Offbeat || Harry Styles

Chapter 19

Shit.

I nervously pat my hair and touch my face before stepping into the house, shooting Harry a quick, helpless look. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest as he inspected my face. Surely, fear was written all over it but that didn't seem to stop Harry from introducing me to his father before even warning me.

You deserve it. Now, shut up and be a nice human, my subconscious hissed and I mentally roll my eyes.

A tall man appeared at the doorway, confusion etched on his face when his eyes landed on his son and I. I awkwardly wave my hand before realizing that it inappropriate then outstretched my hand for him to shake. He squinted his eyes at me before offering a small smile that reached his eyes and eased my discomfort. He accepted my hand and shook it.

A breath of air I didn't know I was holding was released as I straightened my figure, satisfied. "I'm Tim, sir. Nice to meet you."

"Ah, the famous Tim," he said, shooting a wink in Harry's direction, who squirmed under his father's gaze. "Pleasure's all mine. Come on in, you two. It's freezing outside."

I mentally thank God that he didn't notice the small bump on Harry's forehead that wasn't that obvious but looked like it hurt. I walk into their living room with Harry next to me, who still didn't speak a word since we stepped into his home. I take a seat on the maroon couch.

"Would you two like some dinner? I was cooking up some chicken," Harry's father gently asked. I like him already.

"Uhm, sure. Thanks." I shoot him a smile, earning one return before he turned on his heels and went into the kitchen.

It was just Harry and I now.

"Does your forehead hurt?" I lower my voice as I ask him. My eyes are glued to his face, waiting for a sign of discomfort but it never showed up.

He shook his head, winced, but didn't say a word. I frown at him, knowing that he's lying. I don't want him to be uncomfortable. I suddenly feel like I'm intruding.

"Hey," I softly say,"If you don't want me here, I'll leave."

"No. You can stay, it's fine." He replied, but was still frowing at the ground. "Come. I'll show you my room."

I follow his steps, my eyes moving from a wall to another, admiring the picture frames hung on them. I smiled at one, Harry cuddled up between his two fathers, a genuine smile etched on each of their faces.
We reach the end of the hallway, and Harry opens his bedroom's door. He steps aside, leaving space for me to come in. I silently cross my arms against my chest, taking in my surroundings. Hung on his walls was pictures of him and his Dads, and one with Cameron. I squirm in my place, taking my eyes off the picture of the two attractive men and wish it was me instead of Cameron. I turn on my heels to face Harry.

He stands as a statue as I approach him, standing right in front of him. I raise my hand to his face, my fingers slightly touching the small bump on his forehead. My brows furrow as he winces, obviously in pain even though he claimed otherwise.

"Should've known, " I muttered to myself, disapprovingly shaking my head at him. I sigh and run my fingers through my slightly wet hair. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Did someone cut off your tongue?"

Harry frowned, poking his tongue out as he shook his head. "No, it's still there."

I try to stifle my giggle with a sigh."God, Harry. I know it's still there."

"I know you know it's still there."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"Very."

I sigh and uncross my arms then cross them again."Harry," I start but he interrupts me.

"No, Timmy. I don't want to be someone you hide in the shadows with." He states, his bold, bright eyes burning holes through me. I gasp, blinking a few times at him before gaining posture again.
"You know that isn't up to me. Hell Harry, if I could be around you all the time, every single day, I wouldn't complain."

"I can't hide forever, Timmy," his tone softens as he sighs, his shoulders slumping as he takes a seat on the edge of his bed. I purse my lips and join him.

"I know. I'm sorry." I sincerely tell him, grasping his warm hand between mine. This time, thankfully, he doesn't pull away. I shoot him a small smile.

"You know I care about you, Timmy," he whispers. My heart beat quickens.

"I care about you, too."

***
"So, you two," Harry's father says after he finished chewing. I clear my throat and set down my fork and knife. "How did you meet?"

My eyes flicker towards Harry, who looked pretty comfortable, giving me the reassurance that I need before turning to his father again. "We met at the library a few months ago."

He hums in response, shooting Harry a look of amusement. "So that's where you are every day."

"Yep." Harry grins at him as he raises his fork to his mouth.

Harry's dad can cook, I think as I devour the rest of my chicken. He still seems nice to me, keeping it cool and nice so far. I hope it remains the same.

After dinner, we are all sitting in the living room. I am sitting on a couch next to Harry, facing his father. He is playing with his fingers, his eyes flickering between us.

"Are you together?" He finally asks, his mouth set in a thin line. I gulp and squirm in my seat, glancing at Harry as if asking for help. He blinks at me before turning to his father.

"Yeah, dad. We are."

"And how will this work, Harry?" He calmly says, no trace of disapproval in his tone, just concern. I press my lips together.

"It will." Harry firmly says, giving me a look full of determination. I smile at him.

"Are you sure, son? You know how they get. I don't want them to hurt you."

"As long as nobody knows about this, we are safe. Please, dad, don't mention this to anyone." Harry pleaded.

His father's eyes flickered between Harry and I, his eyes coated with tears. He suddenly moved forward and embraced both Harry and I tightly. I didn't react immediately, but when he squeezed us tighter, he brought back some sense into me and made me hug him back. I found myself tearing up, too.

Acceptance. We've got it.