Twenty-Nine Dolls [H.S. AU]

7. Callie - 2012

"You're walking around your suitcase, 

saying you'd never leave this place"

2012

Long and certain strides were supposed to keep me away from him. They were supposed to give me some sort of escape when I needed to keep away from him. The distance between us was supposed to give me a chance of survival. He didn't need me, but I craved him. His presence in my life was what made things worth while in my eyes. However hard I tried to deny it, the addiction I had to his life made me weak. It made me feeble. That was my biggest flaw.

The walls would vibrate due to the intensity of my speakers blasting out the latest tunes. I would sway my hips to the beat of the constant bass, closing my eyes and ignoring the world around me. The world would rotate with my hips as everything was a perpetual slow motion. Hypnotic. Once I'd dared to open my eyes, I'd look outside to the darkness. My parents' car would be missing but there was always a shadow replacing it. A human silhouette was visible. I'd think it was him and he'd come back to apologise. I'd think it was all a bad dream, that the past was all a figment of my imagination. My hopes would blind my delusional mind and I'd run. My feet would ignore the pain striking through them as I slid across the carpet of the stairs. Yanking the door open, the wind would be the only thing greeting me. I was delusional. But I wouldn't hesitate screaming, "Conor!" Despite my voice being lost in the night air, it gave me a sense of comfort. Maybe I was right.

But maybe I was wrong. While watching Mr Styles preparing something edible to keep me alive, I questioned who that person was in the night. It was more than likely to be Mr Styles himself. The best thing to do to feed my curiosity would be to ask him. However, I didn't know what was coming over me that made me want to stitch my lips together, holding myself back from the thought. The last thing I needed was to know that it was Mr Styles. If it was him, he would have seen me at my weakest, at my strongest, and at my defeat. I wasn't going to give in to that. He'd have watch me cry, smile, scream and dance. Unfortunately, that made me more certain that it was him. 

The shadow in the dark was him.

"What's on your mind?" He asked me. I raised my eyes and shifted uncomfortably in the seat I was bound to.

"Nothing that concerns you." I said, harshly, I must admit. Mr Styles didn't react but simply placed the bowl of thick tomato soup in front of me. Pulling a chair and sitting, he tapped the spoon on the edge of the bowl before filling it with it's contents.

"Open." He ordered as I complied. Slowly feeding me and allowing the hot substances bring my nerves at ease, he placed the spoon back down and looked at me for a second. "You know you can tell me."

"Because there's no one else to tell?"

"No, because you can trust me." He stammered. Leaning back in his seat, he glanced down at his sleeve before tugging at it uneasily. "What do you want to know?"

"What?"

"Well, I guess in order for you to trust me, I need to tell you something about myself." He shrugged, continuously fiddling. His nervous actions got to me for a second. The man was serious.

"Mr Styles-"

"Call me Harry."

"Harry." I emphasised and paused. I didn't want him to feel like I was intrigued, so I shrugged and said, "Tell me something you'd tell anyone else."

"That doesn't make anything special about our friendship." Mr Styles frowned, a small pout forming on his lips.

"This friendship isn't going to be special. When I get out of here, we can get on with our own lives and pretend none of this happened. Just, let me remember something about you that makes you seem less isolated than I ever was or will be." I explained to him. Nodding in understanding, Mr Styles thought for a moment. The crease in between his eyebrows increased in concentration, his fingers moving from his sleeve to his bottom lip.

I didn't understand the need for the exchange of his thoughts even though he admitted it was to gain some of my trust. The fact that he didn't retaliate to my admittance for wanting to leave made me fear him even more as well. Was his balaclava starting to come off?

"Less isolated?" He asked. I nodded. "Well I have a sister." He got to his feet for a second and left the room. I was confused for a moment, left to inhale the fumes coming from the soup in front of me. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes waiting for his return. When he did, the sound of clinking caused me to open my eyes as a picture was revealed. Mr Styles smiled as he showed me something he clearly adored. "This is Gemma."

The framed photograph was placed on the table next to the soup as I looked at it intently, a smile unfolding on my lips. A girl with long blond locks, eyes hidden by round glasses, facial features almost identical to Mr Styles', was next to him. Both smiling. "She's pretty." I told him before I faced his smile.

"Here's another one." He placed another framed photo in front of me as I looked at the two solemnly looking at the camera. Mr Styles looked much younger. My eyes drifted to the so called 'Gemma' as more of her face was revealed.

"I mean, she's beautiful." I honestly told him as he nodded.

"Even though beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I agree with you." He told me, "She is everything I'm not."

"Including beautiful?"

"As I said," His frown returned and a pang of hurt came to my heart. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Placing the two pictures next to each other, he picked the spoon up again and continued to feed me, "There are more photos around the house. Once I'm sure you won't run again, I'll let you roam the place and feel free to see them."

"You remind me of the 90s kids that all my friends are recently trying to replicate." I said.

"Friends?"

"Acquaintances. They're the generation that are trying to bring grunge back."

"Grunge died when Kurt Cobain did." He kept his gaze low as he silenced me with another spoonful. However, he couldn't silence my eyes as they widened in glee.

"Kurt Cobain? You like Nirvana?" I said after gulping with a force that almost made me choke. I was surprised that someone like him would be into such notorious music styles. I'd expect something more classical or eerie from him.

"Yes. I did. Mum didn't really give us a choice." He chuckled while rubbing my back, soothing my thorax from the coughing fit. "Do you?"

"Never really listened to them-"

"What? You haven't?" He somewhat shrieked. "Wait here." With that, he got up and scurried off, the sound of shuffling and thuds made me more and more concerned. Was he going to reveal Kurt Cobain's corpse to me? Anything can be expected at this moment.

"I can't really do anything else!" I called back as his laugh ran through the room. Once he returned, he placed a large gramophone on the larger table next to the sink, placing the needle down on a vinyl carefully as he let the music flow through the room. The music engulfed the room, the soft voice of a male voice flowed to my ears. "Not going to lie, I expected something more-" And I was interrupted by the cry of the lead singer.

"I like this song, it's calming." Mr Styles smiled, giving me the last of my soup.

"So do I."

"You have so much to learn." He told me taking the bowl and spoon, throwing them into the sink.

"About you?"

"About everything."

--A/N--

DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT XO