Misery Loves Company (H.Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 10

Short chapter but a lot happens :) Hope you enjoy xx

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Chapter 10

Hours are extremely long when you’re in a house where the only thing you have access to except air and food is television. The clock ticking in the kitchen is the only sound aside of my breathing when I mute the TV, which I only do everytime I think I hear a car. I try and check the windows but the cement wall surrounding the house blocks the view. Maybe I should ask for a computer, even if it’s without internet access; at least I could play Spider Solitaire or Freecell.

Dropping the remote onto the sofa beside me, I get up and decide that I need to move. Sitting down until Harry comes back tomorrow isn’t going to help me pass time by. So I walk to the entrance of the house and check the closet. There are about ten different coats that aren’t, and two that belong to me. Harry also owns more pairs of shoes than I ever have in my entire life. I check the pockets of all the coats, but other than packs of gum, three pairs of sunglasses and a sealed condom, I have no luck.

The next door is a small toilet room. I’ve never seen this room before, but there isn’t much to see. A toilet sits on the right side of the small square room and in front of it is a vintage sink with a mirror above it. There aren’t any drawers or cabinets, so I turn the light off and close the door.

The kitchen area doesn’t have any closed doors and I’ve already seen most of it after spending most of my hours doing nothing but cooking. I don’t even bother going back now, not until I make a discovery. So this is my challenge of the day: I am not allowed to eat or watch television until I find something in the house. Anything. At least I can find a way to entertain myself.

Beside the staircase that leads to our bedroom is another closed door that I havbehien’t had the courage to open. But today, I do. And all it takes me to is another staircase, but this one takes me to the basement. After patting the wall for a light switch, I find myself facing a home cinema with a giant wall to wall screen and sleek black leather sofas. All three walls and parts showing of the fourth are painted in a taupe color with black wooden frames contouring them. An electric guitar sits against the right wall, along with an amplifier connected to it with several chords, and a black and white framed picture of Elvis Presley is hung on the left wall.

If he has a cinema room, why have we been watching movies in the living room and in his bedroom?

Behind the couch, two black doors are waiting to be opened. They’re practically calling my name when I slowly approach. I reach for the knob, wondering if this maybe is the Red Room of Pain, à la Fifty Shades of Styles, or if it’s simply another room hiding in the house.

A gym. Harry Styles has a gym in his house. It’s small, but it’s still holds a treadmill, a bench press, a bike, a punching bag and weights. I imagine Harry working out his frustration in this gym when I’m in bed and I don’t hear him in his room. I should’ve known. Maybe that’s how he’s been controlling himself not to hit me. I suddenly feel bad for the bunching bag to absorb all his hits.

Leaving the room quietly, I turn the lights off in the basement and make my way up the stairs when I hear footsteps in the living room area. I stop and listen carefully but all I can here are steps, no voices. “Harry?”

It’s only about four in the afternoon, and Harry precisely said that he wouldn’t be home for another day. When there’s no reply, I walk the last few steps up to the door and open it. A very lost Zayn is standing in front of the door with a frown on his face and his hands in his pockets.