fight for control ↠ harry styles [b1] ✓

CHAPTER 42

Renleigh Kensington

I have had a stressful couple of days behind me by the time Thursday rolled around. The New York people played around with me like I was their little doll, they took up my time then dropped it like it didn't matter. It frustrated me greatly, so much so that I had no time to focus on the finalisations for the project with Malik. It was due to be released next January, there was only a month left and therefore I knew I had to make that my priority.

Then again, I guess I had something else to make my priority, right?

Well, someone else.

Styles.

Our conversation with regards to what will happen after this month is over was long overdue, then what happened after the funeral was something else, we had to chat about. Not that I wanted to. Both things were in the past but I knew he would not let them go until we went over them. Styles was all for talking things out and I was all for leaving the past where it belonged – in the past.

I had breakfast with my brother at our usual spot. Whenever I was with him, it didn't appear to be awkward or forced, no matter how much time we spent apart and not in contact at all, we always picked up from where we left off. It was nice to know we were able to be this way as opposed to holding it over the other's head.

This time, however, I couldn't help but feel a bit of tension between us. I couldn't pin point what it was, but it was there.

"Are you gonna be at dad's birthday party this weekend?" Brandon asked curiously. I knew it would come up between us soon enough. It was only a couple of days away. His question caused a heavy sigh to leave my lips, my lungs filled up with oxygen as my chest rose then emptied as it fell. "Look, I know that you... don't feel comfortable around Ja-,"

"Don't," I stopped him. I picked up my glass and took a sip of my drink so I didn't have to talk.

"You are gonna have to tell them, Ren," he pressed and I gave him a stern look. Of course, he would say that. But little did he know that our parents never listened to me. "I can only do so much..."

"This is not your battle to win, OK? I can manage," I let him know. "I have this far, I can keep doing it until he gets to smell the flowers from six feet under."

"But maybe if you spoke to-,"

"No," I interrupted him. "No, Brandon. They don't listen and it seems like neither do you."

"I'm sorry but maybe if you tried hard enough, they would hear you."

I scoffed and gave him the dirtiest look. I didn't want to fight with my brother but for some damn reason he decided he wanted to dance on my nerves and I didn't like when people did that.

"If you want to cut this breakfast short, just say it."

"That's not it, Renny. I'm just so annoyed that you let these creeps touch you."

"Yeah, you clearly don't listen, either," I mumbled. "I'm gonna go and pay..."

"Ren, don't," he sighed. "Stop."

"I don't want to listen to this, so I'm going to go. I have other places to be."

"What, do you have to run home to Harry Styles?" he asked me with a smug facial expression, his voice mocking. "Listen, I'm sorry, OK? I just hate that you won't tell anyone about dad's stupid friends-,"

"Brandon, I'm not sure what part you don't understand of that not working. At all. I have tried – countless times – to tell someone about what happened. I have, alright? From the first time it happened. But it didn't work. Those old fucks kept doing it then people in public did it too and I'm just tired of talking if it won't get me anywhere. So, before you want to blame me for it, think about that, yeah? Words won't get you nowhere in life without solid evidence."