It's Complicated... - H.S

Chapter 30: Fall In Line.

A/N: Trigger warning, Harry Styles is about to open up a can of whoopass.

MARIGOLD'S POV:

    I wake up in my bed alone so I get up right away, assuming Harry is either in his or in the kitchen. I move from my bedroom, and see what I figured. Harry is shirtless, cooking breakfast per usual, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his hair thrown back in a messy bun. I walk in, and move behind him, tangling my arms around him, holding him this way. My cheek presses to his bare back, his heartbeat loud in my ear. One hand comes up, moving back and forth on my arm as I hold him.

    "Good morning.." I mumble softly, and he turns the stove off, and unlatches my arms from him, turning around. He takes me by the hips, and lifts me up right away, placing me on the counter.

    "How are you darling?" He asks, and I shrug. "I know.. I know it's not easy." He mumbles, his hand coming up to move my hair away from my neck. He looks at the marks, his fingers grazing the hot skin. I close my eyes, letting him touch me, but I feel his lips instead. A soft kiss pressed to me. "This shouldn't have happened to you... You have to know that.." He mumbles, his eyes still locked on my neck.

    "I'm just angry... Angry I never stood up for myself.. Angry that I trusted when he said the things he did that he said them out of kindness... I just wish I could give him a piece of my mind... Now that I've told someone... I don't know, I just wish there was something I could do." I shrug, and cross my arms.

    "You could do something..." He offers, and I laugh.

    "What? Email the dean and have him not believe me?" I ask, and Harry shakes his head.

    "Say something... Give him that part of you that you held back. Say whatever you wanted to say.." He tells me, and I think about it.. Thinking about what it would feel like to let him have it. To just lay it down saying everything will be forgotten if he would just be what he's supposed to be... a professor. Tell him I hate him, that he's disgusting... "Or I could.. I'd really love to go up there, and fucking see him." He mutters, and I shake my head.

    "I don't... I don't want you there." I mumble, and he shakes his head.

    "No. I'm all for you speaking your mind, standing up for yourself, being a badass and all that good stuff but you're not going to go to that classroom with that man and not have someone there. I don't even have to be in the room.. Better yet, give me your phone." He mumbles, and I pass it over. He opens it, presses a few buttons, and soon after presses the phone to his ear.

    "It's Harry actually... Yea, I know you don't like me but I need your help. Goldie needs your help... Someone's fucking with her, someone you know... Yes, that's the kind of help we need, no I don't need Johnny, just meet at our apartment as soon as you can please." He hangs up the call, and I take my phone back, seeing Krys' name.

    "She's going to be so upset with me..." I mumble, and he cradles my face.

    "No... She won't be anything but enraged that someone fucked with you G... She'd kill someone for you, she loves you... She's not going to be upset with you... So look there, you've got both of us going with you, we'll be there, we'll do this however you want to do it, you're calling the shots." He tells me, and I nod.

    "I don't want you guys in the room... I want to do this on my own. This is my battle to fight, not yours, not Krys but mine..." I tell him, looking down, and he lifts my gaze.

    "Whatever makes you feel good is what we will do... The past month you've questioned yourself, you've doubted who you are... You've changed.. I love you no matter what, but whatever gets you back to feeling like you whether that's doing nothing, or blowing the whole damn school up we're going to do it okay?" He asks me, and I nod. "Can you tell me now how all of this started... and what happened yesterday?" He asks me, and I nod, getting a lump in my throat. We get our breakfast, and I sit down on the counter, him leaning against the opposite counter, holding his plate.