Fire (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 30

Harry’s hands padded over my exposed flesh, every touch sending a bolt of electricity through me. His lips continued to press to the join of my jaw line and neck, his hot breath fanning over the wet trails he had left with his tongue. My legs were still locked around his naked torso, pulling him downwards so he rested upon my stomach. I turned my head to the side, allowing him more access to the open skin on my neck, hoping for more intense actions. His lips lifted from my skin as we heard a song play in the room, along with the sound of a gentle vibration.

“Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth,

  Pull on your finger, then another finger-“ His ring tone was one of my favourite songs of all time, “Rock n’ Roll Suicide” By David Bowie… He pulled out his phone and examined the screen, his face forming an expression of confusion as he saw who was calling.

“Sorry, hold on one second, I have to get this.” The song was cut of when Harry pressed the accept button.

 He rolled off me and sat on the side of my bed, placing the phone on his left ear. I just about saw the caller ID, the name becoming visible on the screen: Gemma.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as soon as the phone came into contact with his ear. I noticed the same look of panic cross his features as when he’d said the same words to me. I tried to think of a rational explanation for all of this, thinking of any reason I could not to break down and cry right in front of him.

“…What…?” He uttered, a catch in his usually firm voice. I noticed his green eyes cloud with tears as he turned and looked at me for comfort, the phone still pressed to his ear. His bottom lip quivered as he listened to the voice of Gemma on the phone. His mouth hung open as his hand searched for mine, I took it in both my hands and squeezed tight, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles.

“…Who.” He spat; his teeth clenched together, eyebrows furrowed. I noticed his nostrils flare as he breathed in heavily, his eyes never tearing from the floor. He ended the call a couple of seconds later, standing up off of my bed and picking up his jumper from the floor. He pulled it over his head, ruffling his curls a little bit. I noticed him avoiding my eye contact, I didn’t want to ask any questions, I’d seen how upset he was, he had cried…and I knew that his upset was quickly followed by unimaginable anger.

He stormed towards my door, not offering me any form of explanation, although just before he exited my room, he paused. His head turned towards mine, making the eye contact that was lost for a little while. As his eyes met mine, a feeling of unimaginable sadness washed over me. The usually happy and protective nature of Harry’s expression had fallen; it had become one of hurt and pain. I tried to summon an explanation, thinking of nothing. Harry’s eyes swarmed with tears, which were streaming down his face, his bottom lip shaking. He opened his mouth to try and gather an explanation, to try and make clear the reason of the torturous expression that adorned his features.

“Whatever happens, I love you.” He said, before giving me one last look of love, and walking out of my room. Leaving me alone, lost, and confused. “Whatever happens…” What did that even mean? What did he plan on doing that was so life changing? The image of Harry’s broken expression flooded my mind, replaying his last words to me. I knew that Harry would never usually leave under these circumstances, it was unlike him to tear himself away from me at all, he was usually so eager to stay by my side at all times, especially in my half-naked state. I remembered his face; I remembered the anger that had consumed him, the blackness that dwelled within his eyes. I remembered the abruptness of his leaving, and a dreaded fear took me. “Whatever happens…” the words returned to me once again. The specification of names that Harry had demanded. “Who?” His words rang clear in my head, along with a horrendous realisation: Harry was going to kill.