Adopted By Harry Styles

6

MADDI'S POV

It was weird eating an actual breakfast, one that wasn't just a small bowl of plain cereal. I don't think I've ever even had pancakes before, but I didn't have it in me to tell that to Harry. I don't think I would be able to take the look of pity he'd give me if I told him, whether it be genuine or not.

And it was weird sitting with someone while I ate. With Mr. Wallows, I would make his meal, and then he'd send me straight upstairs to eat.

It wasn't uncomfortable eating with Harry, but it felt strange. I knew he was keeping a close eye on me while I ate, but that was only because he was trying to figure me out, figure out my story.

To be fair, I wasn't making that too easy for him, figuring out my story that I didn't quite understand myself. Part of me wanted to let him in completely, tell him everything.
My real mom.
Mr. Wallows.
The people who were harassing me at the park.
Everything.

But my anxious thoughts would never let me do something like that. I have always told myself that the world was out to get me, that everyone was here to make my life miserable, and, despite knowing that's not true, it was hard not to think that after having it ingrained in my mind for so many years.

"Maddi?" Harry asks, he sounded confused.

I look over at him and wait for him to continue.

"You alright, love? You seemed to have zoned out there," he says. His lips press into a thin line as he looks me in the eyes, but he wasn't angry. It was like he was concentrating, searching for some answers.

"I'm okay," I say with a shrug of my shoulders. I was hoping to make him brush it off as if it was nothing.

He nods his head, disbelieving, and continues to look me in the eyes until I finally look down.

I felt almost exposed when Harry looked at me, his expressions full of concern. But I know that's only because no one else has been concerned for me before. I'm usually never given a second thought, or any thought really. Actually, he is the first person I can recall asking me if I'm alright.

When I look away, Harry decides to drop the wordless interrogation and stands up. "I'm going to make a couple phone calls and get everything settled with Mr. Wallows and your living situation. That sound good?" He says while taking my empty plate and walking over to the sink.

"Yes," I say quietly, though I hadn't meant for it to be as quiet as it did. I still felt unsure about this, living with a man who I just met yesterday, leaving Mr. Wallows, getting foster care workers involved. It was strange.

Harry loads the plates into the dishwasher, and I wanted to get up and help him. I felt guilty for just sitting here. But he finished before I had the opportunity to get up.

He comes back over and sits back down. "Do you think you'd be able to talk a little bit about what has been going on with Mr. Wallows to the people on the phone?" He asks me.

I don't respond. Instead I look down and fiddle with my fingers, unintentionally telling him that I didn't want to talk to the people on the phone.

That wasn't even my main concern about the situation, though. Truthfully, I just didn't want Harry to hear the full story, I didn't want him to think of me as a freak, and I didn't want him to change his mind about me living with him.

"Its okay," Harry says, his hand resting on my shoulder. He meant the gesture as a form of comfort, but it made me flinch, so he took his hand away.

"I'm sorry, darling," he apologizes, even though I should be the one apologizing for being the girl who can't be touched without freaking out. "I think they're going to hear a little bit from you, though. So what can we do to make that a little bit easier for you, hm?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't want you...to think of me as a freak...if you hear," I admit timidly in phrases.

"For the record, I'm never going to think of you as a 'freak,' no matter what has happened to you. But, if that's what you're worried about, I can step out of the room while you talk to them," he says. His voice was gentle, which surprised me. I expected him to be upset that I would be keeping secrets from him, but he was the opposite.

"Okay," I respond. I still haven't gained the courage to look back up at him, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"That'll work?" He asks for confirmation.

I nod my head.

"Good. You're going to do just fine, I can promise you that," Harry says. "I'm going to step out just for a minute and talk to them alone, and then I'll come back in and hand you the phone, alright?"

I nod my head again and watch as he stands up from his chair. "I'll be right back, darling," he assures me before walking into another room, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I look around, admiring the few paintings he had on the walls and playing silly games, like counting how many cabinets were in the kitchen or the number of tiles on the floor.

Really, I was just trying to distract myself from thinking about what Harry was saying and what the outcome of this whole situation would be.

I didn't want to go back to Mr. Wallows, but I couldn't be sure Harry wasn't just another Mr. Wallows, too. This could all be an act, and it worried me that I couldn't tell whether or not it was until it's too late.

It would be just as easy for Harry to put on the 'nice face' as it was for Mr. Wallows. And, knowing my luck, that's exactly what will happen.

Because good things don't happen for me. Good things don't happen for girls with problematic moms and a history of horrible foster parents.

(A/N: Hi! It's been a while, sorry about that. I'm finally starting this story back up again. The ten year anniversary really reminded me of how much I love Harry...
Thanks for reading! I hope my writing has gotten at least a little bit better than the first five chapters over this long break! ❤️)