Nothing but Trouble {Harry Styles Punk/ AU}

Chapter 2

As we drove, the car ride was filled with silence since I knew he was still pissed about the new school decision without him agreeing to it. His black hair was formed into a messy mop on the top of his head but it only shifted slightly when the wind tried to make it a little bit less of a mess but it was no use; his sea green eyes seemed to be the only feature, besides his bad boy aura, that have gotten girls to drop whatever they were doing to get with him. He was my older brother but only by two hours which meant that we were further apart than close together; we were two different people but others thought different. Others thought we were alike but that only rarely happened when anger filled our veins, something no one usually sees. We're both good at hiding our anger but he had an anger issue which meant that he saw the dean more than anyone else in the school.

When I looked at him closer, my eyes widened in surprise and shock since I didn't really think that I'd see those on him even though he was rebellious. His eyes were beginning to form a bruise around the right one and the other had a cut on his eyebrow, his face was had blood in certain spots along with some of his clothes and knuckles. Our eyes locked on to each other and it was his way of telling me not to ask him what happened but I wanted to know. That was my problem. I was very nosy even after I heard the saying 'curiosity killed the cat' because it made me want to know who, what, when, where, and why.

Jackson kept his eyes on the road which told me that he was ignoring anything I was doing but I didn't know if it was because he was mad at me or because he just didn't want to answer the curious question that was going to leave my lips. I sighed in annoyance more than confusion since he was a very stubborn person, but so was I which meant that was another reason we were alike in some ways. In my eyes, Jackson would always be that boy that dancing around the house just in his boxers without a care to the world though the world believed he had no fun or soul. Utter bullshit.

The silence surrounding us suddenly disappeared when a black rover pulled up next to us, the music blasting loudly as though they were the only people on the road. I went to turn my head to look at them but Jackson had other plans when he grabbed my hand tightly causing me to turn my gaze back to him, his eyes wide. Was that fear? Anger? Revenge? Before I could decipher what was going on, Jackson stepped on the gas pedal and the car flew down the street even though the light was red. My eyes turned wide to match his as I kept my gaze on him, too terrified to say anything.

The sound of gun shots and a car chasing us caused me to snap out of it and duck my heard, the tears already trying to escape but my stubbornness holding them in. I didn't cry nor did I like when I cried because it told me that I was being weak; I grew up in a strong house. More about that later. Jackson kept the car going at a fast speed but I never looked at the speedometer, my gaze on the black rover that seemed to follow us. The rover was close to bumping our car but Jackson took a sharp right turn, which I'm guessing the other car didn't expect, and drove down the street as fast as he could.

"Anna," when he called my name, I looked back at him with wide green eyes, "I need you to just put your seat belt on and keep with your head between your knees. Don't look up until I tell you it's alright to do so. Do you understand me?" I nodded my head slowly and did what he said, my eyes shut tightly as I felt the car jerk to a faster speed than before. Jackson stumbled around a bit with the glove compartment before shutting it and something made a clicking noise, sparking my curiosity but I listened to what he said and kept my eyes down. It was a moment of silence besides the car and the wind before a sound made my heart jump to my throat.

Gun shots. From next to me.

I knew Jackson had his troubled past but I never thought of him as the kind of guy to use guns; he just didn't strike me that way. Sure he had his ears pierced and a few tattoos but that didn't mean he was a bad kid. Or did it? He was the type of bad boy that always left the house around ten at night and never returned until around five in the morning; eyes blood shot from drugs or he was just plain drunk. My parents gave up on any hope in him but I knew there was a reason for all of this, maybe it was my father who never seemed to care about us. I don't know what it was but whatever it was, it tore Jackson up. He didn't really start this 'bad boy' persona until our sophomore year at Emberton, we were getting bullied for being the new kids so one day he just changed.