INDIGO➵Harry Styles

8___CONTROL___

They say that fire and ice don't meet. But they must have tonight. Crossed paths. Collided. Introduced themselves and sauntered off, rude, dismissed each other, not cared for the acquaintance.

Because one moment I was raging and we were ready to tear each other apart. And the next there was nothing to say.

I was so angry. He'd ruined my fun. My race.

But I had been a speeding maniac too. It was the first time in a long time I let myself consider that I might be... accountable for something.

Still, that didn't mean I was going to say sorry.

Did it?

We were slumped on the gravel by the highway, both looking out, away from each other. Gravel, bikes, traffic and two idiots didn't fit all that well, but sorry didn't fit at all.

I was... fascinated by that word all of a sudden. I was curious about how it would feel to say it. I wondered what colour his eyes might shine when I did. I could just... say it quick. A band-aid. Rip it off.  Only a little wound to see his reaction. Just to add it to my paintings.

Blues and oranges lighting him up. Like a sunrise. Yes, a blue I'm sorry lit up in orange. I could –

"Well, that was stupid," Harry murmured, laying one hand over the other. He gazed down at the little cross by his thumb, then the lock on his wrist and the key to it, looking for answers.

"Yeah."

An awkward shift from both of us. Breathing out.

I turned my face away. Silence didn't seem to have a clock on it.

No, I wouldn't waste the night like this. I would face him. Yet it seemed he had made the decision before I had. I turned to find him watching me, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me, I supposed. He wasn't ashamed for me to find him looking, so I matched his gaze, clenching my jaw.

"Let's not do that again." The only calm, reasonable, collected part of this night was the smoothness of his voice.

"Let's not almost kill each other," I stated, finding my voice when I met his eyes.

We almost laughed, sort of. It was just a tired breath of relief. Harry's eyes crinkled on the sides, mapping out some humour once more, as he looked out into the night again. It was a humble, strange gift to share with him, to laugh at how ridiculous we had both been, but I was glad I did.

His eyes seemed to be creating their own night lights. Another city completely shone in the smile he gave me.

Somehow we'd stabilised each other.

That was enough for my pride to take. Maybe I nodded, maybe I smiled a little before I left, but it was brief. I was up, rushing away, straddling my bike in moments. I would have to do without a helmet. A quick glance to my side reminded me of the fate my temper had chosen for my helmet.

Zayn's helmet.

How could I have forgotten? He would be so disappointed. Not that he'd ever know... it didn't matter. But it was his, my last bit of home I was allowed to have. And I'd ruined it without a second thought.

I couldn't turn back to pick it up, I had to get away as soon as possible.  The beating in my chest stung a little as I turned my ignition and was ready to speed off. I was making a mistake and in seconds I would be gone, leaving another part of me behind. But it was too late.

Then there was no speed.

My engine wasn't starting up. I checked the side stand, waiting to kick it away and be on my way.