shorts || h.s.

7 days after

Connor woke up with crusty eyes and a wet pillow. She ran a finger through her tousled hair and climbed out of bed, heading to the kitchen. When she arrived, Louis and Eleanor were not at the table.

"Eleanor?" She asked. Eleanor turned around with big eyes. "Where are your Frosted Flakes?"

Routine was very important to Connor at this point in time, that way she felt nothing could happen. When she experienced that one day when no one hurt her, she felt that if she could repeat that day over and over, nothing would happen. Any single detail would mess everything up and a complete panic attack would occur. Eleanor and Louis did everything they could to keep that from happening.

"Oh, Connor, come sit," Eleanor spoke cautiously, knowing she'd have to tell the story carefully for Connor to understand the happenings outside.

She lead her to the couch, a gentle hand on her back. Connor was trembling, this isn't supposed to happen. Louis followed them, sitting on the chair beside the couch, knowing what was coming.

"Connor, do you remember your old house?" Eleanor asked carefully. Connor nodded, closing her eyes tightly. "Do you remember your old bedroom?" She nodded, tears welling up in her closed eyes.

"El," Louis started, but Eleanor waved a hand at him. She had practiced this all morning.

"Connor, do you remember the bed in your old bedroom?" Eleanor asked, withdrawing one hand from Connor's back. Connor nodded, her legs shaking. "Do you remember who slept in that bed with you?" She asked, getting closer to the point.

"Eleanor," Louis commanded, hating the feeling of watching Connor's body tremble with fear. He could see Connor falling apart under Eleanor's touch. And only because a few words had been spoken.

Eleanor shot Louis a menacing look and continued the interrogation. "Connor, do you remember who slept in that bed with you?" She pushed. Connor nodded, starting to weep. "Do you remember his birthday?" Eleanor asked, tiptoeing her way around his name, knowing it served as the ultimate trigger.

"El!" Louis called, his own tears starting to gather. He didn't even know this girl, but he sure knew Harry. And seeing the effect such a loving person could have by one careless decision killed him.

Eleanor ignored him. Connor nodded, dropping her head to her hands. Her elbows rested on her knees. She pulled on her hair.

"Connor, do you remember his name?" Eleanor asked, hoping to get Connor to say it. Maybe if Connor said it, the memories would come rushing back at a steady pace. One that wouldn't paralyze Connor.

"He—" She started, not knowing the answer.

"Con," Louis added, knowing he called her that. Louis wanted to get this over with.

"Harry!" Connor screeched. She cried out for him, cried out for him to get away from her. She called for him to come closer. She missed him. She hated him.

"Look, Connor," Eleanor soothed, wiping a tear. She pulled Connor's shaking body off the couch and to the window. Louis reluctantly stood up, joining Connor on the other side.

"Look, baby," Eleanor pointed.

Below the window, flooding the streets, were colors. Colors on paper. No, posters. The posters were held by people. Thousands of people. All bundled up and screaming things in this cold weather. They went for as long as their eyes could see.

The signs read all kinds of positive messages. Countless protests of the occurrence, all supporting Connor. Some declared Harry be locked away forever. Some declared themselves no longer a "directioner." But the most important thing that all three of them could see was one little sign at the bottom of the building, sitting on the sidewalk.

"I'm here for her, not him."

Soon, everyone caught sight of the sign. The music started. Well, not music, but the chants that were music to Connor's ears. "Her, not him!" Over and over. Soon, that's all you could hear.

Connor looked around to see people opening their windows and sticking their heads out their windows, trying to find the ruckus. Connor smiled, seeing all the people here to support her, crowding the streets. She couldn't see anything but them, all here to support her case.

One thing Eleanor, Connor, and Louis didn't know: the line of protestors started at the police station—the place of Harry's holding.

"Styles!" The guard yelled.

"Yes, sir?" He asked, looking up from picking at his hands.

"There's a bunch of girls outside, come see this," he demanded. The guard unlocked the cell and pushed Harry to the window. He kept a tight hold on Harry's cuffs, even though he knew Harry wouldn't run.

Harry watched, seeing all the girls push their signs up and down, reading one after another. Each one had powerful words painted on them, hitting him right where it hurt. They chanted hurtful words, slicing his heart into pieces.

"I'm done," Harry choked, tears falling down his cheeks. "Take me to the cell," he begged.

The guard was tearing up himself, happy all these girls had taken the move to come here and protest for him. He decided to punish Harry as much as he could. "I don't have to listen to you, Styles, but you do have to listen to them," he snapped.

Harry was forced to listen to the girls chanting words of wisdom about the case. He was forced to watch his old family break his heart. And he cried.