WILD // (Harry Styles)

T H I R T Y F I V E

CHAPTER 35

CLAIRE

I see his eyes.

Greener than grass, greener than the brightest leaf on any tree.

Around them, the small threads of treacherous red, creeping in the corners of his lids. They are terrifying.

His lips part, his fist twitching as he exhales, his eyes shooting through me. He shifts, his head turning towards Michael and then back at me. I'm having trouble grasping the situation, as everything in me hopes that this is not what it seems like.

"No," Harry breathes heavily, his head shaking so slightly, I almost don't notice. His fist unclenches slowly, his fingers stretching as he lowers his shoulders. His head continuously shakes, and he takes a step towards me.

I look down on Michael, and his hand shivers as his eyes land on mine. I see a drop of blood escaping through his fingers, hitting the ground. I hear it hit the black marble floor, the sound filling the silent room.

"Harry..." I whisper in a high-pitched, sharp breath. I take a step forward, just to let the elevator doors behind me close.

"What... happened?" I push out, feeling at a loss for words, unable to properly react. Michael places his palms to the floor, getting to his feet with a swelling lip and wide eyes.

"He wouldn't stop," Harry whispers frantically, putting his hands over his ear, closing his eyes tightly.

"You punched him? Y- you hit him?" I stutter, my sight shifting between the two, as Michael still has a surprised glare in his eyes, and Harry has a panicked look in his.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't- I couldn't-" Harry tries to form a sentence in the midst of his uneasy speech, but fails.

"Get away from him," I say, looking over at Michael, not moving a single muscle. Michael glances over at Harry, and walks over to me with another drop of blood escaping his nose.

"Go down to the lobby, I'll pack our things," I say, without even looking away from Harry. I see in the corner of my eye that Michael nods, and presses the elevator button, the doors sliding open immediately. He gets in it, and the tips of my fingers and toes turn cold looking into his green eyes.

"Claire, please-" he starts, but I look away and he holts.

"Stop," I shiver, and walk away, towards the bedroom.

"W- what are you doing? Claire, let me explain!" He yells after me, and I turn around, my blood boiling.

"What! What can you possibly say to explain yourself?! You punched my best friend because he took me out on my birthday!" I blurt in a yell, losing control of myself for a second. I stare into his eyes, and for the first time, there is nothing in them that is familiar. They are completely, utterly foreign to me.

"No, I didn't! Right before you left the apartment, I wanted to take you out! But I was too late, Michael had already snuck you out. I wanted to make you happy, to put a smile on your face!" He shouts, veins in his forehead and neck sticking out. Without noticing, I have taken multiple steps backwards, away from him.

"You were too late... And because of that, you punched him? You punched the one person who wanted me to be happy? The one person who actually took it into his own hands to give me a moment of happiness before I'd have to return to this apartment?" I say, and I know my words hurt. But I can't think of anything else to say.

"He pushed me! He kept saying I can't make you happy, that you're better off without me, I- I couldn't stand listening to him! I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't, I had to make it stop!" His eyes turn wild as his lungs gasp for air, his knees shaking. I feel my gut churn, listening to his excuse and explanation. I can't believe he did this, I fell into a state of shock after seeing his fist held in the air over Michael. With every passing second, the shock, the surprise, the distress turns into anger. I can't believe he did this.