Pure

forty three

Two days ago was the birthday of my angel.

Louis William Tomlinson.

I love you.

Thank you for being such a big part of my life.

You make me happy.

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Lucy's POV

Everytime Harry loses his temper over the smallest things, it makes me question what's going on in his head. Sometimes I feel like something is wrong with him. Does he have some sort of issues he didn't tell me about? Anger issues? Mood swings? Other problems that happened in his past? Sometimes I feel like I don't know Harry at all. Maybe it's because it's the end of December, and it is cold. Maybe he's worried about the new year.

"Did you move my toothbrush?" I had asked Harry earlier when we just ate our breakfast.

"No, I did not. Why?" he replied without any emotion in his voice.

"I can't find it anywhere." I huffed, searching around in the bags, "Have you perhaps seen it somewhere?"

"No, I have not."

"I'm sure I packed it in my bag. Have you seen it in yours?"

"No."

"Harry, can yo-"

"No! Goddamnit!" he threw whatever he was holding on the floor in anger, or frustration, maybe. I had no idea what was going on in his brain.

"Geez, sorry." I rolled my eyes, "Did you get your underwear in a twist or something?"

"No! I fucking didn't."

"Don't swear at me. I didn't do anything."

"You did! You're asking a lot. Stop asking so many fucking questions."

"I was just-"

"Yeah, asking where your goddamn toothbrush is. I don't fucking know okay!"

"Harry, you need to calm down."

"Don't fucking tell me what to do. You're not my mother."

"I'm not, but I am your girlfriend, remember?"

He had taken a seat on the bed again, his hands disappearing in his hair. He looked frustrated, and I had no idea why. I still don't know why.

Everything I say or everything I do, no matter what it is, he just seems to get so mad and irritated. His eyes grow big and get dark and he has this big frown on his face, where his eyebrows are so furrowed, the shadow of it would conceal his eyes to the point where you wouldn't even be able to see them. And his hands. His big hands are balled into a fist. Knuckles white. Fingernails almost digging into his own skin. His shoulders would be broad. His tall figure trying to hover over you to make you feel vulnerable and small. The look in his eyes making it seem like he wants to kill you.

It scares me.

I know Harry as a good man. Bubbly and funny. Well, at least he tries to be funny. He makes awful jokes. He's handsome and has a soft look on his face. His unruly long curls pushed back so that it's not in the way. But when it does, he shakes his head very cutely, messing his curls up even more with his hands, and then he combs his fingers through it, pushing it to the right hand side. Harry can be dorky and very horny. Yes, horny.

But now it just seems like he's changed or something's going on. There has to be something, but he doesn't ever want to talk about it. It's not even that he doesn't want to, I don't get the chance to ask him about it.