Pain: Her (Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 69

Harry never came back or even answered my calls. He replied to my messages, but only once. Ever since Louis showed up he's been acting so weird. It's like he's trying to avoid something, or trying to get me to not know whatever it is he's trying to hide. He says he isn't, but he's making it obvious that he is. I told him from day one that I don't like secrets and he promised me there weren't any. And if there aren't, he wouldn't have reacted the way he did when Louis came. He said he's a bad guy but never told me why. He can't just tell me things like that without giving me the whole story, it doesn't work that way. I trust Harry, I really do but his strange behavior is worrying me. This isn't the first time he randomly left me to go "somewhere," he's done it before which makes his actions even more suspicious. To be honest, it's stressing me out.

When I got home my parents weren't here. Apparently they wanted to spend "as much time as possible" together so they went out. I felt lonely; lonely and stressed. I hate feeling this way and even worse, I hate thinking this way. The only reason why I over think is because he gives me reasons to. You understand right? You can't give me one worded answers and take off like it's nothing, do you honestly expect me not to feel this way? I hate it; absolutely hate it. It's consuming me.

I spent the rest of day basically doing nothing. I changed into sweats and watched reruns waiting for Harry to call or even show up which obviously didn't turn out the way I had planned. Everything was going so perfectly with the ball and the painting, all the fun and sweet things we did together, and now it's all crumbling down with this mystery shit. I don't want to live in a Nancy Drew story trying to figure clues out when really, there shouldn't be anything to worry over. He's so frustrating sometimes, I swear it drives me insane.

I barely got any sleep last night because he was on my mind. I hope it didn't have to do with Louis or Liam but I have a feeling it did. See! See what he does to me? He can't give me one solid answer to ease my thoughts but instead, he leaves me hanging with his bullshit. I'm sick of it.

Sluggishly, I dressed myself and fixed my hair and makeup. Another week of school; lovely. I'm not in the mood at all. I feel annoyed and cranky and I think my time of the month is coming up. I just want to go back to sleep and remain asleep for the next century and not have to deal with anything anymore. I feel like my happiness is always restricted. I feel happy for a few days and that's it; it never lasts. Something has to put a gap in between it and mess it up. I just want to have a normal relationship. Why the fuck is it so hard to have one? I don't want a perfect one, I know there's no such thing, but a drama free relationship sounds amazing.

After collecting my phone and bag, I head downstairs for breakfast. Seven AM is way too early. Why can't school start at ten? Or eleven? Or never..

"Mom," I start to say while walking down the stairs, "did Alan leave yet because if he did than I don't have a ri--" I stop in my tracks when I see Harry in the kitchen with my mom. He's wearing my favorite beanie and his normal attire; white t-shirt, jeans, and his boots. Those boots really need to go. They're all worn out and just gross looking. He's leaning over the counter with his elbows supporting him and he turns to me.

"Mornin' honey." my mom greets. I wonder how far along she is. Her stomach is kind of beginning to show, "Alan left and Harry stopped by to take you to school." funny how she's okay with his company and him popping up randomly when she was the one that said she didn't like him.

I'm too tired to speak, so I nod. Harry removes himself from the counter and pulls me into a warm embrace. His large arms wrap around me and though I'm still annoyed with him, I missed his hugs.

"You never came back..." I say low enough so that my mom can't hear.

"I know." he pulls his keys out, "I'll explain later." he looks over at my mom who's watching us, sipping her tea and listening to our conversation; or least trying to.