[ hi ] h.s.

▒Chapter Six▒

▒Chapter Six▒

I stare at the boy positively dumbfounded.

"Hi" I respond curiously after a momentary silence.

His frightened expression melts away immediately, replaced with a small smile of relief.

"Who are you?" I ask, taking a brave step towards the boy. Somehow I don't find myself frightened as much as intrigued by his presence. He actually looks rather welcoming despite his tall frame and muscular arms that are visible through the thin material of his white dress shirt. How is he not freezing in here?

"Harry" his voice croaks, as crazy as it seems, he sounds like he hasn't spoken to someone in years, "Harry Styles".

"Well Harry Styles, would you like to enlighten me as to why you are in my attic?" I question, quirking my eyebrow up to a point.

His gaze instantly disconnects from mine, the hardwood floor seeming to now absorb his interest. I notice his shift in weight from one foot to the other and he annoyingly begins to fiddle with his thumbs.

"Were you in here last night? You were the shadow I saw weren't you?" I continue to throw more questions at Harry but I feel I am perfectly qualified to do so, I mean he is in my attic in the middle of the night.

I study his face, which I've noticed is extremely beautiful however his expression is beyond difficult to understand.

"You didn't tell me your name?" He voice sounds, much like hot butter sliding down the warm surface of hot toast.

I breathe out, slightly irritated by his lack of response to my own questions but I answer him nonetheless, "Adeline" I cooly answer.

His, dare I say, enchanting lips tweaked upwards forming into a smile.

"I like that name" he comments, this time in a more comfortable tone.

"Thanks" I say with a small smile.

Harry may be a little odd but he seems pretty harmless.

"So, why are you in my attic?" I ask for the second time. I move closer to him and as I do I feel even colder, the atmosphere surrounding him is arctic. It must be the area of the room we are in.

He shakes his head, curls flopping innocently from side to side all the whilst laughing. He has a nice laugh, one of those sounds that you could listen to all day on repeat and not get bored of.

"What makes you think this is your attic?" He cheekily states as he moves his back to the wall, he slides down before outstreching his long legs in front of him. He looks like a child.

"Unless your name is either John or Essie Wilson and you happen to be at least seventy-something years old, then I regret to inform you that this attic does not belong to you"

Again, he laughs and smiles and I find myself smiling at the sight altogether.

"You're funny" he compliments with an endearing smile.

"And for the record, no my name is not John or essie and no, I'm not in my seventies" he states just as I walk over and sit cross-legged on the floor opposite him.

"How old are you then, Harry?"

"Eighty-eight, Eighty-nine in January" He states with a serious expression, causing me to laugh. Sarcasm must be a trait of his, I conclude.

"You look well for your age" I compliment humorously causing his expression to morph into an amused one.

"Not as good as you" he remarks.