in which joelle d'amore is completing her final semester of university in the grand city of los angeles, california. when she finds herself in the presence of harry styles, a piercing man with dangerous agendas, she is permeated with fear. she saw s...
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He's seeing a ghost—evidently, one from his past and he's standing right behind the barrel of his gun. The weapon begins to shake and when Harry notices it's his hand that's shaking, he releases Finnegan's throat and takes a step back.
"Stay the fuck away," he mutters to him.
Leaning off the wall, Finnegan then says, "Harry, if we could just-"
Harry is unnerved. He raises his gun high and it causes the man before him to flinch and choke on his words. "I said, stay the fuck away! If I see your fucking face again— If she sees your face again... I'll shoot your brains out, you got that?" Harry threatens through an uncontrollable tremble. "Actually, no. For even daring to approach her. I'll fucking kill you right here, right-"
"Harry, no!" I yell when Harry charges at Finnegan. He slams him into the wall again only to point the gun right underneath his chin. "Don't do anything stupid!" The echoing of my voice through the parking garage makes me panic.
I can't let this turn into another situation where he kills somebody in my defense.
So, I reach him, and I tug him by his patterned shirt. "Harry, please." I swallow when he doesn't budge. The two of them, Harry and Finnegan, just stare at one another and I could only assume it's hatred—at least on Harry's part—that runs beneath their conspicuous history.
Finally, Harry steps down. "Don't show your face again," he warns him once more through a jagged breath.
I glance at Finnegan when Harry turns around. I scan his face to read as much as I possibly could off it. Finnegan is rubbing at his throat, however, with eyes on the concrete ground and back flat against the wall. With my arm locked around Harry's arm, my feet move when he begins to walk away.
He breathes heavily as he tucks his gun behind him and into the waistband of his denim shorts. He moves with agitation, walking fast into the casino again and I wince.
I feel the discomfort now, especially with how fast we're moving. "Harry," I say, gripping onto his arm when I can't keep up at his pace. "Slow down, please."
I don't even think he knows where he's heading. Harry is walking fast steps without a particular destination. "I told you to wait... for me... at the-" He stops talking and with frustration, he pushes his curls back. Though, when he lowers his hand from his hair, he looks at it tremble.
I stop him from blindly marching us in an opposite direction. "I know you did," I whisper as I then nudge him towards the empty hallway where the public restrooms lie. With passing people all around us, I'd hate for someone to accidentally bump into Harry at this moment. It's why I felt the need to pull him aside. "Breathe," I instruct when I recognize his struggle.
