15 Years // harry styles

chapter three

B

I scramble through my bag, my keys cold against my frantic fingers as I yank the chain upwards. I grab onto the mace spray that usually swings precariously there, finger on top of the button as I whirl around, crouching over the headstone and scanning the area.

"Whose there?!" I yell, trying to keep my voice steady.

I hear a rustle from behind a grave a few rows in front of me. Looking closer, I can make out the outline of a head. Whoever it is is crouched down behind a rather old stone, but he peaks out from behind it very slowly, hands raised.

I feel myself lowering the mace as I take in his features. His hair is long for a boys, curls falling just a little below his shoulders. He's wearing a black shirt that's wet in some places from the rain earlier, and I can see the black fabric of his jeans from the side. He begins to raise up and I can see the fear in his green eyes. There's something very familiar about them.

I immediately stow my 'weapon', the blood rushing to my cheeks faster than ever as I realize he isn't who I was fearing. The relief is immediately drowned in embarrassment.

I cannot believe I just did that.

I cannot believe I just did that.

"I am so sorry." I mumble, throwing my keys back in the bag.

The boy is standing at his full height now, and he walks over to me slowly. His hair is down to his shoulders in loose curls, and he's quite tall. I frown a little; he looks familiar, like a long last friend that you can't quite name.

"It's alright. I didn't mean to scare you, sorry," he says cautiously, his British accent thick and suddenly, it clicks. My stomach drops. I knew I recognized him. From the magazines and the album covers and Twitter and Tumblr and everywhere else in the world.

Of course. Today of all days. Of fucking course.

"You're...."

"Yeah. That's me." His smile is shy, and he looks quite nervous. I know he's waiting to see how I'm going to react.

"I'm not going to rat you out if that's what's concerning you," I smile a little, picking at the grass, still embarrassed.

"Well I hope not, considering you just tried to spray thee Harry Styles with mace." He chuckles, my cheeks growing hot again, but I can tell he doesn't mean anything by it. "Mind if I join you?"

I shake my head, scooting to the side of my blanket and making a space for him. He sits down, crossing his legs and taking his camera strap off his neck, laying it beside him. I try to find words to break the silence, but I can't quite find any to fit the situation. I'm sitting on a blanket, on my parents grave, on their death date, with Harry Styles of all people.

Life is weird.

"I really am sorry I scared you. If it makes you feel better, I wasn't taking a picture of you, I saw a squirrel with a really big piece of ham in its mouth and I found it quite entertaining," he grins at me, and I can't help but laugh a little.

"It's alright, I'm just weird about strangers. I have my reasons."

He nods in understanding, sensing I don't feel like talking about it. I watch his eyes flicker to the headstone, then back to meet mine. They're as green as the grass below us, and I find myself staring at them longer then I should.

"Your parents?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I was five, it's been a while."

He gives me a sympathetic smile, and I can see the genuineness behind it. It's different from the smile I've seen in pictures of him. It's warmer. "That doesn't mean it's any easier."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

The silence returns, but this time I don't feel so prompted to break it. He sits quietly beside me, seeming to enjoy the peacefulness as much as I am. Eventually though, I decide to ask him some questions, knowing I'll regret it if I don't.

"So, shouldn't you be surrounded by 25 body guards headed into an arena of screaming girls, Mr. Styles?"

"We're actually on a short break, so no arenas for a little while longer. The security however, that took some evading on my part."

"Better not make that a habit, you'll end up getting maced by some crazy girl in a cemetery."

That gets a giggle out of him, and I feel my stomach flip at the sound. And as I look over at him, sitting beside me on my old blanket, I feel like I've know him forever. It's almost unsettling, how at ease I am with him. Yet I find myself thinking that maybe - just maybe- today doesn't have to be so awful after all.