Idiosyncrasy (Harry Styles AU)

Thirty-three

Chapter 33

Bethany

I don’t know what made me do it, but I kiss Harry. Maybe I just got caught in the moment, or I was trying to comfort Harry; but immediately after we pull away, I feel guilty.

For some reason I feel like apologizing, even though the look on Harry’s face is far from regretful or angry. I chew my lip, staring at the dark floor. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.

He steps forward, no doubt his smile falling, and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t apologize—”

“I shouldn’t have done that. You don’t need any more shit on your plate on top of all the stuff you’re going through,” I rush out, turning and grabbing a pillow. “You don’t need to be involved with someone right now; especially me,” I pause, sighing. “What are you thinking?”

“I was—”

“You know what? Don’t answer that. You’re probably thinking how shitty that kiss was,” I interrupted him, pacing back and forth in front of the door.

“Beth, no—”

“You are!”

“I am?”

“See, I knew it!” I shout, yanking the door open and slamming it shut before Harry can follow me.

“Bethany! Where are you going? It’s two in the morning!”

I hesitate, but don’t turn back to him. “I-I don’t know,” I whisper honestly, but dash towards the stairs anyway. It sucks that the power is out, because by the time I reach the lobby, I’m completely out of breath. God, I need to get in shape.

I can’t believe I just did that. It was the worst thing I could do in that situation. He just told me that his mother and sister were brutally murdered, and what do I do? I fucking kiss him. I feel like physically slapping myself.

I plop down on the couch that was sitting in the middle of the lobby. I’ve always wondered why there was a random couch in the middle of the lobby, but right now I couldn’t be more thankful for it.

Just then, someone clears their throat in front of me, and I look up with a sigh.

“I thought you might need a blanket,” Harry whispers, dropping my fuzzy duvet down on the couch beside me. “And maybe a flashlight; since there’s no light down here.”

I manage a smile, and then shyly pat the cushion next to me. “Care to join me? You don’t have to go back up all those dark steps again. It’s far too late for that,” I offer, feeling slightly guilty for being so harsh to him upstairs.

My hopeful smile fades when I think; why would he want to sit with me after what I just did and said?

But to my surprise, he gives me a dimpled smile. “That would be nice.” He plops down beside me, making himself comfortable.

I want to apologize to him for a lot of things. For the way I’ve acted lately, for kissing him, for jumping to conclusions. I had no right to judge him the way I did.

What happened to the Bethany who never judged people?

But something inside of me holds back from apologizing. There’s still that small doubt inside me that still wonders if he’s the real criminal, even after his story.

I realize with a start that if he is the one who killed Sandy, then he could be faced with jail for the rest of his life or if proclaimed insane, a place for the criminally insane. All things a cold-blooded murderer deserves.

But I know that Harry isn’t cold-blooded. He’s kind and considerate and a proper gentleman, something I haven’t seen in a man in a long time. No killer could act like him, right?

“That kiss wasn’t shitty, Bethany,” Harry mumbles sleepily, breaking me out of my deep thoughts.

I look over at him to see the duvet spread over his lap and his head leaned back on the couch.

I smile. “Really?”

He opens his eyes, looking over at me sleepily. “It was amazing.”

I blush, and then shift a little to try to hide it. “Goodnight, Harry,” I mumble, frazzled.

“Night, Beth.” I can hear the smirk in his voice, and I look over at him to see that his eyes are shut again and a smile is set on his face.

But I don’t fall asleep; not for a long time, at least. My mind is whirling with all these doubts and unanswered questions. I keep going back and forth with myself.

The conversation we had after we watched the movie on the night Harry had the nightmare comes to my mind. When I said; “Maybe it would be easier if we didn’t fall in love at all”, Harry acted like it hit a nerve. And now that I’ve heard his story, I know that it did. That’s exactly what he’s been telling himself for the past five years. In his eyes, it only gets him in trouble.

I look over at him in the dark. His head is lolled back and his mouth is hung open slightly, soft snores emitting from it.

My hand suddenly finds its way into his think mop of curls, and as I watch him I can’t help but hope that one day he’ll learn to let go of the pain from his obscene past and just move on.

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damn i update a lot

beTHARRY

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(Kiss me slowly by Parachute at the side------>)