bella [harry styles] a.u

Chapter 6

AnnaBelle

I was given clothing by Harry, much to my relief. I was no longer cold in just a bra and knickers, having a big sweater that I assumed was Harry's over my torso and a pair of fluffy pants that looked like they belonged to a girl for bottoms. I had no idea why he had the bottoms, but decided not to question it, knowing it wouldn't do me any good. I was more than grateful when Harry gave me a pair of pink, soft socks to wear, also looking to have belonged to a girl. Did he have another girl living here?

When I followed Harry downstairs for dinner, I quickly realized just how big his house was and held in a gasp at the long staircase leading to the first floor.

"How old are you?" I asked softly, after building up just enough courage to ask the question for a good two minutes.

"Twenty-five."

"Oh."

So, Harry was old. Like seven years older than me. And sure, it freaked me out even more and I slightly regretted asking him the question, but it was nice to know, sort of.

Harry pulled out a chair for me when we entered the dining room and I was a bit hesitant to sit down, staring at the cushioned wooden piece of furniture. Harry placed a hand on my back for encouragement, silently telling me to sit down and I sighed, but did so.

"I just have to get the food." Harry kissed my cheek before leaving the room. He didn't have to tell me to stay put for I was going to anyway, not finding any purpose in trying to run with him in the other room. I played with the ends of my sleeves as I watched Harry put a plate of food in front of me and another beside mine, probably for him.

"Is this good? Do you want anything else? Will that be enough?" Harry was suddenly fussing over me and I shook my head silently, signalling that I was fine. He breathed out a heavy sigh of relief before pulling out the chair beside mine and kissed my forehead before seating himself.

It was strange how Harry would just kiss me, like he cared or something, when in fact, if he actually cared, I wouldn't be here in the first place.

I noticed the strangled glare Harry was giving me because I wasn't eating and quickly picked up the fork beside my plate, not wanting to lose the clothes I had suddenly grown accustomed to. There was dark meat on my plate like I had told Harry I liked, but I was a bit startled when I noticed it was cut up, too, like I was three years old or something and couldn't cut my own meat.

"I don't want you around a knife, it's dangerous." Harry seemed to notice my confusion and spoke up, placing his hand on my thigh from under the table, causing me to instantly freeze. "Don't worry, it's only for your own safety."

"I'm eighteen years old, Harry!" I exclaimed, suddenly getting annoyed with his persistence to treat me like a small child and saying he'll protect me. "I've been using a knife since I was like, what, seven? And I think I'm perfectly fine! You don't have to cut up my food and you most certainly don't have to keep me here! I don't even know you!" I shouted and if it weren't for Harry's hand on my thigh tightening by the second, I would've been standing up by now.

"Bell," Harry warned, his teeth clenched and his sudden calm and composed demeanour slowly fading.

"I just want to go home." I whispered, trying to make sure I wasn't going to get into too much trouble with Harry because I refused to be naked in front of him, a stranger.

"This is your home."

"No, no it's not, Harry. I live with Jack, my home with Jack is my home, and he's going to come find me." I insisted, shakily trying to stick to the idea and thought that Jack was going to come find me.