Rupture // h.s au

23. "Bullshit."

Autumn

The more the distance between Harry and I grew, the more I fell back into my familiar rhythm. I did all I was expected to do. I frowned at people walking by, held my head high, cursed at those who dared come anywhere near me. I even laughed, against all that was caving in within me, when Malik chained me down. I didn't know why, but it was either I felt nothing at all, or all at once, and I couldn't possibly afford the last.

So I detoxified myself of all that Harry injected me with, voided my heart of all things human, built up the walls so high, that no one would dare bring them down. No one was allowed in, not anymore. I was foolish enough to assume that anything would ever happen between him and I. I followed an absurd hope, and hope always led to disappointment. I should have known better. At the end of the day, I would always be the enemy. And so was Harry. I just had to remind myself of that, every time I looked into his deceitful tender eyes.

Day one was all Harry. How firm he usually looked, in contrast with the fleeting carefree moments, when he wasn't all Styles; the leader of the chaotics anymore, and he was simply Harry. How kind and caring he was when his eyes fell on Raine. How loving, devoted, and selfless he always felt the need to be, when it came to his people.

Day two was all refocused attention upon what I had to be, not what Harry had unknowingly offered me the opportunity to be. It was a reminder, of all that I had left behind, and what I had to return to, one way or another.

Day three was tiredness. My body was dehydrated, my muscles loose, my mind running low on energy. I was absolutely drained by the sleepless nights, and thoughtful days.

It was day four, when I heard distant bickering coming from the nearby observation room, and I immediately recognized that voice.

" Mum, you can't go in there!"

" Then what's the use of my son being leader?"

" Jesus Christ, mum, this is a prison, and she's held captive. This isn't some circus freak show."

" Language, boy, I will not have you talk to me in that manner, even if you are pulling some strings for me to see her."

" I'm not pulling anything for anyone!"

" Fine then, I would like to see you try to stop me." And almost immediately the gate to my cell was unlocked, and in came a woman, with bright green eyes, long black hair pulled into a bun, and a floral pink apron, covering whatever black outfit she had underneath, shortly followed by a seemingly irritated Harry. Styles, I meant.

" Wow, it's really her." The woman commented, her mouth opened agape, as she slowly approached me, before his arms circled around her, stopping her in her tracks.

" All in the flush and blood." I forced out, ignoring the dryness of my throat.

" You don't look like you're doing too good." Only then, had his eyes dared to meet my own, his eyebrows furrowing in worry, or maybe it was concentration, or perhaps, they didn't furrow at all. Perhaps, his concerned reaction was all another fragment of my hopeless imagination, and he remained as emotionless as ever.

" Are you sick?" He questioned, standing in front of the woman, his tall figure completely hiding her.

" No, actually, I'm feeling great." I willed my shoulders to shrug, but they were so sore, so stiff, due to my unchanged positions for days now. He tilted his head to the side slightly, his lips captured between his teeth in concentration, as if he was attempting to detect what exactly was wrong. His eyes then widened, their green as bright as day.