Say You'll Be There | Harry (Marcel) Styles [ON HOLD]

Chapter 39 - Sorry

Knocking on Marcel's front door after he doesn't answer his phone for the fifth fucking time, Anne appears in her pajamas in the doorway.

“Hello, sweetheart.” She greets with her signature kind grin.

“Hi, Anne. Um, is Marcel here? He's not answering his phone and I'm supposed to take him to school.”

“No, he just left a little over ten minutes ago. He said he is walking because apparently, you weren't able to drive him this morning.” I can practically see the lightbulb going off in her head, putting it together. He lied to her, all because of our argument last night. I sigh heavily, slightly irritated with his stubbornness. It's freezing out, and I'm sure the last thing he wants to do is walk in the cold when I can drive him in the warm heating of my car.

“I'll go find him. But I have a question, is he always this stubborn?” I chuckle lightly, and Anne nods with a knowing smile.

“Yes, since he was a baby.” I laugh genuinely at this. “By the way, he normally cuts through the neighborhood.” I nod with a thank-you before mumbling a quick see you later and running back to my car. It doesn't take me long to find a lanky boy in a sweater vest walking along the sidewalk, me taking Anne's bit of advice. I drive slowly alongside him, rolling down the passenger's side window.

“Marcel, get in the car. You're not wearing a jacket.” I speak to him, while he keeps his eyes forward. I know he sees me, he turned his head when I pulled up next to him.

“Keep your eyes on the road. And I'm fine.”

“You're being immature. Please, get in the car and we can talk.” I gently say. I see him debating his options, quite offended that he has to think about what to do. But I hide my triumphant smile when he gives in, swinging open the passenger door and clambers into the seat.

“How are your bruises?” I ask him first as I start on a normal speed to school, before we can start up on last night's argument, and because I genuinely want to know if he's okay.

“Fine.” He shrugs one shoulder, his voice cutting.

“Please, just talk to me. I know you're upset, but don't forget that I have every right to be upset too.” I keep my tone gentle, not really wanting a rerun of last night's episode at 8:30 in the morning.

“I know you do. But you need to respect the fact that I can handle this.”

“Okay, and I will try to respect it. But you also need to respect the fact that I worry about you as well.”

“Can we please talk about this at school?” He looks at me, but my eyes are focused out on the road. I glance at him for a second and nod. I rest my arm on the armrest between us, more comfortable that way even if Marcel will give me shit for it. He surprises me by taking my hand in his, lacing our fingers together as both of our arms sit beside each other on the center armrest. It gives me hope that this argument will soon be over.

After passing through the halls, with me getting what I'd need from my locker and without a sign of Jake, we retreat to our corner of the library. As soon as Marcel and I sit, he takes me in his arms, nearly pulling me out of my seat. But I don't hesitate for a moment to wrap my arms around his neck, closing my eyes with our embrace.

“I'm sorry. I didn't want to yell at you last night and I honestly feel terrible that that's how I left you. I was a jerk.” He admits quietly into my neck, his fingers playing with the ends of my hair down my back. I move back from our hug, only to take his face in my hands. He winces slightly, instinctively tugging his head away. I let my hands settle on his thighs, my fingers playing with his corduroys instead. I inspect his face with furrowed eyebrows, eyes looking over his jaw. I can faintly see a strange off-shade color of his skin, naturally being able to recognize it as make-up. He's covering a bruise that wasn't there yesterday. I don't speak on it now, other things being more important. But I will ask him about it later.

“You weren't a jerk, I know that's not who you are. And I didn't want to yell at you either.”

“I know you worry about me, but I don't want you to. You don't need to worry about me.” His hands take up the expanse of both my cheeks, thumb softly rubbing along my cheekbone.

“Well naturally, I'm going to worry when I find you doubled over on the ground, clutching your stomach and your lip bleeding.” He responds with a kiss to my nose and I try not to melt under him.

“Please stop worrying about me.”

“I only worry because I care about you. Your mom as well.”

“Please, I'm fine.” I can only nod, his pleading eyes burning through me like a laser. He kisses my lips, and that's when I let myself melt under him. “I'm sorry.” He whispers through the kiss and I want all of him in this instant. He gently leaves my lips, much to my reluctance.

“I'm sorry too... Now will you tell me why you're wearing makeup on your jaw?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, his mint scented breath fanning my face heavenly and I inhale him.

“Jake punched me and the bruise formed this morning. I didn't want my mom to see so I stole some of Gemma's makeup behind her back to cover it up this morning.” He admits, seeming ashamed.

“Well, first of all, it's a bit off shade from your skin tone.” I softly joke and we laugh quietly.

“I know, but I managed to get it past my mom and Gem.” He shrugs, and I shake my head in slight disbelief. One of these days, she has to catch him. She catches everything else but the most important thing? It baffles me to no end.

“So how's Zayn? Is he still made at Jake?” He changes the subject and I hope it's not because he can see my thoughts of wanting his mother to find him out. Since evidently, I'm so transparent, he can see right through me and know what I'm thinking. 

“He went to the gym last night to take his anger out on a punching bag, after beating the crap out of Jake. Like, Zayn was scary, so evil about the whole thing. Making a joke out of it. I know Jake's an ass and he deserves everything he gets but still, Z joked about not killing the guy.”

“You don't feel bad for Jake, do you?”

“No! Of course not! But I think if Zayn wouldn't have stopped, he could have seriously hurt him or even ended up in jail if someone saw him kicking the crap out of him. I hate Jake with everything in me, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to cheer for victory and go singing for the hills if Zayn kills the guy.”

“I know, Bri.” He nods, kissing my forehead and I find myself immediately leaning into his touch.

The bell for class rings sooner than later and after whining for a moment about not getting to read, he tugs us along to our class.

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