Puzzled. (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

- Two. -

I woke up to the obnoxious sound of my buzzing alarm.

"Uhhh, it's only 7 AM," I groaned to myself, wanting to shutting off the noise.

I shifted my body across the bed, reaching for the snooze button. I pulled the duvet over my head, engulfing myself again in my own warmth. As I was about to drift off into a deep slumber, a knock on the door caused me to jolt up awake.

"Harry?" My mother called.

"What?" I grunted, frustrated at the fact it was way too early to be bothering me. I've never been a morning person, and I knew for a fact, I will never become one.

"Harry, get ready. We're having breakfast with Nicole," she said through the door.

It took me a moment to register what she was saying, and quite frankly, I didn't understand. "Breakfast? Nicole? I'm supposed to have plans with her, but not until noon."

My mom opened the door, and sat on the edge of my bed. She thoroughly explained how Nicole called her and informed her about having breakfast at their home. Her explanation was crystal clear, but what I didn't understand was why didn't Nicole just call me in the first place? Whatever the reason was, I shrugged it off and proceeded to take care of my "morning duties" as soon as my mom left.

Taking a cold, icy shower was surely to wake me up, however, I was also positive I was going to get hypothermia. Today, I was feeling sluggish, and honestly, I had little to no desire to interact with anyone at all. That includes Nicole. But, what has to be done, needs to be done. I wasn't willing to put our relationship in jeopardy, so I had to tell her about behavior school. Come to think of it, how exactly would I explain the situation to her? She's going to flip out, I'm so certain of it. But. . .

"Harry! Are you done?" My mom called out. 

"No, not yet!" I huffed.

"Hurry up! You've been in there for almost half an hour," she complained.

I rolled my eyes at that remark. My mom had a hobby of rushing me even when she takes longer than me a majority of the time. As I dressed into casual clothing, I debated if whether I should cover my curls or not. Because of how lazy I was, I didn't want to style my curls or what-not, so I decided to just wear a gray-colored beanie.

I descended down the stairs only to see my mom eyeballing me with a very harsh glare. 'What took you so long, Harold?" 

I sighed, not saying a single word, but only leading her out the door. That's when I realized I forgot my phone on my night stand. I knew if I had bothered to go back upstairs to retrieve it, my mom would only become even more frustrated with me. I thought, I don't think I need it anyways. I continued to make my way out the door, heading to where my black Hummer H2 was parked. It only took me a second to unlock the doors and start the ignition, so that gave us a head start.

"Hey, Mum, did you lock the doors?" I asked.

She nodded and gestured for me to start driving, even though I didn't exactly know where we were supposed to be going. I assumed we were going to Nicole's house because we were supposed to be having breakfast. I'm not even looking forward to it, honestly. Her parents weren't too fond of me due to how much of a "bad influence" I am, but I really didn't care. The only thing they see is my facade, nothing more, nothing less. Not even Nicole knows the real me. 

 ---

Arriving at Nicole's home was surely frightening for me, even if it hasn't been the first time. I've visited here and there and dropped her off before, but I've only had a one-on-one encounter with her parents twice. They didn't go so well because. . . well, I was drunk and couldn't drive home. Again, I pushed the thoughts and walked up to their front entrance. Let me tell you this, their front door wasn't exactly your average front door. For crying out loud, they had a mansion, so naturally, their main entrance was extravagant. 

"Oooh, classy," My mom said in awe. I knew that was coming. As my mom rung the door bell, I stood against an ivory white column, fidgeting with the loose curls that weren't tucked into my beanie.

The doors opened to display a couple, with unpleasant looks on their faces. Mr. and Mrs. Larson.

"Hello, Harry. Pleasant to see you here, Anne," Mr. Larson greeted, but he and I both knew it was just an act. 

"Hey. Where's Nicole?" I asked immediately. My mom shot me a look that literally screamed use your fucking manners or I will tear your head off. "Erm, I mean, good morning."

"She's waiting inside, Harold. Come in, come in," Mrs. Larson smiled. Again, fake.

The couple lead us inside their home, heading straight to the kitchen and dining area. You would think this was a five-star cafe. The grand dining table was a work of art with its precise carvings and design. And the food. . . a majority of them were French pastries, things you wouldn't eat on a daily basis. I wondered if they always ate like this for breakfast. I would like to see how dinner is, if that's the case.

"Harry? Babe?" A voice called out from the staircase beside us. Her voice was just so angelic, it makes me swoon.

"Hey, baby," I smiled before pulling her into my arms as she waltzed her way towards me. Just as I was about to plant a kiss against her luscious, grapefruit colored lips, she bobbed her head, indicating that her parents were glaring at us. Or maybe it was just me. I let her go immediately and made my way to an empty seat right next to hers.

----

We all ate in silence, however, my mom became somewhat of a nuisance as she chewed loudly. I rolled my eyes at her as Nicole slightly giggled. By the time my appetite was satisfied, there were still a lot of goods left over. I had the urge to ask to take some home, but that would be rude. Maybe if I just asked politely they would let . . .

"So, Nicole. . . did you tell Harry about your future plans?" Mr. Larson said. His tone was almost as eerie and bothersome as a graveyard. Sometime here wasn't right. 

"Dad," Nicole hissed. She shifted her chair towards me, but I had a sense she was guilty.

"Oh, come on, dear. You wouldn't want to leave Harold hanging," Mrs. Larson whispered. 

I sat there, trying to decipher what the hell was going on. No one was talking, no one was explaining anything to me. "Nicole, what's going on?" I asked.

Her eyes were filled with sorrow and misery, I wish I could take all of that away. "Harry, I'm sorry," she whimpered.

"For what?"

"Babe, I'm moving. To America. I don't know if I'm coming back here to Holmes Chapel. I'm sorry," she sobbed. 

Moving? Never coming back? What about us?