Flicker (H.S)

04.

04.

“On August 5th, 2016, Styles’ accomplice, Niall Horan, was found dead. A neighbor to Horan phoned into the police department after smelling an awful odour from his home whilst walking her dog on the pavement outside. She suspected drug activity. Not murder.

Horan was found in his bedroom, one week after being killed with a white rose instead of Styles’s signature red and Harry’s name carved into his throat. Niall Horan is currently buried in Mullingar, Ireland, close to his family.” - an excerpt from Biography of Harry Styles, written by Gretchen Quinn. [Published October 19th, 2017]

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Everly was pissed off.

Because Harry smiled and Nicolas laughed and her hand stung like hell as it cracked across his cheek. And she was going to fail this assignment. No doubt about it. So Everly was pissed off.

“Is that all you got, darling?” The smug arsehole asked, an impeccably annoying smirk plastered on his lips. “Because I can do a whole lot worse.”

Everly raised her eyebrows and tried to hide the shaking of her hands. “Oh yeah? You’re gonna hit me in the middle of a primary school lunch room?” Her arms folded across her chest in fake confidence. “Have fun rotting in jail for domestic violence.”

At the words, his undeniably green eyes widened and his adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed. With surprise Everly watched and his posture lost its defensive stature and became more… sad. Yeah, that’s the word for it.

Harry looked sad.

But Everly was pissed off, so.

“You thought I was going to-” he cleared his throat and looked to his shuffling feet. “I, um, I wouldn’t hit you. Any woman for that matter. I’m not that big of a douche.”

From beside them, the incredibly cute five year old who prefers Nick but answers to Nicolas gasped. Both of the teens looked down to their newest project as he covered his mouth with his tiny hands. “That’s a really bad word.” He spoke, his voice muffled into his palms. Harry just chuckled and Everly looked at the kid a little longer because he was still holding that damn green crayon, even when his hands were up to his mouth. Has he let go of it since she’s been here?

“Do you have a ride home, Nicolas?” She asked, crouching down to his level and ignoring the way Harry pulled out his phone and plopped back into the chair. She wasn’t done talking to him. It seems like she’ll never be done talking to him, unfortunately.

The boy with the mop of curly blonde hair and green crayon clutched in his fist shook his head. And then Harry looked up because like, who leaves their five year old alone, let alone without a ride home? “Mummy said that she will be back on, um, on… Wednesday I think?”

Everly furrowed her brows together and blinked a few times. She heard Harry get up from his seat and listened as his boots clacked against the tile of the room. Finally, he’s leaving. And that’s a good thing. You know, probably.

“Do you know your address?” She questioned, sitting down on the bench. They were small little tables, making her knees come up to her chest but she didn’t mind, really. Because Nicolas was comfortable but he didn’t have a ride home and Harry was leaving and she has mixed feelings on that. Because his eyes were pretty, you know, kind of. He was a douche though and she slapped him and he deserved it.

“I think so.”

“Do you know your mum’s telly number?”

Nicolas stuck his bottom lip out as tears welled up in his eyes. “Does this mean that mummy doesn’t love me? Because she didn’t tell me her telly number?”