21 Murders | Harry Styles AU (discontinued)

XXVI. Rescern

rescern (verb): to rapidly shift from feeling annoyed with a person to concerned upon learning new information; the worry compounded by subsequent guilt for previous anger

Harry's POV

I couldn't explain what took over me, and I still can't. It was like the moment those unintended-ly hurtful words were spoken from El, my mind took over and my mouth moved without my permission. I wouldn't have been so quick to retaliate if it weren't for all the stress over-flowing from the seems right now about her Italian hereditary.

With the news from Nurse Linda still knocking my system, it was like Noelle saying she wanted her old life back was meant to insult me and push me off the edge of sanity. Of coarse she'd want to get that life back, how stupid could I be?

Who wouldn't want to erase the last few weeks and not have the hheavy burden and emotional trauma persisting over and over again? The decision to leave her all alone at the department was about as smart as deciding that I would choose not to have feelings for her; frankly, physically and emotionally impossible.

I sigh and drag my palms across my face while thinking repetitively about what I'd done with my quick temper and my practically non-existent rationality. Things between us- in my book- were suppose to build so that this vacation coming up could spoil us and give us that little break from the world to just focus on our relationship - which at the moment seems pretty invisible.

A knock on my office door chimes me out of my resolve, leaving my voice to call out a quick: "Come in!" As I await the face I am expecting to see, I am completely taken back with the face I do get. Although, not shocked in a good way. My teeth grit harder when Arthur strides in coolly, taking a seat in the chair in front of my office desk.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I don't hold back the vile tone I carry. It may not be fair to have such a strong hatred for the young French boy, but every time his face comes to mind, I see nothing but his hands on my girl, the night I was- once again- too idiotic to take action in a helpful way.

"Hello to you, too,'' he chuckles the subject off, trying to act overly casual when I know for sure he is about as nervous as I am pissed. His broken nose is crooked and a green tint lingers in his pigment from my forceful hits.

I smirk proudly at my accomplishments.

"I'm here to speak to you about the ball,'' Arthur decides to stop dawdling around the subject, hitting straightforwardly with a crucial look to his eyes. Something about him doesn't look mysterious or provoked, maybe weary?

"What about it? Are you here to rub it in my face how you'll be attending, as well?" I sneer, bringing my hands to connect on top of the wooden surface in front of me. Arthur's eyes follow to my hands, a visible gulp rendering in his throat.

"No, I am here to tell you not to go,'' he outwardly speaks.

I await further explanation that never comes.

"Why should I listen to you?" I feverishly ask, jaw locked in thick annoyance. My temper has been at sever highs lately, and this kicks my other emotions into a hyper-drive that I can't necessarily explain without doubting - myself.

"I haven't given you a reason not to,'' Arthur fights back, sitting up in his seat and awkwardly groaning while pressure is put onto his ribs. The dark color in his eyes render me to let him continue. "Other than me dancing with Noelle, I haven't done anything to you. How was I suppose to know you two were a thing? I don't think you even knew at the time."

I want to throw it in his face and flaunt about how Noelle would never be with him, but I realize I'm being as childish as they come. My hate for the French boy is fueled simply on something that was never really his fault. Although he hasn't necessarily been the most decent law enforcer, what he says about not starting trouble with me is sickeningly truthful.