Art | Harry Styles

33

TW.
PLEASE BE MINDFUL BEFORE READING ON.
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"Harry! I didn't see you come in!"

Harry's eyes follow the sound, as he slowly lifts his head from Sophie's shoulder, broken out of his own little daydream.

"Elle," he smiles warmly, "hi."

"You look good," Elle remarks, as if Sophie isn't sitting right beside Harry and can't hear every word she's saying.

"Oh, um - thank you," Harry's fingers curl against Sophie's, his thumb drawing circles over the back of her hand, "I see you've met Layla."

"Oh, she's lovely, isn't she!" Elle giggles, losing her balance as Harry's arm darts out to steady her, causing her to giggle before he retracts it, having only helped her out of courtesy. She's acting drunk, but the look in her eyes tells Sophie she's far from it. In fact, Sophie decides, that she's that girl. Yes, that one. The one who smells alcohol and declares themselves beyond intoxicated, throwing themselves at anything on legs and falling over in the process, despite their underlying very sober demeanour.

'Of course you'd think she's lovely,' Sophie thinks to herself, pursing her lips to prevent herself from blurting it out loud. Harry notes her discomfort, gently nudging his nose against her temple to press a kiss there, seemingly unbothered that Elle's standing right there.

"So," Elle clears her throat, plopping herself down onto the couch on the other side of Harry.  Sophie bites her tongue, choosing to stay quiet. Harry's fully aware of Sophie's dislike for Elle, now, and despite having no personal problem with her, for Sophie's sake, he doesn't want to encourage her presence beside them. "It looks like I'll be heading home tomorrow, now."

"Oh, well, it's been nice having you here," Harry says as genuinely as possible, as Elle begins to stare into space. Sophie catches this action, and begins to frown.

"Layla needs to talk to you, if that's okay?" Elle asks Harry, and Sophie looks up to notice that Layla is no longer insight. "Alone?"

Harry looks over at Sophie - not even for permission, just to confirm that she's happy with it. Sophie chews on her lip. She doesn't like this. She doesn't like this at all. It all seems a little too convenient, but she can't exactly tell them to 'fuck off', as much as she'd like to.

"Y-Yeah, I'll go find her," Harry nods, squeezing Sophie's hand, before releasing it from his grip, his fingers brushing over hers a final time as he stands up from the couch. Elle follows, and Sophie tries to brush off the odd feeling in her chest, turning back to the conversation with India, Liam and the others, watching Harry's back as he disappears out of the living room.

Over in the kitchen, Harry heads towards Layla, Elle following closely behind, before she rests her hand on his shoulder.

"I don't feel well," Elle declares all of a sudden, "I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

Harry's eyes widen by instinct, concerned, "Are you okay? Have you eaten anything?"

"N-No, I'm," Elle buries her face in her hands, "I feel sick."

Layla suddenly appears beside her, pressing her hand to her forehead, "Oh, shit. I think she's gonna pass out. India will freak if she faints down here.. Harry, there's a spare room upstairs, first door on the left. Can you just help her get up there? I'll be up with some water in a minute." She practically shoves Elle, who already appears drowsy, into Harry's arms.