Scandal // h.s au

nine: "Your writing story."

They were driving to the Banks' residence, to see all nearby surveillance cameras. He seemed lost in thought, as he was most of the time, and she just watched him. Every blink, every inhale, followed by a deep exhale, every time his jaw locked and released. It was the little things that added to his mysterious beauty.

" Can I ask you something and receive a normal response to it?" She spoke, earning an entertained smile from him, before he nodded.

" What's with the toothpick?"

" What do you mean?"

" Most people don't need to have something between their teeth at all times."

" That's a very accurate observation indeed."

" I thought we agreed on a normal response." She rolled her eyes and he laughed.

" This is as normal as they get for me." She sighed, as defeated as she was amused.

" I used to bite down on my lips a lot, sometimes even drawing blood without really paying attention to it. From there, I turned to cigarettes, but I have a very bad case of asthma so it didn't really work for me. Zayn then suggested the toothpick solution and it worked, and it's become a habit of mine ever since."

" And you quit smoking?"

" I did indeed."

" Because of your asthma?"

" Not necessarily. You see, when you normally can't breathe, or when you don't exactly want to breathe, it doesn't bother you when you can breathe a little less." She couldn't help but frown at the morbid feel to his words. She bit down on her lip, trying to figure out how to follow that.

" What else Miss Montgomery?" His smile hadn't faltered yet, eyes focused on the road.

" Why did you stop then?"

" Because it wasn't cutting it for me. A smoke wasn't some magical release, it just suffocated me further, without getting anything out."

" What did you -"

" Can I ask you something for a change?"

" Of course."

" What's your story?"

" Well, I'm an only child, my mom had complications through giving birth to me and they had to perform an emergency hysterectomy, and that's why they never had any more babies. Mom was a -"

" Not your life story Miss Montgomery," He laughed, before continuing, " your writing story."

" What do you mean my writing story?"

" Everyone has a story behind why they got into this field, so what's yours?"

" I think I started writing when I was eleven. You see, my father was an online blogger, and I wanted to know how he could word others' thoughts so accurately, and how he managed to form a crowd that found something in what he wrote, patiently waited for what he would have to say and all that. I became the star writer in my class, won several competitions for my school, and then went to college and became everyone's favorite. Teachers liked me because I was good, students liked me because I could help. But then after college, it was almost impossible to find a job in the field that satisfied my ambitions. Until this one came along." He listened intently, nodding when needed, or humming to let her know that she had his attention.

" So, that's why you were so upset when I didn't like your article. You're so accustomed to everyone praising you and I was the first to put you down." His tone held no judgment whatsoever, it was strictly amused.

" I guess so."

" Journalists don't guess, Miss Montgomery. They collect facts, they build theories and prove or reject them, but they certainly don't guess."

" Yeah, well, what's yours then?"

" My writing story, you mean?"

" Yeah."

" Well, as a kid I was quite the explorer; I wanted to find out more about everything, about why people lived the way they did, why our neighbor drank till we could hear him throwing up every night, why my mother always cried when she yelled at my father, why he was always sickly and frail, why I suddenly couldn't see him anymore. It was all so depressing but intriguing to me and I wanted to know more. Once I did, I wanted to unlearn all the things I knew. I didn't want to know that my mother was cheating on my father as he was dying of liver cancer. I didn't want to know that he knew, but never talked to her, because he thought she needed the escape. I didn't want to know that my mother was literally speeding my father's death in order to marry that other man. I didn't want to know any of that, but I did. And there was no way for me to take it back. I realized that you either know nothing or know too much. There is no in between really. So, I moved out after my father passed, worked as a waiter, went to local college, then found myself this job as an office boy in this journal and I had been at it since."

All through his speech, his voice had maintained its stability, its neutrality, that smile prominent on his lips. She could almost picture young Harry, writing all his findings in his personal journal, crying through those young, green eyes of his, that had witnessed too much for his age.

" That's why you couldn't forgive your girlfriend once you doubted her."

" Sadly, I'm not as patient nor as forgiving as my father was."

Her hands fell upon his, caressing it tenderly as she swallowed away the regret lumping in her throat. She could understand him a bit more now. He always wore sunglasses because it had always been so dark for him that he couldn't adjust to the mere sunlight. Or normal glasses, because he had to filter his surroundings, see them through his own window and choose what to focus upon and what not to. He always wore coats because he was cold, down to his very bones. He rarely spoke because he had so much to say and so little energy to say it. He was a mystery of his own, that he thought no one could care enough to understand.

She couldn't find any words at all that would do him justice, and she was afraid, if she opened her mouth, cries would escape before words could. He tilted his head to the side, smiling reassuringly at her, before refocusing on the road.

" We're here, Miss Montgomery."

Her eyes fell upon the house, surrounded by yellow tape, with officers crowding its large area. He gave her hand a slight squeeze, opening the door and walking to the other side of the Banks' house. He tilted his head to the car, almost as if asking her if she was coming. She opened her own door, rushing down the road and intertwining their fingers, letting him know that she always would.

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a/n: this is probably one of my favorite chapters because we're now let into their stories a bit, so let me know what you thought please, it means more than you know :)

ily x