This Thing Upon Me [Order The eBook] [Harry Styles]

Chapter 24

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

**********

"I want to go everywhere you love. Show me where you hide, gorgeous."

Harry | Neon Red (2017)

From what I could see, the place was moderately sized. Later I learned it was a 2,300-square-foot, three-bedroom compound, situated just shy of a solid acre. During a brief tour which we embarked on with lots of laughter and old unearthed anecdotes, I learned he had built a sound studio in the garage when he first moved in (before he even did anything to the bedrooms) and added a brick-accented fireplace in the lounge. He also renovated the kitchen with exposed brick around the oven and replaced all the appliances with stainless steel.

"Muh favorite place," he uttered as we entered a dark, oblong room. There was a galaxy painted on the ceiling and the walls were a deep purple, so it had an enveloping effect, like we were stepping through to another dimension. It was a windowless room, so when he shut the door, the only light came from the glowing art along the ceiling.

"Unreal..." I breathed, gazing up. "Who did it?"

"Some cheeky little bloke Malay knows. Talented as f—k." He stared up as though he'd never seen it before. "Youh see the details?"

"Of course! It's so sick I can't stand it."

"I know," he smirked. "It almost reminds me of...what d'you call dem things? With the fishes?"

"Fish tank?"

"Noh...the a-aquarium?"

"Oh yeah, I see it now. It surrounds you...super fooking vivid."

"Yeah, exactlyh."

"You smoke in here?" I asked, noticing the two giant bean bags and a small coffee table at the far end of the room. He hesitated before allowing a knowing grin.

"'Course I do. What else would it be for?"

"True..." I laughed, smelling traces of his latest smoke session.

"When I'm really f—ked up—and I mean like trippin' balls, I like... lay in the middle of the floor here, and just pretend the walls are like...closing in on me. It's super surreal..."

"I've gotta try that..."

"We will..." he snickered, walking past me.

We moved on and I followed close, studying the fantail bird that rested on the back of his neck, reaching down between his shoulder blades. It was his best ink (in my opinion), and added a touch of softness to his hard-wired masculinity.