21 Murders | Harry Styles AU (discontinued)

XXIV. Prevention

prevention (noun): the action of stopping something from happening or arising

Noelle's POV

I woke up confused and face-forward in burgundy upholstery. It took well over a few minutes until the full scene replayed in my mind. Harry had insisted on staying late to finish some paperwork and after asking him repetitively to go home to no avail, I gave up and found the most comfortable piece of furniture in his office to sleep on.

That turned out being a couch that was rested under a large picture frame of some important art I had forgotten the name of, and right beside the only artificial plant he had in his office. The branches to the fake fern would tickle my face and cause my nose to scrunch, but it was this or the chair across from his desk - and I could barely even fit on that one.

Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I sit up and almost choke at the time on the digital clock. Half past noon. My eyes travel through the room and land on Harry's sleeping form; his hand loosely gripping an opened pen and the other hand planted flat on the counter to give his head a little bit of comfort in the awkward position.

The tired marks under his eyes tell me that he spent all of last night up and doing paperwork while I was sleeping time away. My mind battles whether I should wake him up or let him sleep, the final decision resulting in me walking to the break-room to bring us back some food. At least then when he has to be up, he'll be able to fill his stomach with something fulfilling.

I quickly pull out my wallet and grab some remaining cash that I've had in there since before my kidnapping, and approach the stand. The man hesitantly looks at me, probably wondering why I look like death and most likely smell like it too, but rest assured, I leave with a banana and tea for Harry, and a blueberry muffin and coffee for me.

No one else bothers to notice me while I ascend back up the stairs, my footsteps quick and never faltering due to the panic I know Harry will have if I am not there when he wakes up. Seeing as though the other day, the way he acted when I left to shop with Estelle is both reassuring and nerving.

I know his intentions are for my own good and that is the reason I'm not pissed at him, but at the same time, he knows that Estelle could handle me if anything did go wrong. Other than the fluttering my heart did when I realized how much he cared, the situation left us both with unease. It was soon vanished, though, fortunately, and replaced with a comforting silence that lingered on until morning hours.

I approach his office and walk in, seeing his body still slumped over in a heap of tiredness. My adoration for Harry's muscled arms and curly locks doesn't last long as my thumb traces over the muscle forming from his elbow to his bicep. He sheepishly stirs, still not completely awake as I whisper his name a few times.

"Harry,'' I quietly call him from his sleep. "Harry, baby, it is time to get up." I don't even notice my words until I speak them, and as soon as I do, I feel the red tint lightly on my cheeks in light embarrassment.

With a groan, his head lifts up from his desk and groggily looks over at me, seeing my hand holding a tea out to him and the paperwork scattered under what use to be his face. "What time is it?" His morning voice asks, and even though we are halfway through the evening, my stomach drops at the chills it sends through me.

"Past noon,'' I answer, his eyes widening soon after. "You must've fallen asleep while working last night. What time did you stay up until, anyway?" I peer over, walking to sit on the chair in front of his desk to start on my first meal of the day.

"Last time I checked it was four,'' he shakes his head, sipping from the tea and sighing down in stress. "Thank you for the breakfast,'' Harry's voice then sweetly says, my smile coming back to greet his.