Bad Blood

Unbelievable

After a lot of arguing—to the point where he threw a lamp—I finally got Harry to let me use his guest bedroom. I did a mental happy dance at the thought that I beat the infamous Harry Styles in an argument. Harry gave an irritated grunt before leading me to his spare room. I looked around to see that it was a light powder blue the bed matching the room with white sheets. There was a wooden nightstand on each side of the bed with modern looking lamps on them. There was also a white eight drawer dresser on the right and a six drawer dresser with a mirror. I saw a closet a few feet next to to the dresser whose wooden doors were also white. Harry left a few seconds later to do "business", which a new born would know what he actually meant. I laid down on the bed for a while until I decided to the explore; starting with the room that would probably be the only place where I could have privacy, hopefully. I went to the dresser and looked through its drawers to discover that it was completely empty. The room kinda gave of that feel of emptiness. As if nobody ever used this room. No memories were probably ever made in this place, which kind if saddened me. It only confirmed my suspicions about Harry being all alone in this world-except for his so called "friends".

I wonder what happened to his family? Did they leave him, or was he the one to leave them? Well, he certainly had an accent, telling me that he wasn't American...so why was he here. If he was here and not where he was from, did that mean he just left his family? Was Harry their only source of money? What if they were starving to death? I shook my head, clearing the overflowing thoughts out of my mind. I was over thinking about this. It annoyed me that I did that, but that was part of who I was, in other words: I just deal with it.

There was a small sticker on the corner of the mirror that read Hartman. Was that the maker of the dresser? Most people would take off anything unnecessary but I guess Harry must've missed it. I went to the closet to see that it was an empty walk in closet; empty, of course. I didn't bother going to the other dresser, knowing that it would probably also be empty. I was feeling tired and decided to look around for a clock. I immediately noticed one next to the door, it was a big white clock. It read eleven-thirty. Was it really that late? I always slept around nine, so that would explain why I was so tired. How I wasn't knocked out right now is a mystery to me. I slowly walked to the bed, sleep already taking over my body now that I've actually acknowledged it. In to the bed I went, my head hitting the pillow and then everything went black.

I heard a small jingling from far away. I slowly opened my eyes to see the door open slightly until it swung wide open, revealing the man I despised the most, Harold.

He stumbled towards me...was he...? I think so. As he walked—more like stumbled— towards me I saw that I was right: Harry was drunk off his ass.

"Go away, Harold." I sighed as he sat on my bed.

"Shit! You're awake!" He pronounced.

"Yeah, and you're drunk." I grumbled.

"Maybe you should go sleep." Harry suggested with a frown.

Ignoring him I ask the time, "Last time I checked it was around four twenty in the morning." He answered. My eyes widened before I threw the pillow over my head. A few minutes passed before I felt a hand gently rub my back. It soon started lowering itself until it was just on the spot where my back dimples are. My breathing stopped, waiting, and waiting for Harry's hand to keep moving. Until it finally did. His hand was officially groping my ass.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I angrily spat. Harry's eyes met mine for a second until they flickered to his hand that was rested upon my derriere.

"I don't know, I thought we could have some... fun?" He said seductively.

"No, Harold. I advise you to get the hell out before I get ever more pissed off!" I ordered him as I flipped around so I was now facing him.