kalopsia [harry styles]

22

FALLON COLLINS

"Did you have fun?"

"I... I actually did, sort of"

"Ha! I knew you'd have fun. Even old grumps like you have fun in ice rinks" I point to him, my index finger poking his arm playfully.

He chuckles lightly, looking up at the elevator ceiling and shaking his head. His green eyes glimmer with amusement. It's weird, but I often find the color of his eyes comforting–When they're not intimidating, that is.

We were currently going up to his apartment. Surprisingly enough, we hadn't really noticed that it had been getting dark while we were out and about in Central Park, but we hadn't minded. We'd walked back to his apartment, since it was to one closest to us, talking about unimportant things the entire way back.

Still, as I laughed and talked to him, I couldn't stop thinking about the damn lady and her assumptions back at the ice rink. My heart found itself doing flips every time Harry looked at me a certain way, or when he said anything at all for that matter.

I didn't want to accept what I felt, didn't know if I ever would. If I had to be in denial, then so be it, because I knew that Harry would never look at me in that way, and I couldn't risk to lose the friendship.

He was just a friend–someone who lived his life in the Upper East Side, surrounded by pretty girls and sex and money and everything at his reach with only a motion of his hand.

And I was just... Fallon, I guess.

I wasn't rich. I wasn't social. I didn't do drugs or have sex. I wasn't a virgin, but it wasn't my hobby to sleep around like I assumed he did.

My world didn't mix with his, and it was really clear that apart from the times that we were together, the both of us led completely different lives.

It surprised me how much we had in common, but also how much things we didn't. He was used to crowds and basic conversions. He didn't like to tell people about his personal life and in that way I was the same.

But as I'd said before, we had very different ways of going about it.

On the way back we'd encountered some of his fans. Two of them had come to us and asked for a picture. I'd been about to tell them that I'd take the picture for them when Harry had scowled at the girl. He'd grabbed my hand, and told her to fuck off and that he didn't want to take a picture with her.

He'd proceeded to basically drag me forward, leaving the pair of girls gobsmacked and shocked as we continued to walk as if that interaction had never happened.

I didn't like how he was rude to his fans. They were literally the people that had made him famous, and he acted like they were garbage and didn't deserve to be in his presence.

When I'd told him about it, he'd given me a shrug, pulled out an unlit cigarette from his front pocket and told me that that was what Louis, Niall and Zayn were for.

I mean, he wasn't wrong, but it was still really rude to push off fans that were kind and nice.

Each their own, I guess.

That was something I'd also realized about Harry. It was like he couldn't understand why someone would be nice to a person that they didn't know. I'd tried to explain to him that it was basic respect, but he'd proceeded to tell me that he wasn't going to give a stranger respect, because he didn't think they deserved it.

I realized soon enough that there was no getting through to Harry. He was stubborn and so close minded it sometimes made me want to pull my hair out from the roots.