Nonentity // Harry Styles [AU]

"I didn't mean to kill those people," Harry whispered, shaking his head lightly as he stared at his pale hands.

The hands that were always stained with dark, putrid blood that smelled of rusting copper and bits of iron. It was like I could hear the screams of the men and women who begged for mercy before their eyes reached the back of their skull and their lungs no longer could hold air.

"They have your prints. You're all over the news. Turn yourself in now and you might not get the worst of all sentences,' I muttered.

He finally looked up at me. His eyes burning a small hole through my own. They held regret. But soon were replaced by indignation.

"Never," he whispered so softly.

So softly that you could barely hear it.

But I heard it. I always heard his soft whispers that were just begging to be heard.