Scrabble | Harry Styles

9

Somebody was dead. I reckon, looking back on it now, that was what subconsciously fascinated me the most. That I could so easily let him distract me from something as significant; something so substantial. But in that moment, the dots had yet to connect - it was simply taking each matter one day at a time, and crossing each bridge when I came to it.

His long, jean-clad legs were bent and crossed as he sat a few metres away from me on my bedroom floor. His eyes flickered between me and the board between us, contemplating his next move and pinching his lower lip between his forefinger and thumb.

"I know you're scared." His voice broke me from my thoughts, as my eyes had shifted to his free hand, resting over his knee. I looked up at him, a slightly puzzled look on my face.

"And you aren't? I feel like I'm in a horror movie," I returned, resting my chin in my hand.

Harry blew out a breath, pursing his lips as he watched me. "Is there any real point in being afraid?"

"Other than basic human nature?" I snapped back a little hastily, growing aggravated at his calm demeanour. I was a panicker - I panicked. For him to contrast so greatly to me in that way, really should've soothed me, but instead it just irked me.

He didn't flinch. "Other than basic human nature. It's not like you're next."

I scoffed a little at the idea that somebody being killed would trigger only selfish emotions, rather than concern for other people. "I don't want to see anybody I care about get hurt-"

"Am I on that list?" Harry interrupted smoothly, his head tilting slightly to the side, and I huffed, standing up from the floor and heading over to my bed, slightly unsure of what just wasn't clicking.

"Hey," Harry called after me, standing up and moving closer, "m'sorry. 'Didn't mean to annoy you." He watched my face carefully as I took a seat on the edge of my bed, resting my chin in my hand again. When I didn't answer, he continued, "If I'm being honest, I don't quite know what to do in this situation either. It is scary. M'just reacting in the only way I know how to."

"Looking to feed your ego?" I offered a tiny smile, feeling the bed dip beside me.

"Call it what you want, m'sorry all the same," he returned, tilting his head a little further in order to meet my eyes. I felt the warmth of skin brush over the back of my hand, an inaudible gasp leaving my lips as I registered the touch as Harry's fingertips.

"Why was Vic annoyed with me being there earlier?" he asked me, his hand resting on top of mine now as he spoke, not bothering to address our positioning whilst his eyes bored into mine.

"Hm?" I asked, confused - partially at his shrewdness and continually due to the fact I could feel his hand on my own.

"Earlier," he repeated softly, "she didn't want me there."

I swallowed, "That's not true-"

"No, that's not true," he drew his hand back from my own and furrowed his eyebrows. "Does she not like me?"

I frowned, "Of course she likes you - don't be silly," I said, meaning it. She was a bit iffy back at Zayn's, but I was truly choosing not to think much of it. Despite this, I was still near impressed that Harry had taken note of such a thing - or, rather, that he even cared enough to do so.

He let out a quiet hum amidst a sigh, shrugging. "You're lying, it's okay. It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

"Why would it bother me?"

"Just might," he replied, drumming his fingers over his thigh, "people don't always like me. It's not a bad thing." I raised an eyebrow at his somewhat contradictory statement.