Fire (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 40

I sat awkwardly on the edge of his black leather sofa, not daring to move in fear that he might spontaneously appear from his room. No, I sat still and silent. It was that way for about 45 minutes. I wandered around his living room, keeping my hands to myself, just looking. I saw nothing of major importance, except for the photo that had occupied my thoughts for so long. A small photo in a silver frame situated on one of the block shelves above the TV. It was Harry, his mother, and the girl next to him. Her hair was long and brown, almost like mine, except hers held more definitive curls. Her eyes were green brown, not nearly the same shade of vibrant emerald as his. It was Gemma. I could tell. The picture stood proudly amongst everything else in the house. She was beautiful, and her death was a major loss to the world, to Harry. It all linked; Harry’s erratic behaviour, his constant over-protection, his neediness. It was all because he had lost Gemma.

How could I have been so stupid?

“Harry.” I said quietly, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to hear me. Stupid Violet! Stupid! I hadn’t comforted him at all, I hadn’t asked him how he was feeling, I’d just let him suffer. Stupid!

“Harry!” I shouted, a catch in my voice. It was an urgent call, one that I knew Harry wouldn’t be able to ignore. Seconds later, the pounding of footsteps thudding against the kitchen floor filled the flat, the deathly silence becoming a thing of the past. Harry emerged in the doorframe of the kitchen, his mouth slightly agape, chest heaving slightly and his body posed in a running position.

“Violet, what’s wrong!?” He asked, stepping closer to me, soon realising his mistake, well aware that he had frightened me today. The urgency and desperation in his voice was heart warming. Proving that just because your mad, doesn’t mean you stop loving someone. I didn’t answer him; instead I looked into his eyes, searching for the sadness, the devastation that Gemma’s death had caused. I saw nothing. I moved closer, still searching intently. Harry never moved, and a word was never spoken.

Worry. Fear. Dread…devastation. A cry for help, I saw it. The utter regret in his eyes consumed him, his whole persona drifting away from anything other that pure resentment in himself. For what, I don’t know. But I was going to find out. I stormed towards him at an alarmingly fast pace, my face serious but yearning. My body consumed his. I wrapped my arms around his waist, hoping that he would too. I squeezed tighter than ever before; in fear I might lose him. It stayed that way for a few seconds, but soon Harry’s arms fell around me, one of his hands gently stroking the back of my head. I cried into his chest, I cried at the pain he must be feeling, the torture going on within him. I cried for us, for the sake of our love. His chin rested upon my head, digging in slightly.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, the tears in his eyes becoming apparent in his voice. I didn’t have an answer. So instead, I gave him the truth.

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” I snivelled, my cheek still pressed into his chest. Both of our sobs could be heard. “But I’m here to promise you, that I will stand by you, I will love you and care for you as long as you need me. I don’t care if you get angry, sad, if you cry or even if you refuse to talk to me. I’m staying, there’s nothing you can do about it.” The whole speech was made without eye contact. There was none needed. The truth in my words and the complete faith we had in each other eliminating the need for assurance. Harry’s grip became tighter, and his sobs grew louder. The heaving of his chest perfectly synced with his timed cries. I tried with my all to comfort him, but I was just as much of a wreck as he was, so we stood in each other’s embraces, crying out all of our tears, together.

After a while, the heated embrace had ceased, Harry and I pulled apart, looking at each other. Our eyes were red, as were our cheeks, stained with the hot tears we had just spilled for each other. Milliseconds later, I was in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist. It was the one time I had to look down to meet his gaze, his gaze that lovingly delved into my own. He walked us through to his bedroom. Inside I barely saw anything, my eyes were firmly focused on Harry; his reddened eyes, swollen lips, tanned skin, and his dark, lustful glare.

The dark surroundings of his bedroom took our bodies, as I assume it had with so many other girls, but not like this. Harry and I, we were one, fused, and invincible.