vegas | H.S.

s t a l k e r t e n d e n c i e s

a/n: above is what Niall's office might look like? (It's back for those who commented that it was not there). - dani xo

c h a p t e r t h r e e

h a r r y ' s p o v

It's almost cynical how much she has sent me into a confusing spiral.

Around the prospects of my home, Martha always sought to please my every need; whether it be to gain the richest chocolate located across the region, or finding a particular person. I was not used to the denial.

After she nearly injured my hip when I collided with the desk, the aftertaste of rejection was purely sickening.

A few days have passed since she last stepped inside this room and as deranged as it may resonate, her perfume of a vanilla scent still haunts me. The section near the door is coated with it, and it proves the reason why I haven't left, under certain circumstances.

I've spent a duration of my time peering through the only window in my chambers, overlooking the scattering amount of people doing God knows what.

My mind plays mystical tricks on me; sometimes I presume that I see her pacing back and forth on the pavement, but to only realize it is me, in reality.

"This is pitiful," My fingers shoved through the locks of my unkempt curls, attempting to channel my focus to the problem.

Vegas.

"I must get out of this room."

"Yes, you shall," I hadn't noticed that Martha opened the door, standing in her usual attire. Her hands were folded in front of her in the neatest manner. "Mr. Horan has called about a meeting,"

"What meeting?"

"He would like to organize your ideas for the novel, and meet with the woman that came here," She reported.

I've read before that if someone makes you delusional, you must come face to face with them to rid you of your experience. Perhaps, this is the reason I need to move forward with my routines of life.

"Tell Rick to bring up the car," I ordered, taking a few steps towards the compact closet that held most of the suit jackets I wear.

Out of options and time, a simple black blazer would be more suitable for this encounter, thus the reason I snatched it from the hanger with a rushed fashion.

Harold, all you need to do is discern her, and everything will return to its normal conditions.

No matter how unstable you may be about the situation.

. . .

"Mr. Styles, the pleasure is all mine,"

I've been to this office only once before. It was virtually a year ago, under one occasion. Since then, my duties have been regulated by the royal court.

Mr. Horan's appearance has not changed. Every feature is exactly the accurate to the way I previously envisioned him. With a firm shake of our hands, we settled in his office.

"Thank you for joining me under such short notice," His hands rested on the surface of his neatly stacked papers, and other organization tools. Compared to my workstation, this is heaven.

"I am pleased to visit, Mr. Horan,"

"That is great. I will bring in your editor," The telephone's receiver retrieved a short conversation, or list of commands that he supplied to the person on the other line. When the talking was through, he returned his attention to a waiting figure such as myself.