Harry Styles Imagines Book 2

green eyes

The tension in the car was suffocating you. It was silent, but it wasn’t the usual comfortable silence that often filled your car rides with Harry, the ones where the music was just loud enough and his hand was resting on your thigh, thumb tapping along to the beat while you looked out the window. This silence was swollen, it was pushing against the windows of the car and it pushed on your chest in an uncomfortable way. The music was low and Harry wasn’t touching you—he was barely even talking to you.

Since you sat yourself in the passenger seat, something seemed off. Something had seemed off for the past three weeks, but you had been choosing to ignore it, not ready to acknowledge that something could be wrong between the two of you in the slightest. You had hoped that whatever it was would simply go away, but obviously it hadn’t. If anything it had only grown—Harry seemed less interested in you, he didn’t seem to want to see you as often, telling you not to come over after a long day when you used to be all he wanted when he was a little run down, not returning your calls when you missed him, no longer saying goodnight. You could sense him slipping away. And then, there you were, in his car driving circles around London, neither of you saying anything.

That night, he had cancelled your plans, and then—after you had invited your friend over for pizza and wine—asked you to go for a drive with him. At eleven o’clock at night. You knew it wasn’t a good sign and so did your friend Millie.

“I have to go.” You said with an uneasy expression on your face.

“A drive, yeah?” You could clearly hear the pity in her voice.

“Yup.”

“I think I’m gonna stay, if that’s all right. It’s late and we’ve been drinking and—“

“You want to be here in case I come home heart broken.” Your voice was soft and she winced when you said it.

“Yeah, that too. Not that I want that to happen! Or even think it’ll happen! Harry loves you, you know that, it’s just—“

“A drive isn’t good.” You finished for her and she sighed.

“It could be.”

“Mill, it’s not good.”

“Well, I’ll be here when you get back. If you get back. This could potentially end up with you naked in his bed.” She tried to sound confident.

“Yeah.” You gave her a sad smile as you pulled on your converse. “It could.”

You knew it wasn’t going to end up that way. There was this feeling you had deep in your gut that tonight wasn’t going to end in the way you wanted to—it was going to end the same way other nights with him had ended up lately. You would be in bed alone.

You recrossed your arms over your chest for the third time in the past ten minutes and snuck a glance at Harry. He was zoned in on the road, with his left hand on the wheel and his right hand pulling at his bottom lip. You looked at him long enough for him to know you were staring, but he didn’t look at you.

A tiny sigh escaped your lips as you uncrossed your arms again. You were uncomfortable and you felt your anxiety grow and your cheeks flame and the car was getting stuffier and stuffier. You rolled down your window and let the cold November air roll in. You rested your head back onto the seat and let your eyes drift closed for a moment, trying to calm your beating heart down.

Sitting there was agony. He hadn’t said anything since you had asked him if he had a good day—apparently he did, though the tone in his voice said otherwise. You had been driving around for thirty minutes and you were growing more and more impatient.

You let your hand fall out of the window and hummed along to the Fleetwood Mac song that played softly through the speakers. You needed to say something. You knew that you needed to say something because if you didn’t, he never would. Harry would let this silence go on until he couldn’t take it anymore, and then he would drop you home and he would continue to act the way he had been.