15 Years // harry styles

chapter nineteen

H

Bailey's eyes are wide, a burning anger in the emerald pools glaring at me, but I can see a little glimmer of relief too. I hope.

"You took a baby out in New York winter and walked 12 blocks? You absolute idiot," she groans, taking Freddie, whose still screaming, out of my arms.

"Jesus H your hands are like ice, no wonder he's crying," she mumbles, running over and throwing a blanket my way. I can tell it was the one she was using, from the warmth and the smell of her. It's the most comfortable I've felt since the last night I saw her.

"He's supposed to have a bottle, but he wouldn't take it for me. I didn't know what else to do, so I just came here. I'm hoping you're good with babies, or at least better than me," I murmur, pulling the blanket around me tighter. My fingers are still tingling from the cold.

B rolls her eyes at me but starts to rummage through the diaper bag, grabbing the bottle and popping the lid off with ease. She slips it into the microwave, warming it for a few seconds before taking it out, shaking it and putting it to Freddie's lips.

His cries immediately cease as he latches on, sucking eagerly on the bottle. Bailey sends me a smirk, but it fades away quickly and she's back to glaring at me.

"Baile-" I start, but she puts up a finger on her free hand, silencing me.

"No. You don't get to trap me here while I try to get this baby to sleep. You sit there and wait. Then we'll talk." Her voice is stern, but her eyes are warm when she looks down at Freddie.

I nod, curling up in the reading nook and trying to warm my hands, my eyes trained on them.

I hadn't realized how much I missed Bailey until now; having her so close yet not being able to hold her and kiss her might as well be torture.

She looks effortlessly beautiful, as always, and it damn near rips my heart in two every time I look at her. It's fucking terrifying, the effect she has on me.

"Stop staring at me," she mumbles, bouncing Freddie a little as she gets up, walking around.

"What would you like me to look at?" I ask, not averting my eyes.

"There's a whole fucking city right below you. Try that."

"I'd much prefer to look at you."

"Oh shut up," she grumbles, but I can see the red in her cheeks.

I don't want to shut up. I have so much to tell her. You're much more beautiful than those damned white walls of my hotel room that have been staring at me for the last two days. More gorgeous than a whole arena of lights, more enticing and awe-inspiring than anything I've ever seen in the world and I'm absolutely terrified of losing you please understand that.

The words stay knotted in my throat. I try to swallow them down but they stay there as B walks into the other room, a sleeping Freddie resting in her arms.

She comes back a few minutes later, sitting on the couch and staring at her hands. The room feels cold.

"Please don't. Please don't do that I can't stand it," I whisper after too long of listening to the cars outside, too long of a silence. My voice cracks and my throat burns a little, tears starting to well up.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't hate me. I can't let you hate me Bailey I know a lot of people in the world hate me but you can't. Not you." I hadn't planned on crying when I came here. But I can't help it.

"I don't hate you Harry, I couldn't hate you if I wanted to. But you have to understand what you did to me. I've never told anyone besides Kelsey about Trevor. Ever. I've never had a boyfriend. Ever. So imagine what it's like to have your first boyfriend and you tell him your deep dark secret and you expect him to stick with you and make it through it, and he says he will. And your heart flies and you feel safe for the first time in a long time and then what happens? He leaves. He just fucking leaves and sends a text. Imagine how that feels Harry."

She's crying now, her cheeks stained and a few dark circles have formed on my packers sweatshirt.

"I never meant to hurt you Bailey. I just- I'm famous. People follow me everywhere and Lydia told me if the paparazzi got a picture of you that it'd be like a death sentence. And I realized that night that I'm a threat to you, I'm dangerous for you. I couldn't stand to see you get hurt because of me, so I figured the only way to keep you safe was to go away."

"No. God dammit Harry, don't you get it?! You don't get to decide what's dangerous for me. You think I didn't think about my picture being on the front of magazines and him finding one? You think I haven't been paranoid this whole god damn time about him finding me, hurting me, hell, hurting you? You think that for even a second I can think about anything other than fearing him?

"So no Harry, you don't get to decide you're dangerous. I know you're dangerous for me, and I don't care. I get to decide. Not you. Not Lydia. Not Trevor. Me. So you don't get to just leave me. You don't get to do that."

She's stuttering over her words now, broken sobs soaking into the pages of the books beside us.

I can't stand it any longer. I get up out of the nook, and she stands up with me. In two steps out bodies collide. I wrap myself around her, holding her to me as tight as I can. Her arms loop around my neck and she clings to me, tears still falling and all I want is for them to stop.

"I'm not gonna leave you Bailey. I'm not going anywhere. I will never leave you again," I whisper in her ear, kissing her temple with quivering lips, fighting back my own tears.

I walk us backwards towards the reading nook, picking her up so I can sit down, her facing me in my lap. I stroke her hair and whisper reassurances in her ear until she falls asleep against my shoulder, fingers still clinging to the back of my shirt.