About (Harry Styles)

46.

Songs I've been listening to:

Little Do You Know - Alex and Sierra
Surrender - Natalie Taylor

Elaine!

The loud outcry of my name lures me from the darkness. My eyes flutter open to a well lit room as a small gasp escapes my lungs. The natural beams of the sun shines easily through the window, but it shortly adds to the small pounding in my head. I scan the room which is luckily a familiar sight. But I realize quickly that it's not the guest room I was supposed to stay in.

It's Harry's room.

"How did I get here?" I mumble to myself as I rub tiny circles gingerly on my temples. These headaches have been occurring too often.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to recall the events of last night.

Contorted features of a faceless face ...

An endless echoing of my name ...

His worried expression flashes in my eyes for the briefest moment before I reopen my eyes.

Harry.

He's the one with the distorted features. He's the one who called out my name so desperately.  I must've passed out or something and he must've carried me here.

I can still feel him around me. His warm, strong arms holding onto me as if he was holding onto dear life itself.

There's an upbeat knock at the door, and I flinch slightly at the unexpected sound. I'm relieved to see that it's Anne when the door opens. Her gleaming smile is somewhat alleviating considering the state my head is in.

"Morning, dearest," she says. Her hair is tied in a ponytail as she wears an apron with rabbits and apples on the skirt portion. I return the greeting as she gracefully pads to the foot of the bed. "Did I wake you?"

"No," I smile weakly. "I just woke up actually."

"Very well. Did you get a good night's sleep? Harry told us what happened last night."

Oh no. What did he say to them...

"Poor thing, you," she frowns. "Harry said you had a nightmare last night and couldn't sleep."

"Yeah," is all I can say.

"I'm glad he can bring you some comfort at least. Anyway I should probably tell you why I'm here," she says, a hint of nervousness behind her tone. She asks if she can sit on the bed and I let her. She fidgets the material of her apron through her fingers as she clears her throat. "Harry's real dad is here." She says, her innocent eyes observing my reaction.

Real dad? As in the actual Mr. Styles.

"Oh," I say, raising my brows in slight surprise. I thought she was going to say something much worse.

"I didn't want you to see a strange man and be surprised to see an unfamiliar face in the house," Harry's mother says with concern. "He didn't even let us know he was coming. Apparently he was the one responsible for Harry's drunken state last night. Des had to drive him home and so he just spent the night here."

"Oh, okay," I say.

"He's just staying for breakfast then he's leaving right after," she assures me. I'm getting the feeling she doesn't want him here. "I hope that's okay with you."

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

"I don't know if Harry's told you but since you're someone .. important to him now, I don't want there to be any secrets."