Rain | Harry Styles

0.5

'honestly she needs a little lovin', fuck it now i'm gettin' off the subject.'

(the walls - chase atlantic)

-

I ran my fingers over the delicate stitching of my comforter, exhaling as I looked up at Harry.

"It's not a big deal, you know," I murmured, trying to study his expression for any sign of emotion. He'd been silent since the pieces had finally fallen together - he was Celia's son.

"I know," he replied quietly, his gaze burning through mine as it always did - the intensity sending a shiver down my spine.

I wasn't sure how I hadn't pieced it together when I first met him. The unmistakable accent; Harry - 'Haz' - his upbringing (though he didn't go into the same detail). It had just never crossed my mind.

"Why did you keep it from me?"

"It's not that I kept it from you," he kept his gaze on me, playing with a loose thread on his jeans, "Just never came up."

"But I just don't understand why it's a big deal, Harry," I was sure I had a puzzled look across my face, but I simply didn't understand, "Your mom is like family to me - I don't see why it matters."

"I don't know what you expected," he grumbled, shaking his head, "I met you two days ago - what was I supposed to say? 'Hey, I'm Harry Styles - my mum butters your toast in the morning'," he said sarcastically, and I scoffed.

"Harry, don't be ridiculous. I don't understand what your problem is."

"It's embarrassing!" he stood up now, raising his arms in frustration, "don't you get it, Ana? Look at you - look at this place. I shouldn't be here. My fucking mum works for you - she's your maid. You pay my damn bills; fuck," he breathed, lowering his tone as I stood up.

"Harry, stop," I said softly, lowering his arms with my hands.

"You must think so fucking lowly of me," he said quietly, his gaze burning into mine again.

"I don't," I promised him, releasing my grip on his arms, "I don't."

Harry let out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

"I don't care about any of that," I continued, "I don't care what you have and what you don't. I don't care if you have a job, I don't care if you live in a mansion or in a box on the side of the street. I don't care if you have a ton of money, or if you don't. I don't care."

We remained in silence for a moment, and I took a step towards Harry, looking for some kind of response.

Before I knew it, his palm was pressed to my cheek - the skin of his hand rough, but warm. I kept my eyes on his, before letting them flutter shut as his thumb traced a circle on my cheek.

"Okay," was all he murmured in response, before dropping his hand from my cheek. My skin burned from where his hand had been, but I ignored it, grabbing my bag from the floor.

"Help me with this Chemistry homework?" I attempted to change the subject.

"I won't be much help, Ana," he forced a grin, but took a seat on my bed once more.
I opened up my textbook, Harry shuffling so he was beside me, his knee pressed to mine. Immediately I bit my lip at the heat of his skin, despite being through his clothes, against mine.
"Is this the homework from Monday?" he asked lowly, resting his hand on his own knee. I nodded, and he picked up the book, his eyes studying the pages with slightly less intensity than they did when he was reading a book.

"I don't understand any of this," I sighed, resting my hand on his shoulder to look at the pages over it, his broader frame obstructing me.

"S'not that hard," he mumbled, concentrating on the page before holding out his hand. I passed him a pen, and he placed it between his teeth, tapping his fingers on it in thought, before scribbling down notes I couldn't distinguish on the pages in front of him.