Multiple [h.s] - ON HOLD

Chapter 16

"What time is it?" I asked Jane, waking up from my slumber with a yawn.

"It's five on a Sunday afternoon," a voice that is definitely not Jane's answered me. I shot up from my laying state in alarm of who is in my dorm room.

"What are you doing here?"

"It is my room so..." Harry replied.

I looked around the room and realised I wasn't at the dorms. "Why am I in your room?"

"You were to out of it on Friday so you fell asleep here. You have been out since."

I drew up my knees to meet my chest and I brushed my hands over my face in embarrassment. While doing so I realised I wasn't in my clothes.

"Don't worry. Your friend came in a couple of times to uhh...change...you" Harry said, noticing my panic.

"What? Wha- what's today's date?"

"14th"

"Shit," I muttered under my breathe. A heat sensation crawled my face as I tried to look everywhere else that is not Harry's direction.

"Would you like anything?" He offered.

"No thank you. I will just call Kelly to pick me up."

He looked at the watch on his wrist and spoke. "Well she has to be here in ten minutes anyway."

"What?"

"Yeah I called her to come over because I was panicking that you weren't waking up."

"How long was I out?" I asked.

"Since Friday night actually," he chuckled lightly to himself while my face reddened in embarrassment.

Harry ran a hand through his long hair and I noticed his hand was in a bandage and just above the bandage, his hand was slightly purple.

He slowly slid his hand back in his pocket when he realized I was staring at it. The atmosphere in the room shifted from awkward to..awkward-er.

"Could I change quickly please?" I asked him.

He nodded his head but made no move for the door.

I climbed off the bed and it came to me that I don't have any clothes here.

Harry walked across the room to his closet and took out a plain black shirt, maroon sweat pants and a black hoodie. "Here. It's a bit cold outside for that shirt," he said pointing to his thin shirt I had on.

"Yeah. Thank you."

He left the room to let me change. His clothes smelt just like him: like a winter. A stormy winter night. It was a strange scent but it brought a smile to my face, knowing how close I was to Harry Styles. Once I was done getting dressed, I started to walk around and look at the CDs and novels stocked up on his shelves. A few classics every now and then. I never took him for quiet the type to store novels and CDs like these.

On the shelf, I came across a think, unlabeled black file. I reached for it and opened to the first page in it.

The writing seemed like some sort of poem scribbled on it:

All too soon it happened. He had been expecting it all his life but never had he anticipated the impact it would have on him, so soon and so quickly.

It's New.

It begins as all stories do: Tragically .

So simple, so easy to conjure. But as do all stories do, this had a twist and a skull crushing finale. He saw, in her, everything that he saw in them yet not so revoltingly ruthless but invitingly vulnerable. He saw in her a white flame burning inclosed within an icy shell . He was intrigued by the pain caused by said temptresses. He wanted love and she possibly wanted affection. She gave him affection and he gave her love . Strangely, a complicated infatuation became of this . Contradictory to who they are and what they'd become . She cried on the outside but truly smiled on the inside- her eyes giving it away . He smiled on the outside but wept like an infant on the inside . Their contrasting mannerisms and behaviour made them ideal for one another, yet in actuality they proved to only invite one another in an attempt to satisfy their own underlying insatiable desires. He dreamt of pain, she sought for asylum. Tragically they got life . He was granted an asylum and she an unmatchable pain. He could see it in her. Her smile said one thing, but her clear hazel eyes said another....

"That is private Leigh," I jumped at the sudden voice behind me and dropped the whole filed on the floor. My vision was blurred and I realised I had been crying.

Was I crying because I thought the poem was about me? Or was I crying because there might be some other affection-craving girl that Harry is giving love to? Shedding tears over a poem that probably isn't even about me. He couldn't know what I wanted. He couldn't know how I felt.

Could he? Was I that transparent?

I turned around too quickly, lost my stepping and hit my head on the shelf next to us. I looked up in hopes that it wasn't Harry behind me, but unfortunately, his voice is too unique to mistake for anyone. I knew it was him.

"Get out," he shouted.

My body wouldn't moved from my spot but my mind was already in the dorms.

"Get the fuck out!" He shouted louder while staring at his file that was on the floor.

"I-I'm so sorry Harry," I managed to say before I ran out of the bedroom. A whirlwind of emotions swirling inside of me, each wanting desperately to make themselves known and takeover.

Right now you are probably thinking: She made me wait so long for such a shitty poems insert and an even worse chapter overall?

And I'm thinking: Yeah I kinda did. But I am sorry! Really really.

P.s ,That poem I wrote goes on for long. I'll probably put the rest in the next chapters.

But anyways. I'm sorry!

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