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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HARRY E. STYLES May, 2020
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
A sharp pain shot through my head. From the back to the front. Prying my eyes open against the blinding lights, my chapped lips fell apart in anguish. A deep inhale of the stagnant smell made me gag, puffing up my cheeks as I turned my head, pushing my nose into my shoulder to ease the foulness lingering around me.
I couldn't move.
Forcing my body to shift against the uncomfortable chair, it did nothing. Arms tied behind the furniture and my legs secured to the poles holding up the wooden creation, I was at a disadvantage. The shooting pain in my head squeezed a low groan from my chest, reminding me of the last clear memory I had.
The fight with Griffin. Then getting home. My keys falling to the ground. Darkened vision and a hit to the head.
How long have I been out?
Panic started to kick in. My nerves were wrecking me from the inside. My body sweating.
Noise. There was noise coming from somewhere. Loud voices. Chatter. Dripping. Something was dripping in this room. The light above me, hanging from a wire, without a shade around the bulb, brightened the room to see far enough. I was in the middle of the room.
Drip.
Drop.
Drip.
Drop.
Twisting my neck around, I couldn't see what it was. My nerves were getting the better of me. It stunk. My wrists ached. They weren't held by rope, it was thinner—zip ties?
I jolted in my seat at the sudden noise. It came from outside of this room. Heavy steps followed the ruckus. Then the door was thrown open. Natural light hit harder than the yellow glow attached to the ceiling. Cold air rushed inside the divided section, making my body react instantly—goose bumps covered my skin.
A man with a chair in his hand, walked in. He dropped it with ease, the legs of the furniture slamming into the cement floor, a bit of dust flying up into the air. The room changed as the main lights came on. It revealed him at the same time. Dressed in black from head to toe, he wore rings and a thick, gold necklace. His eyebrow was pierced and his nose. Brown hair. The short sleeve of his shirt kept his tattoos on display, not an inch of bare skin showing on his right arm. The left was clean.
Chewing a gum as he spun the chair around, he sat down, arms leaning on the back of it. His knees were apart and his legs bent. He popped the chewy in his mouth as he blew a couple of bubbles. He seemed arrogant.
"Harry Styles. Am I right?" the smell of cinnamon wiped me in the face, revealing the flavour of his chewing gum.
Swallowing did not ease the dryness of my throat. Deciding against speaking, I nodded. The man sitting across from me sighed, inhaling and exhaling through his nose. His jaw tightened every time he bit down on the gum in his mouth.
