Rain | Harry Styles

5.4

'still high with a little feeling, i see the smile as it starts to creep in.'

(home - one direction)

-

A.

"I'd like to talk," he pressed, and I frowned.

"I don't understand why you would want to talk to me," I said honestly. His actions had nothing to do with me, the only effect being the pain it had caused Harry, Celia, and Gemma.

"Well, you're dating my son, I presume?" he asked again, and I sighed.

"Yes, but I'm not involved with this," I chewed on my lip, "it's none of my business - or yours, for that matter."

"Oh, come on," he groaned, while all I did was raise my eyebrows, "so my son and I had a little tiff when he was younger - he needs to get over it."

"Are you kidding?" I scoffed, "A 'tiff'? He endured years of abuse from you. You can't really expect him to welcome you back with open arms - you were a monster to him," I blurted out before I knew what I was saying, mentally slapping a hand over my mouth, figuring I shouldn't have even said that - the expression on Ken's face confirming that.

"So you've made it your business," he gave me a look that usually would intimidate me - but now, it only fuelled my anger, "You're a clever girl, aren't you..?" he trailed off.

"Ana."

"Ana," he spoke, his accent thick as his gaze hardened a little, "if you truly have Harry's best interest in mind - you'll sit down and chat to me for a minute. I wouldn't do this if it weren't important."

I blew out a long exhale, nervously shifting from foot to foot. I knew if Harry were here he'd be literally dragging me away, but somehow my head began to form a nod, and I followed Ken over to a small roundtable with two chairs outside of the coffee shop. I sat down opposite him, shoving the two empty cups from the coffee I'd dropped into the trashcan beside the table.

"I only have a couple of minutes," I told him, fumbling with the charm bracelet on my wrist in search of some comfort which I simply couldn't seem to find. His eyes held the same piercing gaze as Harry's did, but his was cold, brutal - cruel. And all I could see when I looked into them was a young Harry, beaten and tossed around by the man who possessed them. 

"That's all I need," he nodded, before asking, "How long have you been with my son?"

"Does it matter?"

His eyes flickered to the bracelet I fiddled with between my fingers, "Haz get you that?"

My eyes narrowed, "you ask an awful lot of questions," I snapped.

"Right, right," he raised his hands, "I'm sorry," all I did was scoff bitterly when he continued, "I'm sorry about a lot of things."

"The fact you believe the abuse you made your family endure for so many years can be classed as a 'tiff' proves that you're really not sorry at all."

Ken pursed his lips, "You're not being very open-minded, here."

"I don't have to be. I know who you are, and that's enough for me."

"I had a lot of problems when Haz was growing up," he dismissed it, "but I'm far better now. I didn't come back for nothing, you know."

"Then why did you come back?"

"To tell the truth," he hissed, "everybody thinks I'm so bad, but I'm here to tell the truth. Haz would never listen to me, but I know he'd listen to you."