21 Murders | Harry Styles AU (discontinued)

XVIII. Detonate

detonate (verb): to explode or cause to explode

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Noelle's POV

The hushed clatter of muffled bottles clanking and roudy laughs errupt through the joint, bouncing off the opened bar doors and retracting throughout the room again. Officers quickly scatter into the bar, consuming the counter and some of the booths in the back of the pub.

As a small victory of the conference going well, it was announced that first rounds were on the house. Everyone truly grateful and full of happiness that nothing bad had occured during the speeches nor the exiting process.

Klara had made it priority to scamper into our car with Harry and be as clingy as possible to the lanky boy. Her arm was constantly propped on the back of his seat and at this point, it was nausiating. Harry didn't do shit about it, so it left me to glare out the window and close my eyes to try and find remote peace.

The back of my forearm is bumped as I realize I stand directly in the middle of the entrance, arms crossed and face dull. Bars have never been my place of choice, and quite frankly, the thought of stumbling home tonight doesn't render me satisfied.

"I'll be in the back booth,'' Harry whispers into my ear sternly, walking past me and leaving me to dwell alone. Klara tags onto his arm and follows him, swaying her hips and whispering into his ear as they sit with a group of friends in the corner of the room.

"Hey,'' a familiar French accent startles me and forces my head to snap over my shoulder. His uniform has been stripped down and he wears a tight plaid shirt, loose blue jeans, and rough looking sneakers. Arthur's cologne is over-powering yet delightful, rendering a small smile to my face.

"Hi,'' I shyly reply, re-crossing my arms over my chest awkwardly.

"You look lost,'' he laughs, smiling with bright white teeth. His one hand holds a bottle by his side and the other rises to quiff his slicked hair. The rings cladding his fingers catch my attention, a large black diamond centered right in the middle of the ring.

"This was my father's ring,'' he speaks, catching my diverted attention. An embarrassed redness flushes my cheeks as I am caught looking at the large diamond. His hand raises to be examined by his dark eyes, the shining of the dim bar lights doing little for the diamond's sake.

"It's very nice,'' I encounter. My mood never did meet the high standards of everyone else in the room and as I still fight back the miserable frown on my face, loud laughs echo throughout the room. A television playing a sports game blares over the voices and I just can't find one thing to be satisfied with right now- other than not being six feet under- that is.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Arthur asks, motioning his head to the bar. My mind travels back to Harry's warning and condition. Though it doesn't seem dangerous to be around the boy, something mysterious always catches my attention.

"I don't think that's a good idea." I shake my head, trying to be as kind as possible. A light frown etches onto his tanned skin, almost matching the same mirror expression I am holding back. "I think I'm just going to go sit down,'' I speak before he can and turn away.

Yeah it might have been rude, but the last thing I want to do is drink. My mind is too busy racing over thoughts to be consumed with the flooding amount of confusion alcohol brings. I find a secluded booth in the corner of the room and plop down on the cushion. It surpresses a 'poof' sound and I prop my elbow onto the table, aligning my hand to hold my heavy head.

"A whiskey is the fastest was to avoid lonliness,'' a young waitress speaks, her blonde curls falling in loose waves over her shoulder. The tight top holding her chest struggles to do its job as she plants one of her palms to the table, pushing her boobs to basically fall out of her shirt.