Carry On {A Harry Styles Love Story}

9.0 ; Colors In Disguise.

9.0 ; colors in disguise.

❝ somewhere deep in the dark,

a howling beast hears us talk.

i dare you to close your eyes

and see all the colors in disguise. ❞

★ j e r s e y ☆

I had just finished my nap ten minutes before Harry came barging back into the hotel room. He flung the door open rather aggressively, making me jump a little on the couch where I had begun watching a new episode of my Spanish soap opera, Mi Amor. It was probably the most ridiculous, unintelligible shit I’d ever seen, but for reasons that remained a mystery to me, I was shamelessly hooked on it.

When Harry burst into the living room, he looked as if he’d just gotten hit by a car, then won the lottery. His appearance was a bit disheveled and it looked like his curls had been fussed with quite a lot, probably due to nerves, but there was a huge smile on his face and his emerald eyes were gleaming with unadulterated happiness. The joy was replaced with a mix of amusement and confusion when he saw what was on the television. He closed his mouth, which he had opened presumably to tell me something, and crossed the distance to plop down beside me on the couch, his gaze still fixed on the TV.

“What is it, Harry?” I questioned, sensing that he had something he needed to tell me.

However, he only furrowed his brow and watched intently as Diego and Aria argued heatedly on the screen. “Why are they so angry at each other?” he asked instead, his lazy British accent like music to my ears.

“Beats me.” I shrugged.

Harry looked over at me in surprise, disbelief written on his features. “You mean you don’t actually know what’s happening?”

“Well, I can usually guess what’s going on,” I answered defensively.

“But you don’t understand what they’re saying?”

“No comprendo.”

“None of it?”

“Nada.”

“But—” He cut himself off by flickering his gaze back over to the television, becoming engrossed in the dramatic scene again. “Wait, what’s happening now? Why does he have a gun all of a sudden? Why is he—Hey, why is he pointing it at—Stop! Don’t point it at her, Diego! Don’t—” He flinched at the loud gunshot sounding from the speakers. We both stayed silent for a few seconds, Harry gaping at the TV in shock and me sitting beside him with a grim, slightly appalled expression on my face. I’d been half-expecting it since Aria appeared to have been cheating on Diego and all the characters in this show apparently thought shooting someone was the best default solution to any situation.

Cheating on me? I’ll shoot you.

Kidnapping my children? I’ll shoot you.

Firing me from my job? I’ll shoot you.

Accidentally hit my dog with your car? Better start wearing a bulletproof vest everywhere you go, motherfucker.

Harry suddenly turned to me, snapping me out of my thoughts. The look of horror he wore was enough to make me scramble for the remote and shut the television off. “How could he—How could he do that? I mean... He just... Did it. How could he, Jersey?”

Oh, fuck. Was he about to cry? Sensing his distress, I quickly reached out and placed my hands on both of his shoulders, trying to shake some sense into him—probably a little too roughly, I admit. “Harry!” I slapped him across the face. Not too hard, but enough to make his head turn slightly to the side. “Snap out of it! It’s just. A show.”