New York [harry styles au]

29

29.
I remember peering quickly at the clock on the kitchen wall to find it turn 8.30pm. Then turning away from the tranquil ticking of time to find Jonathan hurrying past Harry and trying to escape the apartment, getting out to the corridor with Harry running after him. Flashbacks of the last time this happened popped into my head and I hoped that Jonathan wouldn't pull his gun out on Harry again, but something told me that he wouldn't have time to. This reality check pulled me away from my thoughts and made me hastily follow Harry down the steps of the apartment block to the dark street, the lampposts looking like policemen with torches.

I notice Harry kick out at Jonathan, making him miss the last step and instead fall to the bottom of the concrete slabs. Luckily the whole area was empty as I peered to my fist and noticed that I was still holding the knife, as Harry sat over Jonathan and punched his face repeatedly. A desperate groan escaped his lips with every hit. But he suddenly stopped, as I held the knife up to inspect it, before snatching it from my hold. My shaky breathing stopped altogether as my eyes widened and I hurried over to Harry, grabbing his shoulders before he did something he would regret. Evil consumed him as his arms flew up in the air, hands joined by the handle of the knife before plunging it deep into Jonathan's chest. Jonathan's arms spread out wide on both sides of his body like Jesus on his wooden cross. I screamed and fell to the floor beside the murder scene as Harry did the opposite, standing up and staggering back away from Jonathan like he had just laid eyes on Satan appearing from the depths of his soul. All I could see was the metallic handle of the knife as it poked away from his body, and the crimson liquid that flooded away from its home and into the cracks of cement.

"What have you done, Harry?" I screamed, my eyes snapping from Harry to Jonathan and back to Harry again. He merely ran his hands through his hair, his eyes streaming with tears and his breathing loud and erratic.

Soon enough, he joined me on the concrete floor with a sharp cry. Screams of despair and guilt escaped him as his hands balled up into fists of rage. I noticed his hands reach towards the blood that had begun to soak his jeans and he began to scream again. Seconds passed before he stood once more and I felt his hand roughly grip my elbow, pulling me up and dragging me inside with haste. We both stay silent whilst racing up the flights of stairs and pacing through Harry's open door.

I became frozen to the spot near the front door, near the blue painting that Harry had earlier put up. My eyes were still wide as they watched Harry, now a murderer. I was in a room with a murderer.

"What have you done?" I plead as my hands reach up to hold my face, the tears still racing down each cheek. We couldn't make this right, however hard we tried.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know." He paces around the kitchen before his emotions get the better of him and he falls to his knees again, the blood on his jeans staining the bright tiles of the floor. I quickly move towards him and fall beside him, my arms holding him close, but he doesn't respond to my touch. His eyes won't shift and I follow his gaze to see that he is fixated on the same gloomy painting.

"We need to leave." I say and he shakes his head.

"We can't."

"Why? Yes, we can, pack a bag – come on." I stand up but his hand flies up to pull my arm back down again until I return to his level.

"I'm a murderer."

"You're not a murderer."

"Then what am I, Sherlock?" His dark, wild eyes glance back to mine and I feel a shiver of fear fall through my spine.

"You didn't do it out of carelessness though. It was defence."

"The police don't give a fuck about that. Wake up, Winona."

"Please, Harry, you're scaring me. Let's just get out of here, we still have time."

"Someone will call the police. People won't see a man bleeding out on the pavement and just ignore him."

"Harry, you're not thinking clearly. It will be a few hours before they question everyone in the apartment block. Let me go and pack a bag." I try to stand.

"Sit the fuck down!" His voice startles me and I return back to my position. "I'm sorry. I think this is the end."

"No, don't speak that way." My fingers grip his cheek and turn him to face me, but he doesn't find my eyes.

"Winona, I've just killed someone."

Silence.

"I'm going to jail."

"Yeah." I didn't know what else to say at this point, I just cried. Harry's morals were getting in the way of everything, he would rather have gone to jail than live a lie for the rest of his life; there was something oddly commendable about that.

"Let's have a drink."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I'm very sure that's a good idea."

I move to sitting on my knees, reaching up to grab the half-empty bottle of bourbon on the countertop. My hand rips the lid of it speedily before bringing it to my lips, taking two large swigs of the liquid before handing it to Harry who did the same.

"Come here." He mutters, moving the bottle to the side of him. His now empty hand pats his lap and I fall onto it, my arms around his neck and his arms around my waist. "Kiss me."

My lips forcefully fly onto his and I can feel both of our tears as they move together, it was a rough embrace but bittersweet all the same. I could still feel the tension he held through the kiss and so I disconnected before holding the top of the bottle against his lips, feeding him the intoxicating liquid like a baby. However fucked up this situation was, we hadn't lost our lust and I found something strangely beautiful about that. We got to the bottom of the bottle and I glanced up to the clock to find the time reading 11.45pm. 15 minutes until May 1973. Silence graced us the whole night as we leant our backs against the cupboard doors. I could tell that Harry refused to remotely mention anything that had happened that night and I didn't feel the urge t to talk about it anyway.

I close my eyes, my hand clutching Harry's but we are both suddenly startled by the buzzer. It is pressed repeatedly and I glance at Harry to see him shaking his head as a way to prevent me from answering it, his eyes still closed. But when I look back at him, his lip is trembling and his eyes are welling up with tears for the thousandth time.

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One chapter (and epilogue) left!!! I can't even express how lovely it has felt to escape into the lives of Harry and Winona, this is the deepest I have ever delved when it comes to the characters and plot in a story. I hope that this has come across in my writing. And I hope you have all enjoyed this too!!! x