Ambition || Harry Styles

*35*

I have spent the last three weeks preparing the long list of all the things I want to say to Harry, hoping that he would call and I would be able to get pent up hurt and frustration off my liver.

My feet storm towards the front door, ready to give him an earful, possibly not letting him step foot in this apartment again without a fucking amazing apology and explanation, my patience and acceptance wearing far too thin.

As the door swings open my breath is stolen from my lungs, my mind cleared and my pulse thumping a little bit harder when I am confronted with the shocking state Harry is in.

The anger that had started to replace the pain over the past few weeks vaporises almost instantly and the original concern I had about his welfare takes its place - this time with good reason.

It's now blindingly obvious that whatever is happening is more serious than Harry just being a shitty friend or being callous with the feelings he knows I have for him.

His green eyes are dark and vacant, the sunken circles around them almost the same colour indicating a severe lack of sleep that might be borderline dangerous.

Soft curls fly around the crown of his hairline as the bulk of his long hair is swept carelessly in a messy knot on top of his head and his usual pink, pouty lips are unusually chapped and dry.

The colour is drained from his face, Harry's skin pale and lacklustre and my stomach flips at the thought that he may have spent the last three weeks incredibly sick, as I had once feared.

Meeting my gaze, there is a pain in his eyes that is so clear my heart kicks in my chest at the unspoken but immediate realisation he isn't ill, but in some sort of trouble.

"Harry," is all I can breathe out no louder than a whisper and he bites the inside corner of his mouth to fight back tears that seem to be building.

His eyes dart to the floor in an attempt to compose himself and it gives me a chance to scan his body, not sure what I'm looking for but trying to find any rips in his clothing, bruises, cuts in his skin.

It might be a reach but my mind is whirling with crazy scenarios and worst possible cases, my attention focused momentarily on finding a clue, perhaps even a bandaged wound to indicate whether he is in some sort of physical danger?

I come up short, however, the mental and emotional suffering on his face is clear as day.

Harry takes two slow, cautious steps towards me, his arms carefully wrapping around my waist as I let the door close behind us and he is quick to bury his face into the crook of my neck.

His breath is trembling and unsure and I can feel him sigh ever so softly as he relaxes against my body before he finally croaks, "M'sorry Lexi."

He clears his throat a little but it doesn't help the broken raspiness of his voice, "I had to go away and couldn't contact you."  He retracts so I can see the sincerity in his tired eyes, the emotion so evident on his features when he declares, "I didn't have a choice."

I pull him closer, feeling suddenly the urge to protect the completely broken man in my arms. Perhaps I'm foolish, but I wholeheartedly believe him.

Inching back to comb my hair back off my face, his eyes search mine as if he might find the right words swimming somewhere beneath the surface.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he confesses cryptically.

"Harry, are you hurt?" I run my open palms up his chest and hear him suck in a shaky breath before I rest them on his shoulders. "Are you in danger?" I ask the most important questions first.

"No, it's not like that. But-but I'm into something too deep," he hesitates before continuing.  "I want to get out but I-I can't.  It's too late," he admits, his gaze flicking up to the ceiling to help control the helpless tears that well.

"Harry, you can tell me," I coax softly and my stomach drops when he shakes his head in dismissal.

"I would," he whispers as he presses our foreheads together and closes his eyes. "I want to, baby, but it'll make it worse. Please, trust me. I can't risk anything happening to you."

My brow creases in confusion and I have a million questions that I know will go unanswered so I change tact, offering support rather than an interrogation.

"S'okay. It'll be okay," I give him perhaps false assurance, taking in a deep breath for him.

"Stay," I chirp nervously, worried he might disappear again, the thought of the unknown too terrifying so instead, I hold on to the present.

He licks his dry lips and nods softly, my heart leaping simultaneously as the anxiety eases a fraction, "Can we just watch a movie?"

"Of course," I tell him, knowing this is his way of telling me he doesn't want to talk and I am relieved enough that he is staying here for a while and hopefully out of harm's way.

Taking his hands in mine, I guide him towards the couch, his body remaining closer than normal as he toes off his boots and lays down.  He doesn't hesitate to pull me into him and his arms find their way securely around me as he rests behind me, his heavy breathing indicating just how exhausted he is.

The movie we aren't watching plays and my body hums when he seals a slow kiss to the back of my neck. My skin reacts to the somersaulting in my stomach by erupting in goosebumps when he presses another to where my neck and shoulder meet.

"Missed our Friday nights," Harry mumbles into my skin.

"Missed you," I admit.

It doesn't take long before his body becomes lax, his breathing falling into a steady rhythm and the tiniest pattering of a snore tickling the back of his throat.

I decide not to rouse him or usher him into the guest bedroom, the thought of depriving him from more of the sleep he clearly needs driving me to instead, drape a blanket over his long body and take myself to bed.

Harry doesn't wake for fifteen hours.

A/N:

Surprise! A little update for you to celebrate 100K reads!!

I can't tell you how much your support means to me.

Also, I've said it before but if you are not reading Aerial by peanutboyfriend you are not living!

Love Ruby

x