The Boy Next Door || Harry Styles

chapter eleven.

YEAH NEW CHAPTER! Please remember to vote and comment! If you guys have anything to ask me, just send me a message or post a comment on my account! Hope you like this chapter!

Oh and there is a picture on the side! (: 

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When someone disappears from your life, they leave a small hole in your heart.  Ironically enough, the hole in my heart that my mother left was finally patched up.  I grew up and got over it. Eventually, I found people who cared about me and people who would always be there.  When the people who have disappeared come back, you’re completely lost and confused. So when my mother showed up at my doorstep, I didn’t know what to do.  I was confused and at a loss of words, so I simply closed the door on her and turned away.  As I slid down the wooden door, I clutched my knees to my chest.

“Harry.” I whispered. “I don’t think my heart can take this.” I nervously laughed.

“Uhm, well. Maybe you can try talking to her?” Harry finally said as he sat down next to me.

“I can’t. I… I can’t, that woman is not my mother. No. No, she can’t just show up out of nowhere and just…” I was hyperventilating again. AGAIN.  I was trembling now.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Melanie, just stay calm. It’s okay.” He cooed at me.  He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and came closer. Oh god, this is not happening.

“Okay, okay.” I muttered, trying to control my breath.

“You’re going to stand up, open the door, and talk to that woman, okay? Okay, Melanie?” Harry stood up and reached out to help me.  Shakily, I took his hand and stood up.

“Okay.”

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 “Oh, really?” My mother laughed at me as I told her an old childhood memory. After a couple of hours of talking to her, I found that she wasn’t so bad.  I kind of wished she was with me growing up, you know? I never really had ‘mother’ attention.  The closest thing to a mother was Mummy Anne, Harry’s mum.  She treated me like one of her own and I know somewhere in my heart there will always be a spot for her.

“So how is school and everything?” She asked me for what feels like the twentieth time.

“It’s great. It’s great.” It was awkward for awhile as I took a sip of my tea.

“And how’s your father?” It was the question I was trying to avoid the whole night.  I looked outside the kitchen window and saw the street lamps. I really didn’t want to answer this question.

“He’s great. Completely moved on.” I muttered. Not really.

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed, “Is he dating other women?”

The thought of my father dating other women made me choke on tea, causing it to go down my windpipe. I hit at my chest until it cleared.

“Uhm, no. Actually, he’s not.” She smiled at me. Was that a good thing?

“So are you staying?” I asked her.

“Hopefully.” She smiled again and I couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in her eyes.  They were just like mine, except smaller. And she had lines above her eyebrows, probably from stress.

After awhile, I spoke up again,

“Why did you leave?” When she heard my question, she literally almost dropped her mug on the floor. Small droplets of lavender tea were on the floor, but I didn’t care.