21 Murders | Harry Styles AU (discontinued)

XL. Predisposition

predisposition (noun):  a liability or tendency to suffer from a particular condition, hold a particular attitude, or act in a particular way

Noelle's POV

My jaw nearly plummets to the tile floor when Arthur struts into the kitchen, clad in casual clothes and a baseball hat. Nervously making eye contact with me for a split second, his eyes dart away and meet the set above mine.

"There you are," Harry speaks. "I thought you weren't going to show."

"I got caught up, but I'm here now. Did I miss anything too important?" He innocently eyes the room with a weak smile. His hands shift from his pockets to under his hat – smoothing out the dark hair there before he shoves them behind his back.

"Winnie beat me at chess," Royce snickers under his breath.

"And can hotwire a police car," Estelle adds, making the room chuckle.

"She can also speak for herself," Winnie rolls her eyes but lets the awkwardness looming in the air subside. I start to wonder if anyone else feels the unpleasant aura filtrating the room or if it's just me and my conscious.

"We were just about to go over the footage, so you didn't miss anything worthwhile," Harry answers Arthur's original question and sets down his cup on the kitchen counter. My OCD tells me to make him throw it away, but that isn't nearly as important as my current situation.

"I'll set up the laptops," Royce points one finger up into the air to the living room and follows out on his word. Like a trail of ducklings waddling behind their mother, Klara, Estelle, Winnie and Arthur all follow behind him.

My fist grabs ahold of Harry's t-shirt and stops him from moving, to which a skeptical frown takes over his face and makes him cower down to ask, "What's wrong?" My face should tell him exactly what I don't want to bring up.

"Did you invite him?" I whisper yell with pursed lips.

"Yeah, what's the big deal?" He nonchalantly shrugs but now I see the anger hidden deep in his eyes.

"Why?"

"I might hate him, but he could potentially help us with Internal Affairs and figuring out that shit mess. What he did by not telling me about my father's call with Fred is unforgivable, but we need to look past that so we can focus on ending what should've never started."

"Are you sure you're okay with it, though?" I ask meekly. Truthfully, I don't know how to feel.

"I'm trying to be," Harry sighs while looking up at the ceiling. Meeting my eyes again, he adds, "Honestly, I am trying to fix things and what he may have had with you I know will never happen. The least I could do is not be like my father but give him another chance."

My eyes soften at the mention of his dad. Deep down I can see the hurt and ache on his face of what he thinks to be losing another parent, and I can understand that completely. If there is one thing we share, it's understanding and feeling sympathy for others just as unfortunate as us. But then again, others don't have what we share, either.

"Your father-"

"I don't want to talk about him right now."

"I was just going to say that he is very lucky to have a son so honest and hard working." I finish anyway, seeing how my words lighten his mood slightly. "You're worth more than you think." I can't emphasize these words enough. He blocks them out every time, it seems like. I wish they'd absorb into his thick skull and cool the aches and stings of hurt that strike him every day.