Idiosyncrasy (Harry Styles AU)

30

Harry's POV

The rain doesn't help much with my sucky day. Neither does the fact that the parking lot is so damn far away from the building. So long story short, by the time I reach the lobby, the deluge has started to flood the sidewalks. My clothes are soaked through to my skin, and I'm not in the best mood to put it mildly.

I look up as I stumble through the double doors of my apartment complex, meeting the big blue eyes of Bethany. Oh, naturally. Just to add to my perfect day.

She looks away from me, pretending to be busy with something on her desk.

Everything that's happened over the week comes rushing back over me full force, and suddenly I'm exhausted. Tired to the point where if I close my eyes right here and now, I might just collapse on the marble floor and sleep through the rest of the winter.

I gulp, pulling my gaze from the top of Bethany's head and move slowly towards the elevator. I'm probably dripping water all over the perfect floor, but right now all I care about is going to bed and never waking up again.

I press the "up" button, but nothing happens. Suddenly the lights go out, and I sigh dramatically. The damned storm outside made the power go out. Groaning in frustration, I decide to take the stairs.

I trudge up the steps, lost in my own thoughts.

What does Bethany think of me now? I probably deserve everything she thinks. I've destroyed every shred of trust she had for me that I might as well have killed Sandy. It's slowly killing me to think that Bethany will never speak to me again because of something she thinks I did. It hurts almost as much as—

Suddenly, I'm violently pulled from my reminiscence by a hand grabbing me out of nowhere. My body is slammed into the wall and I'm frisked for any weapons I might have. Unfortunately, I've left my gun in my flat so I'm defenseless.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here," Des' gravelly voice is low and menacing, and I contemplate running but I know it's pointless.

Des grabs a fistful of my hair and roughly yanks me around to face him, making me groan in pain. The moment he does, I wish he hadn't. His jaw is clenched in anger and his eyes are dark. But the thing that scares me the most is the silver pistol in his hand. The barrel stares me straight in the face, sending volts of fear shooting down my spine.

Des smirks, catching sight of my sudden fear. "You can't escape this time, son." He puts emphasis on the word "son" and I flinch as he pulls down the collar of my shirt with his forefinger. Beads of sweat pop out on my forehead, and my hands start to tremble. This is the end.

"I missed once," he whispers, menace heavy in his voice. He examines the bandage covering the healing wound on my shoulder. "I won't miss again."

He shoves me back into the wall and motions to the two buff men beside him. They roughly turn my back to face Des again as he loads his pistol.

"Put your hands on the wall," one of them commands in a monotone voice, slapping me across the cheek as I try to see what Des is doing behind me.

My heartbeat is racing in my throat, making me feel dizzy and nauseous with dread.

I never expected my death to be like this; being shot by my own father out of sheer malice and hate. I wonder if what's going through my mind right now went through Sandy's before she was killed, or if she even got a chance to think at all.

My breathing is ragged, and a pain rises in my chest.

"P-please," I beg weakly, voice cracking. "Don't do this."

"Hold him still," Des says surprisingly calmly.

I'm on the verge of a panic attack. I can see the wall spinning in front of me. I'm going down. I can't breathe—

"Wait!"

My eyes snap open, recognizing the voice immediately.

"Beth?" My voice is shaky and quiet, almost a whisper.

"Don't shoot him," she pleads.

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Bethany, get out of the way," I tell her. She's going to get herself killed.

Des laughs humorlessly. "And you must be Bethany," he says, voice sickly sweet. I can just hear the smirk in every smug word that escapes his mouth. He enjoys this; seeing people hurt.

Bethany ignores him. "Don't hurt Harry."

"And why not? I thought you would hate him after what he did." Des sounds like he's talking to a child, and it angers me. I grit my teeth.

"Des," I warn, turning my head to look at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Shut it, Styles!" he shouts back, thrusting the pistol between my shoulder blades. I flinch, feeling the cold barrel of the pistol pressed to the thin material of my t-shirt.

"Don't do that!" Bethany shouts.

Des doesn't move the gun from my back, but I didn't really expect him to.

"Paul, please escort miss Carol back downstairs," Des commands through gritted teeth.

The man to my left removes his hands from my arm and moves toward Bethany.

"No! Don't touch me!" she shrieks.

"Beth, just go," I whisper, glancing over my shoulder at the struggling girl.

"No!"

Her cries gradually begin to fade away, and I know my time is beginning to run out.

Notes

sorry for the cliffhanger D: again

no not really i'm not that sorry baha

anyway i would really love it if you guys would comment. !