Misery Loves Company (H.Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 7

WARNING: The end of this chapter gets dark. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 7

When Harry decides that he will be rolling the paint while I brush, the look he gives me tells me that I cannot retort or decide otherwise. He picks up the roller from the floor and rolls it gently in the tray of pink paint, the white fluffy roller slowly getting stained. My cup hasn’t moved from where I had left it on the floor by the window, and I pick it up carefully so it doesn’t spill on the blanket covered floor.

Harry and I don’t speak. We don’t look at each other, we don’t stand next to each other and we especially don’t go for paint at the same time. When my cup is empty, I simply use the excess paint off the brush until Harry is done using the tray. I then drag my legs to the gallon can and pour a generous amount in my plastic solo cup. I also try not to breathe too much, just in case my breath hits his and he reads my escaping thoughts. Who knows.

Soon, the first coat of paint is done and the white walls have now become a light shade of bubble gum pink. Even the ceiling is matching and nothing has leaked on the white doors. I empty the remaining of my cup into the gallon of paint and quickly go to the bathroom to wash my hands while Harry empties what is left in the tray into the can. He doesn’t say anything when he leaves the room quietly, and I hear his footsteps going down the stairs.

I walk slowly down the hall to his bedroom, since my clothes are temporarily set there until my room is completed, and I quickly change into clean pyjamas. Not one drop of paint has touched my bare legs and I managed to clean off the few dry patches of pink on my hands. The dirty basketball shorts go straight in the hamper, along with the borrowed shirt and the previous clothes I had worn.

“Elena?”

I’m startled when an echo of my name is heard through the bedroom. Harry shouts my name once more, however it is more urgent this time. I sigh heavily and respond to his call before he gets upset and hurries upstairs to reprimand me.

“Coming,” I shout, walking in a fast pace to the staircase. I abandon the hair tie on my way and let my hair loose for the dramatic effect, but it simply gets tangled when I reach the living room, where Harry is comfortably settled on the couch with his iPhone. He looks up, his green eyes searching for my blue ones which they find easily, since I’d rather not defy him. After all, he’s probably upset enough as it is.

Harry pats the seat next to him in order for me to join him on the sofa and I obey. We’re quiet for a few moments but he’s the one who breaks the killer silence. “We have to speak about what happened earlier.” His voice is husky and low, the words slowly pronounced to perfection. “I’m not mad, but I am disappointed.”

Nodding, I swallow harshly at what is coming. “I’m sorry,” I gush out and break the eye contact to look at my feet on the floor.

“Love, it’s alright. Don’t be afraid.” Harry stretches his arm and pulls my chin up with his fingertips so I’m forced to look at him. “I won’t let you go anywhere. You’re mine.”

I nod again, my breath cutting short from the sad truth he’s just said.

“Elena, don’t look at me like this. You can talk to me. Tell me how you feel, tell me what you want. Just speak to me instead of looking at me like a sad puppy.”

If he wants me to speak, he might not hear what he wants to. But I guess if he’s going to keep me from escaping, he needs to know how I truly feel about it. “I feel trapped. I need my life, my personal space. I miss my mom and my dad, and I miss my friends. Harry, I’m not even in my country.” I take a deep breath and push back the tears welling up in my eyes. “I feel lonely and I’m hurting, not just emotionally but physically too. My arm hurts, my legs hurt, I’m hardly moving and I feel tired. This isn’t normal.”