RUNAWAY [[A Harry Styles and Marcel fanfic]]

c-four-

~.*.*.*.~

The gravelled road is rough against my small feet and the sun has heated it enough to make my soles blister. But that isn’t going to stop me. Not yet, at least. I whimper as my feet step onto the small gravels on the road, nevertheless carrying my sprint.

I’ve tried to walk apace for about quite a few minutes now, and i see the cars parked, lined towards the pavement, to as far as my eyes could reach. How many people were invited and did all of them decide to show up? If any of them see me running, or for that matter walking now, i would be in some deep shit, because guess what, i am the only one in a stupid bridal costume.

A car gate opens and a drunken couple stumble outside, almost falling off the rear seat, giggling like idiots and the boy’s eyes rake up and down my body. Their formal clothing suggests that they were invited to be a part of the wedding, which sadly is going to be called off in a while. Only if i make it out of here in time. My subconscious never fails to bring me back to the ground.

“h-hey! You’re the bride.” The guy slurs from behind me, my guards are up again, a sense of alarm running through my bones.

I turn around and yell a ‘Fuck You’ before taking a left diversion. This looks more deserted, but is still lined with those rich ass shiny cars. Was the entire A-list aristocrat a part of the invitee list? My mind gets clogged by various thoughts, like would be going on inside and how much humiliation will i have to go through if i am caught. No!

There is no way i am going back in there, not as long as i am alive. A similar sound awakens my mind more than before; the constant and peculiar beeping sound which indicates a car is being pulled out of curb in its reverse gear. The beeping sound isn’t just any car. It is daddy’s car.

Shit!

How long did it take me to reach here? I have not even covered one block and i need some bushel to hide or something. The search squad has been assigned to duty. Nothing is more precious to my parents’ than their pride. They will do anything to get me back.

Panic washes over me, as the vexing beep ceases, only telling that it is advancing towards someone. Towards me. I frantically try to find places to hide, the garbage bin even. But its of no use. There aren’t any in the five hundred meter vicinity.

Plan B.

I pull at the doors of the gates of the damning rich cars, if only one slut among them open up. i kick even, and only stop when the thought of security alarm going off crosses my mind. i am reaching the end of the line of cars, praying some dope has left their car unlocked… and as i am done hoping, on the verge of giving up, one car gate falls open on pulling, almost knocking me on the ground due to the force i applied.

The car is a black Range Rover, and it looks almost new, or maybe the owner takes way too much care of it. I don’t bother to have a look at the number plate and analyse the time when it was purchased or registered, because if i had had that much time, i wouldn’t have been running barefoot in a wedding gown with fucking high heels gripped in my hands.

Thank you Mr, whoever you are. May you get the best punk in your life? I smile stupidly and slide inside, hiding in the leg room of the rear seat, jumping over the rear seat, into the dickey. I am not even going to look up, just in case my head or hair or whatever this shit on my head is called shows up from outside. I lock myself as well, so that if someone decides to be as intelligent as me, i don’t end up being as stupid as the girl i once was, again.

The car is getting from my hot tired breath. Being parked under the sun makes it hotter. And the fact that circumstances take away the liberty from me to roll down the windows, i am trapped in this greenhouse.