Saving Styles

Maybe

Hannah's POV

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling as I went over the entire night in my head. Was I that dumb that I'd completely misread all of those signals? Had I completely misjudged him? Was he really just your typical dickhead who slept around and spoke to girls like they were beneath him? I didn't want to believe it, because I really did feel like under it all he was who I thought it was, but it was so hard to believe when I kept replaying the way he spoke to me in my head. Then again, I kept replaying how he had defended me against that creep, and the way he insisted on me wearing his jacket even though he was clearly upset with me. I just couldn't make sense of any of it.

His words kept playing on repeat through my mind.

I see you, Hannah.

The look in his eyes was something I hadn't seen before. They were...desperate almost, like he needed me to believe him. The worst part was, I did. I did think he saw me, and it absolutely terrified me. We haven't known each other long, but he seems to understand things that nobody else does. I've been explaining to people my whole life why I hate it when people say I'm the best at softball and nobody ever gets it. I know it seems stupid and trivial, but the way Harry just seems to understand means a lot to me. He understands something about me that nobody else does, and that's something no other guy has ever done. No other guy ever even paid enough attention to know what bothered me in the first place, let alone understand it.

There we so many things about him I didn't understand, but I felt like I saw him too. I knew who he was, I could tell by the way he treated the people around him, his protective nature and inherent goodness that he didn't seem to see in himself. I knew he wasn't good at expressing himself with words, but he did it in other ways that spoke much louder than words ever could.

I'd been going over the things I'd heard Brian say about his past since I'd overheard him and Ashley arguing that day. It made sense that he'd been through something painful, it was in his eyes. There was always something there, like he was fighting some inner battle trying to be happy but something kept pulling him back. The way the other boys seemed to all have an understanding of it, the way Brian and Zayn had just appeared when Harry was about to get into it with that guy, or the way Brian and Niall had looked at each other that day when Luke was blowing up my phone, they all knew each other better than I knew was possible. That kind of understanding could only come from something that forced them all to stick together that way, the kind of bond people form in life and death situations or something intensely traumatic.

Whatever it was about Harry, I was shocked at my inability to stay mad at him. I felt absolutely no bad feelings towards him, even after what he'd done with that other girl and the way he'd spoken to me. If anything, I felt bad for him because it was so obvious to me that he beat himself up harder than I ever could. I just wish I knew why, maybe then I could understand the things he did.

The sun was coming up when I finally dozed off, unable to keep my eyes open. I woke up a few hours later to my head pounding and my mouth feeling like I'd been walking through the desert. Niall strikes again. I opened my eyes and smirked to myself at the fact that drunk me was smart enough to put a bottle of water beside my bed so I didn't have to get up.

I chugged the water and laid back down, sinking into my soft pillow as I heard Ashley banging around in the kitchen. I groaned to myself as my stomach growled and I slowly peeled myself from my bed and stumbled into the kitchen.

"Well, good morning sunshine." Ash laughed as I slid into the booth in our kitchen crossed my arms in front of me on the table, resting my head on them. "I have to say I was surprised to see Harry come back to the pub last night, I thought for sure I'd be making him breakfast this morning too by the way you two were eye fucking each other." She laughed.