In which a former gang member finds solace in a woman who might just be as much of a Nowhere Woman as much as he...a Nowhere Man.
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For mature audiences only
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c h a p t e r t h r e e ⋆✧⋆
"Don't shoot.." The palliative tone of Gillian Holland, reaches the ear of Harry Styles. His green eyes looking the familiar woman from head to toe, blinking ferociously to see if she really is real or just another figment of his imagination in the dreams he experiences at night.
In his observations at the woman, he finds she wears a striped pantsuit that compliments the white crop top hugging snuggly to her taut upper body. The almost blackish tone of the pant suit goes perfectly with the loud red of the glossy boots embellished on her feet- making her look clean, stylish and professional.
As Gillian stands frozen, she feels the skin between her perfectly waxed brows crease at the sight of a bruised up Harry. She goes to speak again when she realises he isn't going to respond back but before she can, the sound of familiar voices echoing in the distant captures her attention and she glances over her shoulder. Making herself vulnerable to Harry if he were to attack- but she knows deep down he won't as he will never dare to shoot her even though the man is infamously known for his ability to kill.
He quickly follows her line of sight and curses under his breath when the figure of a familiar man slouched on a shorter woman's shoulder, comes strolling around the corner. The glow of a nearby street lamp in the car lot beside them flickers a ray of white light onto the couple who dress to compliment one another. A perfectly ironed black suit is sported by the man with a subtle scruff on his sharp jaw and brunette hair gelled back into a slick quiff. His eyes so icy they could freeze a person by one simple glance.
But the intense blue softens to a light pastel when they land on his partner in crime. The woman strolling beside him holding his pale hand that sits on her shoulder. Her very own remarkable blue eyes looking up at him when he sniggers lightly at something he had said.
A smile graces her lips ever so slightly when his mouth brushes against her ear when he leans down to whisper to her. Strands of her long brunette hair flows with the breeze that howls around them. Causing the hair to brush against his nose and he brings his index finger up to rub the tickled area when he pulls away. She looks down at the boots on her feet that are identical to Gillians; except black. They clink along the concrete path with every step her black pant cladded legs take. A professional jacket and turtle neck to match, with a golden necklace to flatter her neck against the deep black of the fabric of her clothing.
Then both of their fierce blue eyes instantaneously spot a perplexed Harry stood at the motel door with a much too calm, Gillian.
"Listen..Harry." Gillian looks back around at him. Eyes softening as she prepares herself to somehow convince him to come home. "Everyone back in New York...even England need you. You can't keep running away..we'll just keep finding you." Her expression contorts with worry. "And I don't think either of us want that. I think save us from using more money and resources to find you and instead come back home, yeah?"
