Past Or Present? (A Niall Horan and Harry Styles Fan Fiction) (*ON HOLD*)

Chapter Two: Nothing's Coming Back To Me!

"Right, where do you want to put these?" Harry asked me, picking up a pile of clothes from out of a brown cardboard box.

It was a joint decision that we should change our room around a little bit. Well, actually it was Harry's idea and I agreed. It didn't turn out at all as planned though. Not that anything ever did. We ordered; two new white wardrobes with mirrors and pull out draws at the bottom and cupboards on top, a dressing table, a massive king sized double bed which came with a velvet, cushiony purple mattress (also including pull out draws underneath), a forty two inch flat screen television to be fitted into the wall, a brown chest of drawers, and a comfortable, rounded pod chair! It was ridiculous but I must admit that I was enjoying making things seem normal and I saw a side to Harry that made me realise what had made him my boyfriend before.

But, obviously, it just had to go wrong, didn’t it? As it turned out, the room was actually too small for all the things we had ordered and the television couldn’t be fitted into the walls due to some random shit reason which I didn’t eve bother listening to the work men ramble on about, trying to make up excuses about their poor work.

"Yeah just fling them in the wardrobe for now." I replied carelessly and uncreased the white patterned bed cover. Because of the other bedroom not being 'suitable' for mine, Harry's and the workmen’s liking, we had moved into the biggest bedroom in the house. I have no idea why Harry and I didn’t just bag the biggest bedroom when we first moved to the house anyway. I guess that was yet another weird thing I had yet to learn about myself.

So after a lot of pushing, shoving and heaving (from the workmen and not Harry) they managed to get three quarters of the new furniture and things into the room and then stalked off for their lunch! They were so lazy! Think about it:

Their job is to do up the house, make it look nice, move things around that can't be moved easily and decorate! But no, they just move a couple of things get tired half way through and saunter off as if it was nothing!

When they turned back up we sent them away with some money and told them we would do it ourselves. IT actually only took Harry fifteen minutes to move the two wardrobes and the bed into the new bedroom and sort them all out. The walls already had creamy coloured patterned wallpaper on it and there was already a red carpet on the floor so all we needed to do was sort everything out.

"Okay." Harry shrugged, folding the jumper up and neatly putting it into my wardrobe.

I threw a blue hoody that must have been his at him and it landed on his head. "You don’t have to try so hard!" I complained.

"I'm not! I'm just.......... naturally a neat and tidy person that’s all." he flashed a smile at me, showing off all his big, white teeth and folding up more of my clothes very slowly and making sure every crease was out of them before placing them into the wardrobe with extra care. He was just doing it to get on my nerves and when he started up again I chucked another hoody at him which was possibly mine.

Half an hour later......

Yes, that's how long it took to finish off the new bedroom completely. Thirty minutes. I know for a fact that if those fat, lazy piss takes had been involved it would have definitely took them three in a half hours at least. They had a way of moving things very slowly, checking every second of the time that nothing was wrong.

I was glad that Harry and I had the opportunity to do it ourselves though because we got to spend more time together and I learnt a lot more positive things about him than I thought I would of.

I found out that he was; kind, funny, caring and possibly had O.C.D all in half an hour!

It actually felt kind of weird being in the house with my boyfriend but not even knowing my boyfriend, the house or anything else. It just didn’t feel right for some reason and it didn’t feel like I had ever lived there, even though I had probably known everything about the house, where we lived and everything about Harry only barely a week ago!

I kept waiting for something to bring it all back. A spark, a song, a photo, anything to make me remember and make it come soaring into my mind again.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Days went by. I had to sleep, eat, talk with and do everything with a stranger. A very kind stranger though even though he did keep trying to kiss me, hold my hand and hug me, Sometimes I gave in because I felt sorry for him but other times I pushed him away and had to stand there as I watched his face drop and his bright eyes turn sad and lonely.

I knew I couldn’t do that anymore. I couldn't just expect it to all come flowing back into my mind as if I had never been in a car crash (which was Harry's fault), nearly died and lost my memory. I just couldn’t kid myself anymore.

It wasn’t going to come back to me. I just had to face it.

And I had to do something about it.