Fire (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 22

“Where are we going?” I asked excitedly, skipping along side Harry. His face held a patronizing smirk as he looked down on me; I was acting like a toddler on their first Halloween trip. To be fair, I had never done anything like this before, I had always been a very indoorsy person, I’d never had a massive group of popular friends who partied every weekend, I was more used to just staying inside and reading a book or doing something creative.

“Will you hush child?” He boomed in a joking yet low monotone. He was still giggling slightly at my childish antics although I stopped being quite so hyper. I sarcastically wrapped my arm around his, standing bolt upright and walking alongside him mockingly.

“This okay?” I asked, looking deep into his emerald eyes. He shot me a disapproving glare, but quickly burst into a frenzy of apathetic laughter. He bowed his head down, and his brown curls fell over his forehead. As he slowly raised his head once again, he pulled his hand back over his hair and created a gentle quiff.

He grabbed my hip and spun me around so my whole body faced him, placing a passionate kiss on my lips. The embrace lingered for a few seconds, before Harry pulled away, licking his lips erotically and grazing his teeth on his plump lower lip.

“That’s perfect.” He answered, his tone low and sensual. I couldn’t help but quiver a little bit under his touch. His scent made my legs turn to rubber, his stare caused my heart to stop, and his kiss…well his kiss was deathly, intoxicatingly perfect, overwhelmingly brilliant, he made me feel alive.

He placed his hand back in my own, and continued to walk down the dimly lit alleyway. We happily walked in silence, although in no way was it awkward, the sounds of the busy street behind us filling our ears. As we walked, we passed many building, all housing the drunken fools that once graced the streets, there were pubs littered all around London, none of them being the venue of Harry’s choice. Although the walk we had was long, it didn’t come across as a challenge; we walked in a gentle stroll, hand in hand and out our own pace. After about twenty minutes Harry stopped, looking up at a sign that adorned a fancy building. The windows were clouded from halfway down, allowing us only to see the tops of the standees heads. Inside I noticed people carrying trays, people sitting at tables and one bar in the far corner.

It almost looked like a restaurant, although it seemed far too casual. Harry slid past me without my noticing, there was a long queue outside, with eager participants all lined up. Harry stood at the front, outside the barrier; he was waiting, for what I’m not sure. Eventually a woman with a headpiece and clipboard walked out, a broad smile appearing on her face as she saw Harry.

“Shit.” Harry muttered from beside me, his fists clenching into tight balls as the woman slid closer towards him, unaware of my presence. I retained a calm manner, hoping that this was not what I thought it was. The rather rude woman placed herself in between Harry; completely cutting me off from whatever conversation they were about to have.

“Well, hey there cutie.” It was then I noticed her American accent. Her hair flowed in long blonde waves, her face showed extraordinary beauty, although it was quite clearly due to some form of plastic surgery. I surveyed her attire, she wore skin-tight black leggings that clung to her audacious bum, and showed off her beautifully in proportion curves. Harry towered above her, looking over her head and staring longingly into my eyes.

Inside, I was mortified, broken, hurt…every kind of sadness. I felt betrayed, although I didn’t know why, Harry clearly had no current interest in the woman, although the fact that he once did, that he once (obviously) had sex with her killed me. She was stunning. I was nothing in comparison. It wasn’t until her gaze tore from his body that she noticed me, lingering in the background, my hand placed on my elbow shyly. Her face hardened slightly, I could tell she was a little embarrassed of her bold actions as she finally recognised I was here with Harry.

“Oh, who are you?” She asked in a harsh and bitchy tone, her hand was placed on her hip and her eyes narrowed as she surveyed my body.

“I-I’m just a friend of Harry’s.” I pleaded weakly. Whoever she was, she intimidated me, she stood almost the same height as Harry, and her stance forced me to cower a little as she moved closer. She tutted as I spoke, whipping her hair back around to face Harry, her locks hitting my face as she did. Harry looked at me astounded, a pained expression on his face as the woman continued to shamelessly touch Harry’s chest. I felt my eyes well up as she did, and without hesitation, I awkwardly scuttled off into the place where Harry had chosen. The room was filled with people, and I could clearly see now that this was some form of concert hall, the small wooden stage at the front giving it away, all around the room there were leather chairs dotted along with small side tables. I turned my head back around to gaze out the window where I saw Harry and the tall blonde. Her hands caressed his face and chest as she spoke, I didn’t know what she was saying, but I could tell it was something dirty from the expression on her face. Harry stood still, looking down on her in disgust, I knew his rule: he’d never lay his hands on a woman, although I could tell he wanted to, I wanted to.

I prepared my small frame to march outside and throw a punch on her, but the blast of the speakers stopped me, I threw my hands over my ears, trying to protect them from the warm up testing that the microphone on stage was going through.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen…” The voice sounded, I wasn’t paying a lot of attention, my mind firmly set on beating the shit out of this woman. “David Bowie!” The male voice shouted from behind me. I froze in position, a look of shock on my face, I slowly turned around, eager to find out if this was a tribute act, expecting some fat balding man to walk on stage with a flimsy costume supposed to resemble Ziggy. But no, oh no. I saw him, his hair falling to his cheekbones; his eyes narrowed in a loving smile directed at all the people in the small audience. I was astounded. He was there, he was really there. He made his way to the centre of the stage, his multi-coloured gaze still locked on his adoring audience, an audience that I felt was too small for such a hero. But I knew that as long as I felt what I did, as long as I felt that undenying love for this man, that was okay, that was enough.

I immediately understood why Harry had brought me here, he’d seen my reaction to his song, and he’d seen my love. He knew.

“Hello.” David spoke calmly, raising a hand in gesture to us. I was still standing away from the crowd, near the wooden door.

“So, I’ve been told that this one is for a ‘very special girl called Violet.’” He announced. My heart stopped and my mouth fell open as the first riff of my song played. I placed my hand on my heart and turned back to search for Harry, expecting him to still be in the clutches of the awful female, he was, he was standing bolt upright, trying to keep the anger I saw bottled away. She wasn’t having him. Now…now he was mine. I balled up my fists and almost smashed through the door, pulling back my fist as I made temporary eye contact with the unsuspecting female. I delivered a heavy punch to her ribs. She fell on the ground with a thud, her hands planting themselves on the metal manhole cover by the side of the road. She wasn’t in substantial pain, but enough to satisfy me.

“That’s right, pipe the fuck down.” I said as I mockingly looked over her. I grabbed Harry’s face and momentarily saw the expression of pride, surprise and amusement in his eyes. I earned the gasps of the queue waiting outside as the now humbled bitch on the floor crawled away, clutching her ribs.

“Kiss me.” I growled through my teeth, pulling Harry’s face down to mine. We were locked in an energetic and adrenaline filled kiss, which lasted the best part of a minute. I felt the crowd’s eyes on me, but I didn’t care. I pulled away and grabbed Harry’s hand, dragging him back inside to witness my Bowie perform.

“Thank you.” I whispered to him through the low murmurs of the witnesses. He caught my eyes as his white teeth dazzled in the neon lights of London, and that’s when Harry knew, that his good girl had gone.