Pink, Purple and Blue (Harry Styles fanfic)

Chapter 1

HEYYY EVERYONE :)

I decided to post chapter one today, because... Idk I felt like it. I know it's a bit short, but my chapter will most likely be that length all the time. Sorry :S

I don't really have anything else to say sooooo... 

Oh yeah one last thing. The first chapters aren't the best well-written one, I was kinda just starting when I wrote it, and even thought I changed a lot of things in it ever since, I always feel like it kinda sucks when I read it. Sorry again. It gets better :)

Chap. 1

When I woke up, it took me a little time to remember whose hands were around me. Harry wasn’t awake; he was breathing deeply in my back. He somehow ended spooning me during the night (not that it bothered me). I took a look at my phone. 8:32am. Way too early, I mentally growled. I tried to go back to sleep.

“Babe...”

My eyes snapped open. Wasn’t he sleeping?

“No! Don’t do this please!” he began shouting. He collapsed, and I turned toward him. His eyes were closed, tightly shut, and he was frowning.

“You can’t do this to us!” he screamed. Was he having a nightmare?

“Harry wake up,” I shook him. “Wake up!”

His eyes opened. He looked at me like I was an alien, clearly disoriented.

“Wh-who are you?” he stuttered with a raspy, husky morning voice (and really sexy, I must add). “Where am I?”

“You’re at my apartment,” I smirked. “And about who I am, take a sec to remember.”

His eyes widen as the memories came sinking in.

“O-oh... Hum, I, hum...” he started without really knowing what to say.

“It’s okay, don’t worry, I was completely willing.”

He looked a bit relived. He ran his hand through his curls. Then he winced.

“Oh, right. Give me a sec, I’ll find you something for that.”

I stormed out of the room and got him painkillers, as well as a glass of water. On my way back I put water in the boiler to make some tea.

“Here’s for your hangover”

He looked at me thankfully. “Thanks, hum...”

A guilty looked passed in his green eyes as he realized he didn’t even know my name. I let out a little laugh.

“Kathleen,” I informed him. “I’m making some tea, and possibly pancakes. Want some?”

“Uhm, yeah, sure,” he nodded shyly, his beautiful accent showing.

“Okay. Shower if you want, the bathroom is the first door at the left when you leave the room.” With that I left him by himself to go make breakfast.

People would think I’m weird, acting like that with somebody I didn’t even know, a one night stand. The fact is, he wasn’t anybody. I don’t mean by that he was Harry Styles, but that he, as a person, was different. There was a something about him. I smirked to myself.

I was one to feel connection with people I didn’t know. But my instinct more than often had turned out right.

Plus he was still there, he hadn’t left right after or anything, and I always took care of my guests.

He came in the kitchen about twenty minutes later and I handed him some tea and pancakes (well not really pancakes, crêpes. If you see the difference). He gave me a little smile.

I took mine and added a lot of maple syrup. He imitated me and I looked at him, waiting with a little smile that he took his first bite.

“Canada?” he asked

“Quebec,” I smiled.

“Can’t find a taste like this anywhere else,” he agreed.

“Can’t stand fake syrup,” I chuckled.

We ate the rest of the breakfast in silence. He seemed hungover, alot. By the looks he was giving me, I reckon he was wondering how on Earth I wasn’t.

“I should probably go,” he said rather awkwardly.

“Okay,” I shrugged. “Here’s my number, if you need a distraction again. You may as well toss it if you like.” I scribbled my cell phone number, torn the piece of paper and gave it to him. “By the way, don’t worry I won’t tell.”

He frowned again. “About...”

“Everything.”

His frown didn’t leave his face. “Okay... well I gotta go now...”

I nodded, and he got up. In silence, I led him to the door; he passed it giving me an awkward smile.

***

I was in front of my computer, tweeting and other stuff. It was around three in the afternoon.

I got a new DM. My younger cousin, Mely.

From: Mely_1D

Do u no wassup with Larry? Louis tweets weird shit n there r pics of Harry where he looks like he :’(

‘Actually, I do. But I can’t tell you,’ I thought. I immediately answered.

To: Mely_1D

No idea. When were the pics taken?

She didn’t take long to answer.

From: Mely_1D

Ytd. N td theres 1 of harry going to liam’s head down this mornin

To: Mely_1D

Oh well idk. Mayb u should leave em alone? They prob. don’t wanna talk bout it

The fans, including herself, really needed to back off their personal life. Because it was that, personal. Not everybody’s business.

I got on Youtube, intending to watch some Tyler Oakley or so, when my doorbell rang. I quickly put down the screen of my PC before going to answer the door. Who the hell would come here at three thirty on a Thursday?

I was more than surprised to find a crying curly-haired boy behind my door.

“I’m sorry Kathleen, I just didn’t know where to go, I’ve got nobody else here in California and...” he sobbed.

I finally reacted and pulled my arms around him. “Shhh... It’s okay, it’s okay.” I led him in and closed the door with my foot.

I made him sit on the couch, letting him cry on my shoulder. I rubbed his back (a little awkwardly I must say). I didn’t ask him what happened, did not pressed him into telling me anything.

***

I watched him sleep on the couch from behind the kitchen’s counter. I bit my bottom lip. Why were they doing this to him, to them? I sighed, going back to my vegetables, but I couldn’t help but glance at him all the time.

Once the chicken was ready, I started to set two plates. I was wondering if I should put his in the fridge when he began to shout – again.

“No! Please don’t do this!”

I ran to his side. “Harry, wake up.” I shook him until he was awake.

“Kath...?”

I couldn’t help but find it cute that he had found me a nickname.

“Yeah it’s me. I’m here, okay?”

He nodded quietly and a tear came down his face. I rubbed it away with my thumb (surprisingly enough, as I was a complete stranger, he didn’t pull away) and said, “I made dinner, want some?”

He seemed about to refuse, but he nodded. I gently grabbed his wrist, lift him up and brought him to the counter, where I almost always ate.

We stayed silent, him lost in his thoughts, and me making sure he didn’t get carried away by them.