You Were a House on Fire | Harry Styles

eighteen

'Home now. Can't wait to see you.'

He stared at the unanswered text from last night. Though Harry meant his words sincerely, his fingers shook when he finally hit send. Their time apart changed things, there was no denying it. He hoped it changed in a good way. He told himself that it did, even if it was just a mantra to keep his spirits up.

Getting into his car, he took a deep breath and finger combed through his hair. The weightlessness felt odd, and he missed the long curls that framed his face so nicely, but the haircut was long overdue. That doesn't mean his fingers didn't twitch at times, wishing they could pull on the rugged ends.

He had landed in Chicago late last night and promptly went to bed, but hadn't actually slept in what felt like days. Instead, he lounged against his headboard, smoking joint after joint as unfamiliar nighttime television lit up every corner of his bedroom. He and Roe had texted earlier that week and agreed to see each other that morning, and Harry nearly called her three times just to confirm it. The longer his text went unanswered, the more he considered it again.

He watched the sun rise above the crooked horizon of buildings, warming his room with each passing breath. By the time his room glowed a soft yellow, Ham squeaked to make her presence known at the foot of the bed. She yawned and arched her back before hopping over the tangle of sheets around Harry's legs and landing on his stomach. She peered down at him as if scolding him for leaving her for so long. Harry scratched under her chin. He knew the pet sitter he hired while he was gone took care of her just fine, but nothing could change her loyalty and attachment to him. The weight of her paws did nothing to quell the churning of his stomach. He lit another joint as he got out of bed to feed the kitten and eventually himself. Admittedly, he missed her and the routine she instituted on him.

Harry took his time drinking a cup of coffee and eating some toast before he wandered to his bathroom and started the shower. As the water heated up, he stared at his reflection in the oversized mirror. He didn't regret cutting his hair. He liked the way the shorter curls somehow made him look older. As if the Harry that was in One Direction was an entirely different person, a character in a story that he read and put up on the shelf. Yes, he liked it short. He hoped Roe would like it, too.

The drive to Roe's house from his apartment felt twice as long as normal. Harry felt antsy, simultaneously wanting to rush through their greeting as quickly as possible in order to get back to normal and savor each second with her to see if she'd transformed just as much as he had that month. The possibility that she wouldn't want him to stay all day like he did before pained him. He nearly ran every red light.

Parking in his usual spot on the curb, Harry took one last deep breath before striding up to Roe's front door. He knocked twice before opening it and gliding in. The sound of a baseball game in the living room greeted him coldly. He turned to the couch, ready to embrace Roe, when instead he was greeted by the scowl of a stranger.

He sat in the middle of the couch, legs spread wide. His cut-off sweatshorts and long sleeve shirt stretched tightly across his muscles, but he seemed as comfortable as ever slouched in the lumpy cushions with a lit cigarette resting between his fingertips. Harry could tell from just the length of his legs that he was likely well over six feet tall, and Harry subconsciously straightened his posture.

Harry figured he could be one of Lucas' friends, but the mess of tattoos littering his skin and the hint of wrinkles around his eyes made him rethink. Most of all, the 'R' marked on his hand, on the same spot he himself sported a cross, raised the short hairs on the back of his neck, and Harry cleared his throat to make his presence known.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked.

"I could be asking you the same thing, mate."

The man paused, recognition flashing across his eyes. He flicked the extra ash of his cigarette onto a paper plate on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch cushion, slowly taking another drag. The smoke tickled Harry's nose. Harry felt his heart rate quicken, anxious about his next move.