Idiosyncrasy (Harry Styles AU)

21

   

Harry's POV

     The beating of my heart is loud in my ears, drowning everything else out like a drum. My knee bounces impatiently and I check my watch frequently.

Who knew waiting for my own father could be so nerve wracking. It was never like this when I lived in Cheshire and visited him. But then again, I was a young naïve kid; I didn't know my father was such a monster.

I cough awkwardly and look at the door in front of me expectantly. It's stood unmoving for the past twenty plus minutes, leaving me exasperated and annoyed.

Suddenly, the door at last opens and a man steps out, face red and fists clenched tight at his sides.

"Good luck," he mutters through gritted teeth, storming past me.

I stand hesitantly, taking a deep breath to compose myself. Who knows? Maybe I could be dead today.

Opening the door a crack, I stick my head in.

"Come in, Harry," Des mumbles, not looking up from the manila folder in his hand.

I shut the door reluctantly behind me after stepping inside, and then walk up to his desk slowly.

"Sit down," he commands, still not meeting my eyes.

Great. I caught him when he's on one of those moods of him. This isn't going to end well. I contemplate leaving and then coming back later, but I know that's not really an option.

Des finally sits back after I lower myself into the chair he motioned to and drops the folder on his desk. He picks up a glass with a brownish liquid in it, bringing it to his lips. He gives me a once-over, and I squirm uncomfortably in my seat.

"Rolling stones, huh?" Des comments, referring to my navy blue t-shirt.

I nod, folding my hands nervously in my lap.

"Terrible band," he mutters, setting his glass back down.

I'm about to answer his rude comment, but he cuts me off. "So, Harry. I like all the progress you've made so far with Sandy, it's really encouraging."

If I didn't know my father was a monster, or that he was just praising me for committing a crime, I would have been happy. My father telling me he's proud of me is something I have wanted to hear my entire life, but he was never around to tell me anything.

I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. I just want to get this over with and not get killed in the process.

"Yeah, about that," I start, my palms starting to sweat. "I can't do it. I can't kill Sandy."

It's eerily quiet for the next few minutes, until I hear the sudden shatter of glass. Looking up from my folded hands at Des, I realize he'd thrown his cup at the wall behind me.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Styles?" he asks, voice monotone. His eyes have turned black and his hands are shaking from anger.

I want out. I don't want to be here. I can't die yet.

He pulls put a pistol from his belt. "Because if you'll just repeat that for me, I can end your life quickly and painlessly."

My heart leaps to my throat, and I stand abruptly.I can't utter a word, and I swallow thickly; but the lump in my throat won't go away. It's growing, starting to choke me.

My life flashes before my eyes, and I can barely comprehend what's going on anymore. As if in a trance, I pull my own pistol from my coat pocket, quickly firing two shots at the wall just above Des' head.