Rock and Roll

Chapter Ten: back home

Harry had left her all alone in his apartment. Part of him wondered if that was a mistake. Something in the way she had stood, or the look in her eyes when she said the word family had convinced that part of him that it wasn't. He wrote down the address on his hand before he could forget and walked to the nearest train station. Honestly a car would have paid for itself by now...

He arrived off the last train running to that side of the city that night. The sun had already set and the streetlights were like search lights shining into his eyes. Why was he doing this? What was so special about this girl that he felt the need to check on her family when she couldn't? What made him feel the need to keep her at his apartment when she was hurt? He should have just taken her to a hospital and let the doctors deal with her.

He wouldn't have. She had these big eyes that swirled with color. He was drowning in them whenever she looked up from her phone and stared over the edge of it. It was like she could see exactly what he was made of.

He didn't think she had the money to pay for a hospital visit anyway. She worked for Niall after all.

He could still feel her hands twisting in his shirt. He didn't know if she was aware of it while it was happening. It was so cute.

He got there. He could see a man outside the ruins of what used to be a house. He was hunched over... shaking. The girl next to him was sitting on the ground with her head in her hands.

"Excuse me sir? Valentine asked me to check on you?" he said. His voice was unsteady. It was a stupid way to say it. You don't "check on" somebody after a tragedy like this.

The girl stood up and turned to him. It was Valentine. How had she gotten here before him?

"Why isn't she here herself? Who are you?" she questioned. The tone of her voice was different than he had ever heard Valentine use. It was more worried. Her clothes were different.

"How did you get here? I told you to rest," he said. He looked her up and down. The way she held herself felt off somehow.

This wasn't the same girl.

"I'm not Valentine. Now answer my question: why isn't she here herself?" the girl asked. He wasn't going to spend a whole lot of time thinking about the fact that there was someone else in the world that looked exactly like Valentine. The thought made his heart almost stop. He was a little gutted that she hadn't mentioned a twin sister.

"She has a concussion and she's staying at my place. She shouldn't move a whole lot so she sent me to check on you guys," he said. The look in the girl's eyes was soft. The man, who Harry could only assume was Valentine's dad, hadn't turned around. He was clutching something in his hand.

"Tell her we'll be fine. Dad is staying at my place tonight," she said. "You should leave," she added mostly as an afterthought. He was a little relieved she wanted him to leave as bad as he wanted too himself. It was strange meeting this Valentine's family in a pile of ashes.

Harry nodded at her. She must know what she was talking about. The man kneeling on the ground still hadn't turned. He caught a glimpse of what he was holding. It was a picture. From what he could see it was a younger Valentine and... other Valentine? And their parents. Her mother, who was in the picture but not here in person, was beautiful. She had the same sunshine under her skin that Valentine had. There were brown scorch marks on one of the corners of the frame. Harry gave him a wary glance before saying goodnight and beginning the long walk back to his apartment.

He let his thoughts drift while he strolled away from the smouldering wreck. He had never owned a house before, but he could imagine the feeling of loss that came from it being destroyed. He felt bad for the man, and Valentine and her sister.

There was a bad feeling crawling down his neck. Like eyes from an alleyway, watching his every move. He shoved his hands into his pockets and ignored it. He passed buildings that towered over him and street lights that lit up the oily pavement. There seemed to constantly be puddles of water during this time of year, collecting in the dips of the ground. They reminded him of something but he couldn't remember what.

The air nipped at his face. He should have brought a scarf but in his haste he didn't even change out of his tattered tank top and gym shorts.

There was a noise just behind his left shoulder. It was sharp and quick like pulling the trigger of an empty gun. He whirled around and saw nothing. His stomach twisted. He had heard it. He had.

Walking didn't seem worth it anymore. He jogged to the street corner and changed course. He was now going to a busier street to hail a cab.

He kept replaying the sound in his head. It worried him.