Mocked: A Marcel Fanfic

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen




I wake up with a stabbing pain between my eyebrows. I try to sit up but end up groaning and flopping back down. The light escaping through the curtains is too bright. I grab a pillow and press it against my face.

What the hell happened last night?

I remember drinking. And I remember a lot of it.

Veronica. Her face shows up clearly in my mind.

My body tenses at the memory of pressing against her. Did I sleep with her? No. The tight, borrowed clothes are still on me.

"Veronica!" I exclaim, the sudden realization of where I am hitting me hard. I sit up, the pillow being throw off me, and immediately groan. Bad mistake. I fall back down onto the bed.

Good job, Styles. You've managed to fuck yourself up.

I widen my eyes at my thoughts. I never curse. Why does it feel natural suddenly?

There's a soft knock at the door before it opens. Veronica walks in with a tray of food. She sets it beside me and sits on the bed.

"Well, you look like shit," she says.

"Good morning to you too," I say back sarcastically. I look over at the plate of food. Bacon, eggs, and a couple pancakes. I frown at the food.

"What's wrong?" Veronica notices my reaction.

"Mother doesn't let me eat that. Do you have Cheerios?" She must find me amusing because she starts laughing.

"You don't eat bacon?!"

"I don't eat meat."

"Pancakes and eggs aren't meat," she points out.

"They're not healthy," I reply.

Veronica grabs the plate and puts it on my lap. She grabs a piece of bacon. I watch a bit of grease slide off of it, landing on the pancake. The drop of oil disappears into the pancake within seconds.

Disgusting.

"Harry, do you remember last night?" She asks, examining the piece of bacon. I nod and tell her of course. "You got drunk for the first time. You got out of those terrible clothes. And you started cursing. Now, today, you will eat different food for the first time. And you will thank me." She holds the bacon out for me and I eye it.

"It honestly does not look appetizing to me." Mother already told me I'm getting fat. Bacon is on the list of foods I can't eat.

Veronica groans and tosses the bacon back down on the plate. "Look, Harry, you're hungover right now. The fattier and carbier the food is, the better you will feel. You have to eat this," she says to me resolutely. I keep my mouth shut, holding in my comment towards her word "carbier."

My stomach grumbles just to prove her right, that I do need to eat. I sigh and pick up the fork, cutting off an edge of the fried egg. I put it in my mouth and grimace at the texture. I'd much prefer my crunch Cheerios.

"You have to eat it all together. Otherwise, you don't get the entire aspect of the food," she directs and grabs my fork, cutting off pieces of everything and piling it together. She holds the fork up to my mouth and glares at me until I open and let her place the food in my mouth.

I let out a moan. The food is tastier than anything I've eaten. The bacon crunches as I chew, countering the egg texture. The pancake is sweet with something that I can't point out. I swallow it down and take a sip of the water she brought as well.

"Well, judging from that small moan, I'm going to say you like it," she inquires, smiling at me. I feel my cheeks heat up. I actually moaned from food.

"What's in the pancake? Why is it sweet?" I ask curiously.

Veronica thinks I'm joking with her but when I don't say anything else, she stops smiling. "Oh shit, you're serious. That's chocolate, Harry. Have you ever had chocolate?" I don't want to tell her the truth. "You haven't?! What the actual hell?! What do you even eat?!" She jumps off the bed so suddenly, pacing around the room.

"Vegetables and fruit. I can have a roll every other night at dinner. I've got a hidden bag of Haribos gummies though. That's the only candy I've eaten. They smell like fruit so Mother can't ever tell," I explain, feeling once again like the joke in the room.

"So you've never had a chocolate bar?" Veronica asks.

I shake my head. "Nope."

"And you've never eaten meat?!"

"My dad gave me fried chicken once. I got a couple bites of it before Mother took it away. I accidentally ate a pepperoni that was hidden in a pizza once." As I say it, I realize how pathetic it sounds. Here I am, an eighteen year old in high school, and I haven't eaten anything.

Veronica shakes her head and walks back over to me. "Damn," she mutters.

She grabs my plate and I instantly reach for it back. "Wait! I'm eating that!" I exclaim. My head pounds at my sudden yell.

Veronica just shakes her head. "No you're not. You're going to eat other food. Come on," she takes my hand and pulls me out of bed. I groan at the pounding headache and almost fall over. "I'll get you some pills for that headache. Grab your glasses and lets go."

I look over at the small table by the bed and pick up my glasses. I must have taken them off last night before passing out. I put them on and follow Veronica out.

"Hopefully it's some good food," I say even though I know it has to be.

So that's what I do for the next hour and a half. I sit at the counter in Veronica's large kitchen and eat samples of food she places in front of me. I find out that I really like steak, but I'm not a fan of sourdough bread. I refuse to eat some form of eel and she just laughs and agrees that one was a little out there.

Finally, my stomach feels too full to put another bite of food in my mouth and Veronica stops serving me food. The pills she forced me to take earlier have thankfully calmed my headache to a dull roar in the back of my mind.

"So? Do you like it?" Veronica asks as she sits beside me on a stool.

"I never knew what I was missing," I say. "I always thought steak would taste like a dead cow."

Veronica gives me a weird look and then brings out a black wrapped item. She places it in front of me. "Chocolate," she says and pushes it towards me. "Go ahead and eat it."

I might as well since I've already eaten all the other foods. I unwrap the chocolate bar and stare at the dark brown bar. I can already smell it. I break off a piece and bring it up slowly. Veronica watches my every move.

I eat it and don't even try to suppress my moan.

Chocolate is heavenly. The sweet. The smooth. The everything about it. It's perfect.

I don't know what gets into me, but I lean towards Veronica and press my lips against hers. The chocolate still in my mouth, but I kiss her.

The next thing I know, I'm sprawled across the floor and my cheek stings. I look up at Veronica whose mouth is dropped open in shock.

"You need to leave," she whispers. I notice her hands trembling at her sides. "Leave, Harry."

I push myself to a sitting position. "Why? What did I do wrong? Why did you slap me?!" I feel confused. Surely she knew I wanted to kiss her. I thought she wanted it as well.

I'm never wrong.

Veronica shakes her head angrily and I watch a tear slide down her cheek. Why is she crying?

"I said leave," she spits out, her voice low.

And then she leaves.

I know one thing for certain: it's not just the way she walks.