They met at the wrong time under the wrong circumstances, in a world that was not theirs. They had no choice but to move on from each other.
Five years later, Griffin Walker and Harry Styles meet again. How will it end this time?
LOVE BUILT ON LIE...
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HARRY E. STYLES December, 2014
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Nearing the closing time, there were less and less people inside. It made it easier to catch my breath and manoeuvre on the floor that had certain sticky or slippery spots whilst serving the last customers. Tonight, was hectic, absolutely bonkers with how much business we had. I was used to the numbers but the times it came out of nowhere, no matter how prepared I was, it still caught me off guard.
I drove to work last night so I knew I would be paying a visit to the McDonald's that was just a little out of my way. It had been hours since anything edible entered my stomach and it was growling the whole time.
Usually, it was my job to get the last of the people out. So, as I did my little trip all over the club, it didn't surprise me to find drunk students all over the place. What did come as a shock to me was the sight of my mortal enemy. She was sitting in one of the booths, minding her own business, playing on her phone. There was still a half full glass in front of her, along with her bag on the table.
"We're closing so I'm afraid you're going to have to leave," I said to her which drew her attention to me. Her lips formed a small 'o' shape and then locked her phone, picking up the bag.
"So, you're finished?"
"Not quite. Have to clean up the mess, don't I?"
"Right," she muttered, seeming disappointed. It caused me to look at her confused, not understanding what she was even doing here at this time. I have never seen her stay anywhere until closing, not that we spent so much time together that it was common knowledge for me. Simply, I knew of her habit, the one where she eyes herself a prey and spends the night in what is most likely Paradise to her.
"Are you okay?" I decided to ask. She looked a little out of it, to be honest. Not in a way that meant she was under the influence of anything. It was more emotional. She looked kind of a mess, her makeup a little different than what I'd imagine it was like when she came. Since I knew she wasn't one to cry, the thought didn't even want to enter my mind as a possibility. It seemed much too strange to think of her crying.
"Why do you care?"
I scoffed. "I don't."
"So, move along then," she moved her hand in the air to get me to step back and I did. Instantly, the quick change in her behaviour stood out to me. At first, she seemed upset then disappointed when she learned my shift was not yet over. Now, she became defensive and cold, not wanting to be in my presence anymore, just be gone from the club all at once.
"Would you like me to call you a taxi?"
"No."
My lips pressed into a thin line, it was clear my efforts were not appreciated. It was genuine worry I would've showed towards anyone in the state she currently holed up in. There are too many occasions where people go missing or get murdered on their way home from a club, vulnerable and alone. Making sure that everyone leaves safe is kind of expected from us. I mean, the boss wouldn't want any negative press surrounding the club if something like that were to happen. Plus, I would be out of a job which I cannot afford.
