blue (book one) - h.s. ✔️ watty's 2019

chapter 45

"What would you like to know first?" he begins hesitant. The atmosphere has changed considerably. It's hard to read, but I don't necessarily sense anything negative, just anxiety.

"I would like to know more about your mom, if that's okay with you. I've heard bits and pieces from some of the guys down at the station, but nothing to revealing," I start picking the leftover lettuce from my Guadalajara chalupa off the sides of my mouth.

This guacamole is to die for.

I see Harry visibly tense before opening his mouth to speak. I don't force his answer and give him the time he needs to find the right words.

"A few years ago, my sister Gem and I, you remember me telling you about Gem?" he cuts, eyes making contact with me since I asked him the question.

I simply nod, interested.

"We had just come home from school. We never even suspected a thing was wrong when there were police cars in front of our house," he continues, distant.

I scrunch my eyebrows.

"Just figured it was my dad - I assume you know who Desmond is by now," he seethes through his teeth and I again, nod, remembering hearing about the older man that Harry put in the hospital.

I didn't know that was his father.

"Just figured it was my dad fucking shit up again," he spits, fist clenched.

I take my hand and gently uncurl his fist, intertwining each of our fingers, which causes him to smile lightly and visibly relax.

"When we got inside, instead, we saw mum on the floor having a seizure," his eyes are everywhere but on me when he speaks.

"I remember covering Gem's eyes with both of my hands after being pushed to the side by paramedics."

His honesty marvels me. His vulnerability makes me feel like I'm prying, but he assures me it's fine.

"A couple of days later - my aunt would stop by often to check up on us - we were notified of her illness: dementia," he announces softly.

"When she was okay to come home she slowly, but surely began forgetting things, people. Gem was the first to go; a runaway. She dropped out of school. The police said she was of age and therefore a legal adult capable of making her own decisions. I haven't seen her since," he concludes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I don't respond. I don't know how to. Placing a small kiss on his knuckles I move on to the next question.

"Why did you miss three weeks of school?" I ask, remembering how hurt I was when he didn't respond to my messages.

"Ah," he begins.

"I was taking care of my mum. I had it planned for a while. . . professors knew about it," he says, nonchalantly.

"You didn't respond to any of my messages - not even one."

"I know, baby. I was in a much different mindset at the time. Things are so different now. When you stopped texting me, I strangely grew angry. But not with you, with myself,"

"That's when I realized I couldn't be without you," he continues, looking me in my eyes.

"So, when I had heard from Alex that you were seeing someone else - some guy in Arizona - I freaked," he confesses, looking shameful.

What?

"I never was 'seeing' anyone," I start, placing air quotations around the word.

"I went home to visit my parents," I confirm and confusion, anger, and then understanding flash across his face systematically.

"That little fucker," Harry says after a while, laughing at himself.

"I was so pissed, Park. I guess I can see why he's say that. I swore that I'd punish you when I saw you again," he claims, sending a chill down my spine.

I wonder what this punishment entailed.

He could see why Alex would want to pick a fight with him?

I look down at both of our plates to see that they are in fact clean. We finished a while ago and instinctively I check my watch unbothered by the time.

"Everything okay?"

"Mmhmm," I hum as we both take a sip, through the straws, of my water. The romantic action causes me to smile.

"What else do you have for me?" Harry asks, seeming more comfortable with the conversation.

I guess the bad part is over.

Stretching out his arms he extends both out taking up his entire booth.

"Tell me about your childhood," I ask, after looking around to see that we are pretty much the only ones left in the small restaurant.

I didn't think it was that late.

"Well, before the dementia and shit, it was pretty awesome," he starts bluntly.

"Up until I was around thirteen years, I only have sweet memories of being a kid," he clarifies.

"What happened at thirteen," I ask.

"I started babysitting," he spits, and I flinch involuntarily remembering the older woman he sat for. Disgusting.

"Sorry, baby," he apologizes stacking our plates.

"Perdoname, señor Styles, cerraremos el restaurante pronto," Rose speaks in the language I'm unfamiliar with.

"Ah, gracias. Tomaremos el cheque ahora, por favor," he answers fluently, sending the lady away.

"I thought you weren't good at Spanish," I question, eyebrows scrunched.

He simply smiles back at me after taking out several twenty's to leave on the table.

Raising an eyebrow at him, he just chuckles.

"What? She's cool," he shrugs leaving it at that.