Note To Self (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Sixty Four.

Days had passed, the world resuming on into normalcy. Sunday and Monday zipped by in a blur of the same old same old, and Harry landed himself at the record shop after school Tuesday afternoon. The everyday sales to the same few people were made, because Harry had quickly learned the names and faces of regulars. He noticed, when clocked in, he was a lot less shy than his usual self. Working gave him a confidence he lacked outside of the shop walls, and therefor made it easier to make friends with the passing faces throughout the evenings.

Tuesday evening was no different, besides being unaware of the argument being had at home between his parents. Completely, blissfully unaware of the yelling voices and the accusations. Unaware of the anger and feelings of betrayal, the threats, the broken heart of his mother and the confused one of this father.

He didn't know until 8:30 when he pushed his way through the front door and dropped his things to the floor just as he always did, stepping into a silent home. Silent as it always was, and everything was the way it should've been, so he thought.

"Harry."

His father's voice cut through the quiet smoothly, and Harry suspected nothing when he followed the sound into the doorway of the living room. He found his father sitting in his chair, rocking the recliner softly with one foot while his opposite was perched on his knee. He looked tired, but held no emotion on his face when Harry's smiling face peered in at him. "Hey, dad."

"I need you to sit," he spoke, and the graveness in his tone stirred something in his stomach Harry was sure was going to taste bad. His smile dropped.

Harry made the move to the couch, tossing a balled up sweatshirt on the end as he passed by before wordlessly settling on the cushions. Winnie was missing, he realized. Out for a walk in the dark with his distraught mother, but he wasn't aware of any of that. Harry didn't dare speak with the sudden serious tone he'd walked into, a feeling of uneasiness draping over the entire household. Harry's eyes landed on a chew toy in the middle of the carpet -- Where's my dog?

"I need you to listen to me, and I need you to be honest," dad spoke, and Harry's stomach twisted some more.

"Okay," he breathed, but the unsureness leaked into his voice.

"Did you have someone with you when I let you use my car?"

Harry could've thrown up. "Liam."

"Someone else," he pushed.

"No."

Nervously, he watched his father rub at his temples with fatigue laced heavily in the action. Harry tried his hardest to keep himself from bouncing his knee with anxiousness. "Harry, I need you to not lie."

"I'm not lying," he lied.

His father fell silent. Harry's blood pressure was through the roof and his sweaty palms could've given his secret away if his father had just looked at them. The dampness was wiped on the edges of the couch cushions, and balled up fists tucked themselves beside his thighs. He watched the man settle both his feet on the floor and rock himself in the chair, an ominous feeling emitting off his body. He seemed stressed. Not angry, but inexplicably stressed in a way Harry had never seen before. The man lived under continuous stress, to the point where it may as well have been a personality trait, but this was different stress. This was soul crushing stress.

"Listen." The word came out as more of a sigh. "If you tell me the truth right here, right now, I promise, with whatever you did, you will not be in trouble. Be honest and you're off the hook."

That was a big, fat lie. Perhaps even a bigger lie than all the lies Harry had ever told combined. He was smarter than to fall for that trick, because he'd done it countless times before in much, much less severe situations.