Mad World // Harry Styles

Chapter 4

I wake up sweltering. A warm, clammy hand is resting on the butterfly tattoo that’s situated in the middle of my abdomen. Why did I choose to spend my only summer off in South Carolina where it’s hot as balls? Oh that’s right, because no one knows I have a flat here. Well they didn’t until yesterday anyways.

I try to shift out from under Melrose without waking her. She doesn’t approve of this apparently. She grumbles before slinging a leg over my hip to keep me in bed. I sit up as far as Mel’s leg will allow me and peer down at her sleeping form. For the first time since she stepped into my flat she looks content. Her lips are parted and her eyelashes brush her cheeks.

She startles me when she mumbles, “Do you make a hobby out of staring at girls in their sleep or am I just special?”

I jump, my back hitting the headboard. “Shit. No. I just.” I sigh. “You look peaceful when you sleep is all. You look different than when you’re awake.” I shrug and rub my back. I’ll definitely have a bruise there by the end of the day.

“Mm.” She nods. “When I’m asleep I’m free. Free as a bird.” She barks out a laugh. Her laugh is just as rough as her voice, but I like it nonetheless. “I don’t have to worry whether my dad’s beating on my mom. I don’t have to worry about how I’ll pay college fees. I don’t have to worry about perverts touching me at the strip club. I belong to myself in my sleep. I’m free.”

Her whole rambling speech catches me off guard. Her dad hits her mom? A strip club? I decide to leave the “abusive father” topic alone. I figure if she wants to talk about something that serious, she’ll bring it up herself. The strip club thing however, I’m interested in. “Wait, strip club?”

She laughs under her breath. “Yeah. Surprise, surprise pop star, I’m a stripper.” This Melrose is different from the hysterical, sobbing Melrose I took care of yesterday. She’s livelier, granted in a cynical way, but still, it’s an improvement. “Speaking of my job. I should probably get going. I have a shift tonight and I still don’t have any of my shit together.” She rolls out of bed, successfully avoiding the talk of her attempted suicide I was about to initiate. Even though it’s hot as hell, I still miss her body heat once she’s gone.

I lean against the headboard and watch as she collects her things. She doesn’t change out of the clothes I let her borrow. My boxer briefs don’t exactly make the best pants, but I don’t think she exactly cares. Just as she’s about to walk out the door I remember, “The gun?”

She frowns and points. “Coffee table.”

My gaze follows her finger. The gun is lying on the table in front of the couch. I set my mouth in a firm line and nod.

She bites her lip. “You do realize there are plenty of other ways for me to kill myself, right?” Her hand rests on the doorknob.

“Yeah, but you’re planning on going to work tonight, so you’re obviously not going to do it anytime soon.” I say grimly.

“What makes you think I won’t do it after work?” Her eyes harden.

My eyes narrow at her statement. “You won’t, because you’re coming back here.”

She scoffs. “Harry, I have a life to get back to. I can’t thank you enough for what you did last night, but you can’t save me from myself. I’m a bomb. It’s only a matter of time before I explode.”

I shake my head adamantly. “You’re coming back here. Where do you live? I’ll help you pick some things up after work.”

“You can’t make me live with you.” She laughs. “Like I said, thanks for the help, but I’m leaving.” She yanks the door open, prepared to storm out.

“I’ll call the hospital.” I whisper. Am I a jackass for saying this? Yes. Do I care at the moment? No.

She turns, her eyes widening. “You promised you wouldn’t.” She hisses.

“And I’ll keep my promise, as long as you stay with me.” My voice is a full octave lower than usual. All I can think about is keeping her safe from herself.

“Fine. I go to the college, so just meet me at the dorms at twelve thirty.” She huffs, promptly slamming the door.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I sink into the couch. “I can’t believe that I just invited that crazy girl to live with me.” I mutter, staring blankly at the wall.

“Hey, don’t be a dick. You’re doing a good thing by helping her. She needs you man. You said you’d be there for her if she needed you. Stick to your promise.” A voice to the left of me scolds directly into my ear.

I come face to face with a tiny version of me. It-I’m decked out in all white and my tattoos are gone. “Oh for fuck’s sake, I thought this only happened in movies!” I peer to my right and find another miniature version of me. This one’s dressed in all black. He has two full sleeves of tattoos and a couple that peek out of his shirt. “Go on then? Don’t you have something to say as well?” I gesture towards him.

He clears his throat. “I say ditch the bitch, go party a little, then find a hot piece of ass to bring home. If you drop the crazy chick your life will be loads simpler. Trust me on this.”

I frown at him. “But I like Melrose. Sure she has her problems and yeah it’ll be hard to keep her safe, but still, she’s a fairly nice girl. Besides, I promised her that if she needed me I’d be there.” I nod my head in finality. “So I’m going to help her.”

The mean mini me rolls his eyes and gags. “Whatever, but when she fucks up your life don’t come crying to me.” With that, he disappears.

I look at the nice mini me. He smiles. “I’m proud of you Harry. You’re doing the right thing.” In the blink of an eye he’s gone too.

“Maybe I’m the crazy one.” I mutter. I guess this is it. I’m officially involved in the hurricane that is Melrose. Hopefully I’ll make it through the storm with minimum damage.