Dear Iris [h.s]

chapter twenty five.

Harry Styles

The evening rolled around and I was sitting in the living room, lit by candlelight finishing an article with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I prefer evenings where I have Harper's company, they're less boring, but I suppose evenings like this are beneficial. I actually get work done when Harper isn't here.

Then I heard the doorbell, followed by multiple knocks when I didn't answer the door in a second, and my heart dropped. That was definitely not my mothers knock, or Harper's. It was an angry knock and now I'm extremely concerned over who could be at the other side.

What I opened the door to was unexpected. It wasn't an angry Thomas or George, or my father although he'd never willingingly step foot near this building. It was Iris, with tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

"What did he tell you?" She asked, her voice shaky and unsteady as she looked up at me in distress.

"What?" I furrowed my brows together in confusion.

"What did he tell you!?" Iris exclaimed, sounding more distraught this time and worrying me a lot more.

"Jesus Iris," I sighed, stepping aside to which Iris shook her head like she knew what I was away to say. "Come in. C'mon Iris, come inside and we'll talk."

I can't begin to imagine what she's feeling right now, but the look on her face, the redness in her eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks worry me. I don't like that she's upset, I don't like that anyone is ever upset, however seeing Iris upset causes me to feel a whole new sensation of sorrow.

She didn't move when I invited her in, so I took a deep breath and stepped forward, putting a hand cautiously on her back to at least try to get her inside. Thankfully she did come in, I didn't want the whole goddamn neighbourhood hearing Iris' drama. She doesn't deserve that, regardless.

The distressed look on her face made it obvious that she wasn't in a very stable headspace. I told her to take a seat on the couch and boiled the kettle, but she stayed standing by the front door and tucked those stray curls back behind her ears with her shaky hands.

"D'you take milk in your tea?" I asked, "sugar?"

"What did he tell you?" She asked me again, folding her arms as she looked over at me, a singular tear falling from those distraught eyes of hers.

With a sigh, I abandoned the tea making and walked over towards her. I went to put a hand on her shoulder, however she stepped back and looked away, waiting for me to answer. It was like a slap across the face, but I didn't let on.

I want to comfort her, tell her everything will be okay but in this town, in this day and age, I don't know that it will be. The reality is that for people like Iris and I, things probably won't be okay for a long time.

"Who are you talking about?" I asked, sitting down with my elbows resting on my knees, fingers interlocking.

"Thomas." Her voice was emotionless, her eyes remained avoiding me.

Fuck.

She told me not to ask, didn't she? I fucking knew she didn't like talking about whatever went on before I had ever spoken to her, now I regret asking Thomas. She won't trust me now, and I don't blame her.

Thomas just gets too much serotonin out of talking badly about his sister. It's fucking awful. In books, the oldest brother usually gets so protective over his little sister, and I definitely do with Harper. I'd shield her from every ounce of negativity if I could. For Iris' sake, I wish Thomas was that way too.

"He told me about Andrew, and..." I paused when I saw the emotionless look on her face turn to one of worry. "Iris, come and sit down."

"No." She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.