The Short Stories of Harry Styles

Shards of Glass: Part 2

The night prior has echoed and refracted in your mind over and over again. Harry, your partner, had kissed you. It wasn't just any kiss...it was passionate and you could still feel its after effects even now, a day later.

You're not quite sure how it had escalated to that so quickly but you aren't going to exactly complain either. Last night had seemed like an impossibility. You specifically can recall when you'd asked Harry to dinner, casually, six months into being partners and him turning you down. You had thought that the lingering looks and shy smiles, your banter back and forth was a hint towards his blossoming feelings towards you because, hell, you were so undeniably attracted to him and you really hoped he had caught on.

It seemed though, the minute you'd asked him to dinner, that things had suddenly changed. He had been kind about it, as kind as he could have been, but you distinctly remember him gripping the edge of his chair and looking horrified for only a second before gently telling you that he had dated a coworker before and it hadn't ended well. So, you placed your feelings for gentle Harry into a box inside of yourself, something that you only peeked into every so often when you were alone and weak.

You had accepted that you'd be friends only, work colleagues before anything else, and that was that. The decision had been made and yet....five years later...you'd only done what you always did when he had a migraine. You rubbed his temples and tried to make him laugh because that always worked. Only once did you have to rub his neck to release the tension built up there but that had only been one time and he had never reacted this way. He had always just thanked you and said that he didn't deserve you and that was it. You'd tuck the kind words into that little box in your chest and lock it away for a day when you felt especially bad about yourself.

So when sweet and gentle Harry eagerly pulled your mouth to his you were completely blindsided. If you hadn't known better, you'd almost say he was another man entirely. Gone was the gentleness that you'd grown to adore about him and in its place was a desperation, a desperation for your kiss and you didn't exactly know how to handle it nor recover from it. Were you supposed to pretend it never happened? Was it business as usual between the two of you?

You realized you were going to get your answer when the double doors to the precinct opened up two hours after your shifts began and in walked that handsome partner of yours.

Upon first glance, he seemed fine, but as your eyes raked down to his hands, you noticed dark bruising along his knuckles and sat straight up as he approached.

"What happened? Are you alright?" You ask calmly and are only greeted with a defeated, "m'fine," before Harry sits down across from you.

Looking closely at him, you can tell that once again he did not sleep well, and you wonder if maybe he'd gone to the gym to box and that's why his knuckles look the way they do. Something seems off about him though, but you don't inquire anymore. Harry didn't like to be made a fuss over, so you sat back and began to work on the documents of evidence from the crime scene the day before.

No DNA evidence was retrieved from the scene and the victim's autopsy report came back cleared of any sexual assault. It had been consensual...again. You were about to make that fact known to your partner when you heard a slight cracking of knuckles from across your desks.

"So, Shepherd...are we going to pretend last night didn't happen or are we going to acknowledge it...get it out in the open?"

Your mouth is hanging open and you know this because Harry is looking at you with a giant smirk that tells you that you look like an idiot. Snapping your jaw closed you sit up straight and run a hand through your blonde hair.

"Um...out in the open would be nice." You are hesitant, not quite sure where this is all coming from as just moments ago he looked like he might collapse into a dream state any minute and now he was looking at you like you were his favorite dish. Harry's fingers played deftly with his rings, and you noticed the nervous gesture before bringing your eyes back up to his dark ones.