a taste like kiwi ↠ [h.s]

VIII. Silence

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"You're like...a song to me. One that I want to listen to every day."

"Does it mean that you like me talking around you?" You asked Harry who was ignoring you, he didn't give you his attention while you asked about his riddle from yesterday night. You stood in his office, a few feet from his door while he sat on his office chair, typing on a laptop set on his desk. You let a moment pass before asking, "Does it mean--"

Harry shut his laptop, placing his hands on top as he turned his head to you, "You brought me what I needed. You can leave now."

You learned something about him today: Harry Styles is easily annoyed. You nodded, "Right." You walked out the door, shutting it behind you. After you sat on your chair, a figure walked past your desk. You didn't have to look up to know who it was, so you kept your eyes low as you said softly, "Good morning, Layla--"

"Ms. Grayson."  She said coldly as she walked in Harry's office. You jerked in your seat when she slammed the door shut. She was angrily yelling at Harry, making it easy to hear their conversation...but you wouldn't ease drop, right? You started typing nonsense on a keyboard, trying to drown out the one-sided conversation...it's not your fault you just so happen to hear what they're saying.

You could only hear, but what you didn't see was Harry wasn't giving Layla any attention. He was staring at his laptop, reviewing statistics and contracts of clients while Layla leaned against the mini bar. Layla said with dead tone, "I want you to fire (Y/N)."

Harry's usual monotone responded even if his eyes didn't look away from the screen, "Because you can't."

Layla walked up to the desk, "Look at me, Harry."

Harry sighed, shutting his laptop yet again. He turned his chair so he could face Layla, "I've never seen you this heated before. And because of what? An assistant?"

"I know damn well you're doing something with (Y/N) behind my back. Just like all the others."

Harry eyed her, "If that's the case, why are you still with me?"

Layla relaxed. She chuckled, "Is this why you've been sleeping around? Are you trying to get me to break off the wedding? Is your plan to say to my father that I broke it off so he shouldn't pull out the money invested into your business?"

"You're a smart woman, Layla...but I never said I was sleeping around."

"Cut the bullshit, Styles." She walked over, "If you ever get caught my father would rip this building to shreds before you can say--"

Silence. 

That was the last thing you heard, Layla being cut off. You assumed she stopped arguing, or maybe Harry did something so revolting she had to stop talking--an abrupt slam against the wall made you jolt. You jumped out of your seat, staring at the wall. You assumed the worst, rushing through the door, "Harry--"

Your eyes widened.

Harry stared at you, his arms tucked under Layla's thighs as his strength pushed her against the wall. You spotted the faint lipstick on his neck, averting your eyes to Layla who was panting heavily. Layla looked at you, "Get out."  It would the first time you listened to her, rushing out the office as the words, "I'm sorry" repeatedly passed your lips until you shut the door behind you. You found yourself backed against the farthest wall, your hand over your mouth as soft whimpers escaped you. Your stomach twisted as your eyes built up tears. Before you could burst into tears, you quickly walked out into the hallway and into the nearest restroom.