Fallen Angel (Harry Styles/Dark)

Chapter 10 : Angel's Touch

"Why do you have pictures of this guy everywhere?"

"Hm?" Clare asked, more concentrated on washing the plates she and Harry had used for breakfast. Harry's voice echoed towards her through the hall.

"Your colleague," Harry explained, "You've got pictures of him everywhere."

Clare lifted the clean plates onto the counter and cleaned her hands before joining Harry in the small hallway. She didn't even remember the colour of the walls, because every inch of it was covered in framed pictures of herself and Tristan, along with some other people. Harry was standing in the middle of the hall, his green eyes locked onto a picture of Clare and Tristan on the couch in their living room: Clare was in her pajamas, curled up on top of Tristan with her face buried in his neck while his arms were wrapped protectively around her small body, a peaceful smile on his face.

Clare noticed the frown on Harry's face as she stood next to him and looked up at the picture. "He's Tristan, he's my roommate. I told you earlier," She explained softly.

Harry whipped around so suddenly that it made Clare jump, and she backed away from him by a step. His eyes gleamed dark green as he stared down at her. "You're living with him?" He questioned, quite harshly, as if she was doing something wrong.

"I told you before, Harry," She repeated, pushing away the slight anger she felt. "In the parking lot by my workplace, after you had beat him up just because I'd hugged him."

Harry's lips pursed in a fine line as he stared at her, eyes flashing green. "I don't care. You're mine. I don't want him living with you, being able to see-"

The anger Clare felt magnified just when Harry had opened his mouth. "Don't you dare treat me like an object!" She snapped. "Like I told you yesterday, Tristan is my best friend! He also has a girlfriend he's happily in love with, and he does not act like she is something he owns! Y-you forced me to be with you. You touched me against my will, Harry." She looked downward, not being able to look at him while she spoke. Her voice was getting softer and more frail by each word. "You can't expect me to trust you, or to like you-not even the way I like Tristan. You can't mean that much to me if you treat me like an object. Tristan, h-he means everything to me, and I can't believe what you did to him yesterday. He's the only family I have left." Her voice died down near the end, because she knew if she spoke any louder, her voice would break and she would start crying, and she did not want to look that weak in front of Harry. Not anymore.

But when she finally tore her eyes from her bare feet to Harry and noticed his expression, she saw guilt, more prominent than anything else. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his bottom lip between his teeth. She saw herself clearly in his emerald irises. He seemed frozen where he was standing, until his vast hands slipped out of his pockets raised as he reached for her, but Clare, realising what he wanted, let out a gasp and backed away, shaking her head. "N-no, don't touch me," She whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

The corners of Harry's plump lips dipped further down and his expression became even softer. "Clare, don't. Please," his voice was a whisper. "You can trust me." The caution and softness in his voice surprised Clare. It was smooth and sweet, like honey. Harry knew he was walking on thin ice. "I didn't mean to..." He spoke again, moving towards her carefully while Clare moved back during every step he took. He must have noticed, because he began shaking his head. "I didn't mean to beat Tristan up," He said, completely apologetic. "I just... I saw the way you looked at him-how happy you were. I just wanted you to look at me like that. I got upset because you didn't, and when he came to me and told me to stay away from you... I just got so mad." His eyes flicked to hers. "Please, Clare. You can trust me. I want to keep you safe."