Mad World // Harry Styles

Chapter 3

We’ve been in the tub for an hour and Mel’s shaking hasn’t stopped. Her sobbing has lessened though, only to be replaced with her teeth chattering. I glance down at her feet and notice that they’ve pruned. “Cold?” I ask, tucking back her damp hair.

She nods.

I climb out from behind her and shuffle to the linen closet, pulling out a dry towel. Closing my eyes, I open it up for her, my arms extended away from me. The tub sloshes as she steps out. There’s a wet thud when her towels hit the floor.

I feel a light tug on the towel as she wraps it around her body and murmurs a soft, “Thank you.”

I hum in response, opening my eyes.

Her eyes are downcast as she stands there shivering. Her skin has a light blue tint to it.

I’ll go get something comfortable for you to wear.” I break the silence.

Her eyes meet mine. “You’re-you’re not going to make me leave? You’re not going to take me to the hospital?” Her mossy green eyes are watery and bloodshot. Her whole demeanor screams “broken.”

I sigh. Of course I’m not going to make her leave. She needs help, and if she can’t find it in a hospital then I guess she’ll just have to find it in me. “I wouldn’t do that to you-to anyone. It’s late and you’re-you need-WE need to talk about what you just tried to do. But that can wait until tomorrow. For now, I’ll just get you something to change into.” I turn on my heel and head to my dresser, retrieving an old Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers. While I’m out there I strip out of my sopping wet clothes, replacing them with a fresh t-shirt and sweats.

“Mel?” I tap on the door and hold my breath, remembering I left the razors on the counter.

I exhale in relief when a quiet, “Yeah?” sounds from the other side of the door.

“Here’s something for you to wear.” I poke my arm through the door and offer her the clothes.

“Thank you.” She mumbles, pushing the door to.

I sigh and slide down the wall. My fingers tangle through my hair. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

A few minutes later Melrose exits the bathroom. Her eyes are rimmed in red and swollen. She fidgets, picking at her cuticles.

I cough to clear the uncomfortable quiet. “I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have the bed.”

She shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowed. “No, no. I’ve already caused you enough trouble. I’ll take the couch. It is your apartment after all.”

“I’m not going to let you sleep on the couch.” I scoff. “Trust me, it’s fine. Just take the bed.”

She gives me a pointed look. “No. That would be rude. It’s your house. You take the bed.”

I roll my eyes and mumble, “What’s rude is trying to commit suicide in someone’s home.” She gasps and I immediately regret what I just said. “Damn it.” I mutter. “Melrose I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just,” I sigh, “I’m just tired and all of this is a lot to take in. I didn’t even know you a few hours ago and yet I was just witness to you trying to kill yourself. I’m kind of in shock.” I tug on my hair for what seems like the millionth time tonight. I’m going to go bald at this rate.

She doesn’t cry like I expect her to, instead she snaps,  “You know what jackass? I think I will take the bed. Thanks for being so polite.” She marches over to the bed and collapses on it with a huff, rolling so that her back is to me.

“God damn it.” I hiss under my breath. “Way to go Harry. Ever the gentleman Harold. You deserve an award for how nice you are. Wanker.” I flop on the couch and bury my face in the cushion. It’s not long before I doze off.

“Harry? Harry I’m sorry for calling you a jackass, now please wake up.” A small hand shaking my shoulder makes me peek an eye open. I blurrily take in the site of Mel standing in front of me, clutching a pillow to her chest.

“What’s wrong?” I groan, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I sit up so that I’m eye level with the prism logo on her-my shirt.

“I can’t sleep.” She whispers.

I glance down at her feet and watch as she wiggles her toes against the hardwood. Her nails are painted watercolor blue that’s chipped in some spots, but with my sleepy vision they appear to be little pools that reflect the moon. “You have moon toes.” I mumble in my hazy state.

“What?” She looks at me like I’m crazy.

“Nothing, nothing.” I shake my head. “So why can’t you sleep?”

“I just,” she blows out a puff of air, “I don’t know, I just can’t.” Her eyes flick around nervously. “Would it be too much to ask you to sleep with me? I mean I know we’re not even close to being friends, but I think it would help.”

My expression turns soft. “Yeah. I-I don’t mind. Come on.” I stand up and lead her to the bed. Leaving a decent sized gap between us, we both lie down.

Just when I think she’s fallen asleep, she asks, “Why do you care?” I can feel her eyes on me.

“What?” I roll to face her. I’m just able to make out the dark green of her irises.

“Why do you care about me? You didn’t have to help me.” Her knee brushes mine and I find myself scooting closer towards her.

“Why wouldn’t I care?” I murmur. “You needed someone and I was there. I’m here. As long as you need me, I’ll be here.”

“But you barely know me.” She whispers.

“So.” Her hair tickles my face.

She stays silent for so long that I begin to think she’s not going to respond. “Goodnight.” She breathes, rolling so that her back is pressed to my chest.

“Goodnight?” My statement is more of a question. Melrose is a ten thousand piece puzzle, and I intend to solve her.