lost // h.s

vi.

a loud knock on the door startles harry from his slumber. he tries to open his eyes but he can't: he is too tired. maybe if he doesn't answer, they'll go away.

another knock. it was louder and faster this time.

he groans and buries himself deeper in the warm cocoon of his bed.

"let us in. we know you're in there!" a voice came from the other side, but harry didn't reply. he finally opens his eyes and raises his hand to block out the sunlight swathing through the blinds. he is still wearing last night's clothes.

he drags the comforter off of himself and swings his legs over the side of his bed and sits up; his eyes are puffy and full of sleep.

then just as soon as he thought that they were gone, the pounding ensued. it is getting more persistent as bare knuckles meet against wood. "alright, alright!" harry calls out, "for fuck's sake, i'm coming."

he races to the door, his feet padding quietly on the wooden floors of his house. as he walks with pinched eyebrows and a sigh, he wonders what gemma has done now. he knows there will be the same two officers who showed up on his doorstep just a couple of nights ago; it is the same toxic cycle. it is inevitable.

harry knew exactly why she was acting this way. but he was tired of being her lapdog all the time; he didn't know how many times he could pick her up just for her to fall down again.

he was the reason why she didn't run away during her sophomore year of college. he was the reason she didn't eat a bottle of sleeping pills when her first high-school boyfriend cheated on her. he listened for hours when their parents used to yell and try to stuff her into a mannequin shell that didn't fit. he understood what triggered her earthquakes, most of them. he knew how much it hurt to be the child of people who couldn't see you, not even if you are standing in front of them stomping your feet.

but remembering all that was too complicated for harry. it was easier to just turn the knob, handle the situation with those dark-uniformed people standing outside the door and get gemma out already. and so he did.

it was officer mustache man and officer gentle eyebrows and light eyes!

again!

what a surprise!

but harry quickly noticed that it was not just the two of them, but three.

his eyes tightened and something about this other guy made his throat constrict. "we need to speak with a harry styles," the third officer said as he looked down at his brown clipboard when harry opened the door. he was a stocky man, with a sharp, weather-roughened face - dark obsidian blue beneath heavily wrinkled eyelids.

clearing his throat, harry said, "you're speaking with him."

the officer looked at the two men behind him before sending harry a weird look. "can we come in?"

harry suddenly couldn't seem to register the question but then realised that they were all waiting for him to respond. "oh. yeah yeah," he quickly stood aside and swung his front door open, motioning for them to step inside.

"well," the officer said, "may i see an ID?"

"what?" harry chuckled. "are you kidding?"

the three police officers looked back with pursed lips and blank expressions.

"well," harry scratched his head, "why?"

the third officer parted his lips to respond, articulating every word slowly and precisely, "because we need to know for sure that the person we're talking to right now, the person we're about to disclose some highly classified information to is actually harry styles."