdy but disappointed as it cracked.

"This is my house," he spat, his eyes dark as he spoke the not so slurred words anymore. "If you don't like it, you know where the door is."

The words fell from his lips easily, almost like he meant to say them. Of course he did, drunken words were always the hidden truth.

You didn't hesitate to climb off the bed and grab the sweater hanging behind the door, quickly throwing it on. You grabbed your things off of the dresser, shoving them into your bag before throwing it over your shoulder.