Teeth [Harry Styles Fanfiction]

Chapter Two

Harry’s Point of View:

“What were you and that Fiscella girl talking about back there?” My dad inquired, in more of a silent and husky voice. Why was he talking so low? It was almost as if he were afraid to be spotted by someone. I looked around cautiously, just in case, but just found an empty area. My hands were tucked away in my coat pockets and my eyes stayed glued ahead, not looking at my curious father. “Nothin’.”

I felt his solid grasp at my shoulder, causing me to stop in my path. “What were you two talking about?” this time, it wasn’t a question; it was a statement. My eyes fell on the man’s sturdy hands and I yanked myself out of his hold. His facial expressions turned cold and he looked away a moment, almost as if he had committed a crime. This wasn’t a crime, but he has before, and maybe he felt ashamed, I didn’t know. I looked at him cautiously, before flickering my eyes open a bit. I licked my lip as I was going to verbalize, “She showed me the backyard and where she wanted the pool and that was it.” My voice was low and now I looked away from my father. There was a moment of silence, but then I felt his hand on me again. This time, it was much more settle. “I want you to stay away from that girl, do you understand?”

Honestly, I was caught off guard by his request. Not just that though, the seriousness in his voice lingered and I didn’t understand why. All I could do was nod, and gulp subconsciously. The rest of the walk was quiet, even though he tried to make conversation with me. Our habitual conversations ended a while ago, and he knew exactly why.

“Have you thought about it?” He finally broke the ice and I could feel his eyes glued to me, but I wasn’t looking back. “What?” I asked, foolishly. I knew exactly what he was talking about but I wanted to avoid the topic as much as possible. “You know what. What we were discussing earlier.”

“Oh – no.”

“No, what?” he inquired, pausing in his steps. I stopped too, sighing a little. At this rate, we were never going to get home. “No – I haven’t thought about it dad.” Maybe my tone was a little straight forward, but I was getting agitated. I hated that he was pushing this on me, and what bothered me even more was that he never even considered how I felt about the whole thing. I heard him make a noise of disapproval and he shook his head, continuing to walk. “You really need to think about that, boy. Do you want to live like this for the rest of your life?” he asked me, and I didn’t know if it was a trick question or not.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I looked the other way, reluctant to answer that. If he meant by living like he was for the rest of my life, then no. I didn’t. Even though I did love my dad (to a certain extent), I never wanted to end up like him. He was nothing more but a miserable, drunken and poor man. Sure, he has been there for me all of my life, but I sure did have hell to pay sometimes. Don’t get me wrong; I could be an orphan without him, but sometimes I imagine that being a better alternative.

Once we got home, I jogged up to my room and slammed the door behind me. The clock read “6:30 pm” and I sighed, in expectance of what will happen next. It was 6:30 pm on a Saturday after a job – that only meant dad was going to get blind drunk, how wonderful. Lying on my bed, I looked over at my side table where my phone lay. I could hear the vibrations beating off of the wood and I groaned. I was really not in the mood to talk to anyone. Instead, my eyes lingered over the phone and onto a series of photos taped together. Some were of me when I was a kid, others were of random family members (from my dad’s side) that I haven’t seen in years. That was only because most of my dad’s family has disowned him after the… accident.

I gulped just looking at some of those photos, but paused when I came across a picture of her. It was such a casual picture, being she just sat at the foot of our old steps, wearing a casual tank top and capris. She was smiling, holding dusty in her arms and petting him. I could see half of my small figure in the picture and that made me giggle every time. I don’t know what compelled me to look at that picture because I know how subtle I become. But I did look at it, and all those memories from that horrid day flashed back in my head, like a bad horror film.