Oblivion | Harry Styles

Chapter 40.

5 days before.

Harry's POV.

December 27th.
December 28th.
December 29th.
December 30th.
December 31st..

Fuck.

5 days.

And I don't have a fucking clue on what to do. If we do go, that could end in hell, if we don't, that could also end in hell.

Fuck.

Sitting here like a fucking lump on her couch, watching her in the kitchen with her mum and the smile on her face, it soothed me. I was glad to know that she wasn't worrying about this party as much as I was. Maybe I was paranoid? Maybe we would walk in there and not even see anybody the whole night. We could spend the whole party upstairs locked in a bedroom.. That would certainly be more entertaining than drinking and watching other people vomit all over the place.
Maybe I'm overthinking this, how bad could it be? I've dealt with worse and plus, I know this situation from the inside. I wasn't paranoid of them hurting her really, because if anyone even lays a fucking finger on her, off goes their head easily. I was paranoid of her possibly figuring me out.

Once she knows what I've done, who I am.. Or who I was, she won't ever be able to forgive me. She loves me loads and says there is no reason that could possibly deprive her of her love for me, but I know her.

I know what would happen and it is a day I know will come sometime. I just hope not soon.

If days in hell are numbered, then I know days in heaven are. And fuck, do I know about days in hell being numbered. If only I could count the days I lived on this Earth without her in my life.

I wished I never would have joined that stupid fucking trafficking facility in the first place. Granted I've only been in the main warehouse once and as soon as my eyes met with the pleading gray eyes of a young girl on her knees, blood on her hands and bruises forming on her cheek, I left almost immediately. Yes, I have taken advantage of women for money in the past, but I have never ever thought to lay a hand on one.

I never really had a dad or a mom to teach me how to treat people, so I basically deal with this asshole act. I kinda just started treating people the way people used to treat me, and things seemed to go great for a while. I wasn't mistreated anymore, and people became afraid of me, my guard was completely up and no one was knocking my wall down. Until she came.

There was something about the blue of her eyes. The first time I saw them they reminded me of the girl in the warehouse, even though hers were a paler gray blue, there was more than just innocence behind them. There was a certain brokeness behind them, a pleading soul that I couldn't figure out but wanted to, so badly. The first thing I noticed about her when I first met her was that she was a very open person, yet her eyes held a different story. She was very open with her life, and with her past but it wasn't until I paid attention to her every move, her every habit and her every word that I finally understood her. Of course, we were in love but we were still figuring each other out, officially. I can't say I've completely cracked the case of the brokeness behind her eyes, but I felt like I didn't need to. I know that I know her better than anyone else ever will and that's something that will never change. Nobody else will take the time to watch her from afar, just to learn her habits. Nobody else will watch her sleep almost every night, just to learn which side of the bed she likes to sleep on. Nobody else would be willing to sit in front of her for hours, doing nothing but sitting in absolute silence and staring into her eyes just to figure her out. Nobody but me will ever be wanting to know her as well as I do. They could try, but they wouldn't succeed.
I was never a fan of the idea of "falling in love." It's just a shitty idea and I took it upon myself to learn that when you're in love, you get hurt. It's inevitable.