Chiller (harry styles)

20: What Possessed Me

I don't know what possessed me to come, but here I am on a sunny afternoon, standing outside Big Pete's with my hands in the pockets of my jacket, as if I'm waiting for some unbidden weather to arise.
And perhaps I am. Harry is nothing short of a massive tornado, a wicked hurricane, a wild tide on a small island, and I can't seem to get enough. He haunts my every thought, reminds me of him in every little thing I see. How can one person some one just meets have so much influence on their life? Being with him feels like my own personal drug addiction. He is the drug and I am the crazy devotee. Together we make magic, magic for the mad hatters. It's wrong. I'm wrong. And if my father found out I was here he would kill him. Not me, but Harry, because in his eyes I am just a child who needs to learn discipline and manners. Everyone else who pisses him off is a criminal, a scoundrel, or pure competition. But I don't care. I like Harry. A lot. And I will risk seeing him. It sounds insane, and it probably is. I've only known him a short time, but I can't shake the image of his ragged bandana and ripped jeans, shake the feel of his lips on mine, his rough hands touching me, caressing me like I'm freaking Aphrodite. It's unhealthy how much I think of him throughout the period of a day.

A sliver blue light is casting down from the sky as I walk up the door, then halt, spotting a strange shadow on the other side of the building where the walls are wedged next to an old abandoned warehouse. I walk fast to the edge of the building, and tilt my head to the side. Harry is on the other side dressed in pure black leather and a white t-shirt. He's wearing sunglasses, his foot resting on the pedal of his bike, and his head is thrown back in anguish or tiredness. Did he know I was coming? Did he have the same idea as me? I cautiously step forward to speak to him, but something stops me. Another figure runs up the opposite alley, eyes wide and yellow and bleak. As the figure gets close I recognize him instantly. It's Luke Hemmings. His face is tragically maddened, his hands flying up like out of control kites in the air. They look nearly as thin and deflated as bad noodles.

"What the hell are you waiting on, Styles?" He calls out to Harry.

I shiver, my spine feeling like cold ice is trickling down it. This is not the same Luke I have met before. Something has changed. Somehow he is different. His words are cruel and hard, and his motivation appears deadly, like a snake preparing to strike a victim. Except Harry is no victim. Harry is just another snake. Another snake but with sparkling emerald green eyes.

Harry huffs, then kicks his foot away from the bike and leans against the wall of the pool house.

"Shut the hell up, Luke. You're not you when you're with Molly." Harry hisses.

Molly? Who's that?

Luke bares his teeth and a deep and disturbing sound escapes his throat.

"I'm done with her...she makes me feel all lucky and shit, but she's bad. She's a bad egg." He retailates rudely, the sound of it sneaking into the air like vapor venom.

Luke draws his words out like a drunk man.

"You know what? I don't care what you do, man, but you have to quit that bullshit. People are coming here too much, thinking you have some. This is our place. Same guys all the time. I hate newcomers. I hate when people try to get in when they're not welcome." Harry says, sounding angry.

Luke swipes the air with his arm like he's trying to hit an enemy with a fake sword.

"I'm sorry, but people love it. People love me when I go out and Molly is with me all the way to the party. They know I'm on her so they want it." Luke tells Harry, and nothing he just said makes any sense to me.

Harry seems to get it though, because he shakes his head rudely and points his finger at Luke as if he is an errant child.

"I won't put up with it. I can't have people out of our group coming in on a normal basis because they're a stupid drug addict. I can't have people asking questions." Harry tells him.