a/n: the as it was references in here hehe ... also the leaks? i haven't listened but omg ...

I was nearly falling asleep with the book in my hands as I read on the sofa. Even if it was an adventurous book, I was simply tired from my day as a whole. Glancing at the clock, above my television, I noticed it was just past eight-thirty now. It had only been about an hour and a half since I had gotten home, but I really was exhausted. Sighing to myself, I tried to keep my eyes open as best as I could, though, I was about to fall asleep when I heard a knock at my door. My body jumped, and I found myself mustering up the energy to get off the sofa. Setting my book down on the coffee table, I walked over to the door. When I glanced out the peephole, I wasn't surprised to see Harry, leaving me to pull the door open quickly.

"Hi, doll," he greeted.

"Hi."

"How was your day?" he asked.

"I'm not doing this."

"Doing what?" he smirked.

"This," I told him. "The chit chat. I'm tired, Harry, I want to say goodnight to you."

He shook his head. I could tell by his posture he seemed like he was hiding something behind his back. It made me nervous, especially since last night he had gone out of his way to bring me flowers. Now, he was holding something again, but I had absolutely zero inclination as to what it could possibly be.

"You're not even going to talk to me a little?" he asked.  "Before you say goodnight, of course."

"Why would I want to talk to someone who picks up the phone in the middle of sex?"

"Who said I was fucking her?"

"You weren't?" I questioned.

"I was."

"And you just get up and answer the phone? You don't see anything wrong with that?"

"I was waiting for you to call me back," he shrugged, still standing on my front porch with his arms behind his back. "She came over, I was alone.  We were in the middle of something, but I think it was a fine reason to take a brief intermission."

"I just don't like it," I told him. "It makes me feel weird."

"Then I'm sorry, okay? Don't get all uptight about it."

"I'm not uptight about it, Harry, I'm just telling you that it's weird."

He rolled his eyes and I could tell he was annoyed with what I had to say, but it needed to be said. There was no reason for him to be irritated with me right now, especially since I was willing to open up my house to him even after my bedtime. Of course, I wanted to just get rid of him, but I knew that he needed to come in to collect his jacket and make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything else. So, I found myself shifting out of the way for him.

"Tell me about your day since you're mad at me," he stated.

"It was fine," I told him as he made his way inside. "How was babysitting?"

"Not too bad. Wayne's kid is about three now. We just played with blocks and cars and then he wanted to watch a movie."

"Nice."

He nodded, clearing his voice as I shut the door behind him and locked it. The two of us walked into the dining room where his jacket was sitting over a chair. I don't know how I hadn't noticed it earlier today, but I guess since I didn't think he had forgotten anything, I hadn't been looking for something in the first place. However, I found myself distracted when Harry placed a nicely wrapped gift on the table, my eyes narrowing on it before I glanced back up at him.

"I was told I couldn't come empty handed."

"Okay," I stated slowly, grabbing the small gift. "If it's jewlery I'm giving it back."

"Luckily it isn't."

I slowly tore the ribbon off of it before unwrapping the gift. At first, I wasn't all that certain as to what it was, but I found myself staring down at the gift, confused when I realized that it was very clearly a cassette tape. Or, a cassette tape in a case. My eyes narrowed as I stared down at it, flipping it over to see he had written a tracklist on a small sheet of paper on the back. I quickly glanced at him, Harry already gazing at me as if he was studying my every move.

"I'm confused."

"And I'm Harry."

"Funny," I grumbled, shaking my head as I looked from the cassette then back at him. "What's this for?"

"For you to listen to," he shrugged. "Or don't. I just didn't want to show up empty handed and figured I could show you what music I enjoyed."

It was still weird to me. Why had he given me a cassette tape with music that he enjoyed on it? Of course, I didn't need to listen to it, but the thought of better understanding him—even if it was just a tiny piece of him—was almost enticing. He had done this on purpose, but why? What was his goal? I knew that what he gave me always had a purpose, so what was the purpose behind this?

1. the seeker
2. people are strange
3. (i can't get no) satisfaction
4. carry on my wayward son
5. have you ever seen the rain
6. brown sugar
7. eyes of the world
8. sweet emotion
9. sympathy for the devil
10. and i love her
11. a hard day's night
12. sick again
13. brain damage

I stared at the songs written in his script, wondering if there was anything that he had chosen to put on there in particular. To me, it seemed more like a hodgepodge of songs that he had decided he wanted to put on a cassette for me, though. Of course, a lot of the songs I knew. Or, if I didn't know, I certainly had heard them at least once. Though, I was distracted when I watched Harry pick up his jacket, grabbing the note out of it quickly. I didn't know what the note was, but Harry soon showed me it was from the Winter Haven Police Department, my eyes narrowing.

"Is that from this morning?" I asked.

"Mhm."

"Is it ... did someone else die?"

He didn't answer right away, and it was all the clarification that I needed to understand what he wasn't immediately telling me now. Another victim. Another body. Another person left to die at the hands of a killer. How many more until the perpetrator was caught? Who else had to die like this before they found the person committing these heinous offenses?

"Someone else died, yeah," Harry nodded, pulling me from my thoughts. "I'm friends with a couple of the officers there, so I decided to bring them donuts this morning just to thank them for what they do for me. They gave me the news about the woman."

It wasn't what I liked to hear. I mean, he didn't say that I looked like the victim, but I could only expect as much. It would be number eight, I think. The eighth victim. All within a short amount of time. Sighing, I didn't even know what to think at this point. How could someone be dropping bodies like this and absolutely no one was noticing? It made no sense to me.

"I'm sure they're just in the wrong place at the wrong time," he told me quietly. "You know?"

"Yeah."

"It'll all be okay."

"Sure," I nodded. "And when you look like every single one, you let me know how you feel, yeah?"

He seemed to realize I wasn't exactly in the mood to talk about it. So, instead, I found myself heading to the living room to sit on the couch and think. I stared at the television that wasn't on, trying to comprehend my thoughts. It was difficult to think I looked like a murderer's choice in victim. I could be on his list. There was no rhyme or reason to the killings, just that they all looked the same. He could have had tabs on me. Maybe he wanted to wait to kill me. I wondered if the new victim had the same thoughts as me, and now she was dead.

"What's this about?" Harry asked, picking up a book.

"Oh, you don't have to—"

""I'll rub liniment into your poor bruised body. That will relax you.""

"Harry!" I shouted, getting up off the sofa.

"She heard his indrawn breath as she laid a hand lightly on him," he continued to read. "Both his eyes were open now and shining."

"Stop it!" I complained.

""You don't have any liniment..." Harry stated. "And I don't have any bruises."

I grabbed a hold of his shirt, Harry laughing when he held the book above his head for me to try and grab it. He was being ridiculous, acting like a small child with me and teasing me. I didn't want him to know that I was a sucker for romance novels that had some dirty parts to them, but he most definitely knew it now. He still was laughing, a yelp leaving my lips when he threw the book and quickly tossed me over his shoulder. I held on tightly, not even sure what he was doing. He was being rough with me, but in a way I knew was playful.

"Put me down right this second!"

"Why?" he asked. "Are your tits going to fall out of your shirt?"

I groaned loudly, vaguely recalling the last time I had said that in the bar when he was carrying me out of it. Whining, he walked through my kitchen, my arms still holding onto him tightly as I heard the fridge open.

"Are you seriously stopping for a snack? Put me down. I'm mad at you."

"I like knowing where you are. I'll keep you right here on my shoulder."

"Harry," I whined. "Isn't it nine? I have to take medicine."

"Medicine?" he asked, putting me down quickly. "What kind? Do you take them like vitamins?"

My eyes widened. "You know, stuff.  And I don't even know what that last but is supposed to mean."

Before I could get too far, he was grabbing my hand, pulling me back to him. I was standing in front of him now with my back against his front, the two of us looking into the fridge. He was always so indecisive about what he wanted, and while I normally would have happily made him a sandwich, there was no way he was getting that out of me this evening. Not even if he had brought me something when I forgot it was what I had asked him to do.

"Did you eat?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter."

"You're giving me attitude this evening, and I don't like it. Now let's try that again. Did you eat, doll?"

I grunted. "Yes. A while ago."

"Okay," he stated, grabbing the bread, lunch meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mayo out of the fridge. "Then you'll eat a sandwich."

"I'm not hungry," I told him as I watched him set the stuff on the counter.

"Then you'll have a bite of my sandwich."

"I told you I wanted this to just be a quick thing and I wasn't in the mood," I said to him. "Now you're making a sandwich?"

"Yeah, because I'm hungry," he shrugged.

I watched as he grabbed a plate from the cupboard, placing the kitchenware onto the counter. I was surprised when he grabbed a knife from the silverware drawer, knowing that I certainly was not going to make him food when I wanted to go to bed. Instead, I trudged off to my bedroom, grabbing my birth control that I needed to take. It didn't take me long to down it in the bathroom, before I headed back into the kitchen. He was grabbing chips from the pantry as I entered, Harry rubbing my head like a dog as I went to pass him.

"You would think as someone else with curly hair you wouldn't rub my head like that," I told him, snatching the unopened bag of chips from his hand and replacing them with the already opened ones.

"I'm sorry, doll," he murmured, setting the bag on the counter before gently fixing my hair. "There."

"Mhm."

"Take a bite, yeah?" he said to me.

I stared at him. "I'm not in the mood."

"I'm sure I could change that," he murmured lowly. "Get you all nice and warmed up. Rub liniment all over your body."

"Enough!" I complained. "Eat your stupid sandwich and then leave. I'm irritable today."

"Why's that, doll?"

"It's late."

"Not the latest night I've had with you," he stated, taking a bite of his sandwich and chewing a few times before swallowing so that he could speak again. "Just one bite. I won't bother you any longer about it."

I agreed, even though I hated to, taking a bite of the sandwich that he had made. It irritated me beyond belief that he was this obsessed with me eating, but I also knew it was better that he cared about me and whether or not I ate in comparison to my ex who never really checked. Not that I had ever been bad about eating, but knowing that Harry was willing to just double check that I was eating was also sweet—even if I didn't want it to be that much. Though, my thoughts dissipated when I realized he was already about halfway through the second half of his sandwich.

"Damn, you were hungry or what?" I asked.

"Yeah, maybe," he shrugged.

"Do you want another?"

"Oh now you want to make me a sandwich?" he asked.

"If it means you're closer to leaving, absolutely."

Before I could get anything else in, he was setting the half of the sandwich he had down on his plate. I swallowed hard, my face burning when he swallowed and grabbed my face. I didn't know what he was doing, but I watched his eyes, knowing that he was assessing me. His thumb was pressing into one side of my face while his fingers were grasping the other side, Harry shifting so that he could whisper in my ear.

"Give me attitude one more time, and you will be begging on your knees for me to leave you alone, doll," he stated, and I could tell by the low rasp of his voice he was not messing around. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-Yes."

"Very good," he muttered, pushing my face some before he let go of me. "I don't want another sandwich, you do too much for me. Thank you though."

And just like that he was back to being polite. I was staring at him like he had two heads, but he was simply finishing up his meal. It made zero sense to me that this man who was eating some chips and a sandwich he had made in my kitchen was also very intense and very intimidating. I had no idea how he could switch between the moods so flawlessly, but I also felt like that was what some of his charm was. He was outlandishly different to other men, and this was just one of those differences.

"Can I get your plate?" I asked once he finished.

"No."

I raised my eyebrows, watching as he walked his plate over to the sink. It confused me when I watched him wash it, and I still had no idea why he was also so adamant on cleaning up after himself. Not that I was against him doing it, I just thought it was weird to meet a man who was willing to clean up after himself. We worked on putting everything away, Harry brushing by me every now and again. But, the kitchen was quickly cleaned up. He shifted to the other side of the island, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at me. I never understood how he had such an aura of coolness. It was beyond crazy to me, especially since I was so used to guys who tried to be cool but didn't come off that way. Here, Harry was cool, but he wasn't even trying to be. It was just the way he was.

"So?" I asked.

"So what?"

"Are you staying again or something?" I asked him, my eyes widening when I realized what I had even said. "I-I mean, you don't have to or anything, I was just thinking about how when it starts getting late you like staying over, and I—"

"We've been angry this whole evening and now all of a sudden we're nervous? Are you feeling alright, doll?"

"I'm not nervous."

"And a liar!" he gasped. "God would be so unhappy."

"Stop," I complained. "I'm not nervous, I just talk too much sometimes."

He stared at me for a long moment, and I did the same with him. I could feel his eyes assessing me yet again, burning through my skin as I tried my best to focus on anything but him. Yet, my eyes were always drawn back to him. His arm that was filled with tattoos, the way his muscles bulged slightly with the position that his arms were in, how his hair fell into his eyes just barely. It was all so distracting, and I had no idea how he dealt with it.

"You know, I don't think I'd ever get tired of listening to you talk," he told me.

"I told you I'm not—"

"Interested if I have a girlfriend," he said, throwing his hands up in defense. "I know your rules. You stick by them, too, so I certainly won't tell you how much I want to kiss you anytime I'm with you or anything."

"Harry!" I yelled.

"What? You wouldn't want me to lie, would you?"

"Ugh, you're too much," I complained.

"Mhm, I bet you've said that before to some lucky guy."

"I'm going to hurt you."

"Thank God, I've been waiting for your hands to be all over me again."

Groaning loudly, I didn't know why he was being so forward this evening. Trudging off to my bedroom, I grabbed pajamas, hoping that if I changed he would get the point that I was going to bed. After a few minutes, I had changed in the bathroom, jumping when I saw the bed was turned down and Harry was sitting on the mattress already waiting for me. He was looking down at his arm that was filled with tattoos, and I found myself carefully climbing onto my mattress, sitting beside him with at least five inches between us.

"I'm not going to try anything," he laughed.

"How should I know? You said you wanted to kiss me."

He shrugged. "I respect you. Just because I want to get to know you a little better doesn't mean I won't let my brain have a field day while I remain incredibly composed."

The thought of him thinking of me in any way other than a friend still wasn't right. Not to mention that I was still trying to understand if what he had said to me in the kitchen was serious. I mean, there was no way this man wanted to kiss me. No way at all. I had to have misheard it. Shifting so I could lie down, I was surprised when he started playing with my hair like usual, but this time, he had shifted so he was lying down more with me.

"You're pushing it, Mr. Styles."

"God, I should have made you call me that. You would've been my good little girl."

I shook my head. "Stop saying that."

"Saying what?"

"God. You keep using his name in vain."

He sighed, apologizing softly to me for being disrespectful toward the lord. I could tell he meant the apology, but I was certain I would have to wait and see if he really did stop using the lord's name in vain. Harry kept playing with my hair, though his fingers traveled down my neck with one of the strands, my body shifting quickly because it tickled.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Nothing," he smiled.

"Be normal."

"You have a very tame version of me. I think if you saw normal me, you wouldn't let me within eighty feet of this house."

"Why? What's normal you like?"

He chuckled. "Well, I like to get what I want. I tend to break a good amount of rules with my friends. Um, I definitely do drugs quite often when I don't plan on seeing you, and I—"

He sounded like every basic bad boy out of a movie. Got what he wanted. Broke every rule. Did drugs. Yet he didn't do them when he planned on seeing me. It had thrown me off, the thought of him wanting to be sober when he saw me very interesting.

"Why don't you want to do drugs when you're seeing me?" I asked quietly.

Harry shrugged. "I act a lot different when I'm high. I just want a clear mind when I'm with you."

"Why?"

"Why not, doll?" he tried. "You get some rest, yeah? I'm going to let you sleep."

"Harry," I sighed, my hands grabbing ahold of his arm. "You're not going to stay?"

"You were genuinely mad at me earlier. You act like you don't like me, but are always begging me to stay. Can't you pick one, woman? I'm confused."

My cheeks flushed, and I quickly let go of him, telling him he could go. Turning over so that I was facing away from him, I felt the bed lift, and I also heard footsteps out of the room. I figured that was it, that he had left while he could. It made sense after all, especially since he had a girlfriend and just wanted to listen to my rules. However, after a few minutes, I heard my front door shut, followed by what sounded like a bag being opened. After a few more moments, there were soft footsteps, and I heard my bedroom door shut. The bed dipped, followed by the blankets being moved a whole bunch before he slipped into bed behind me, a soft grunt leaving his lips.

"You know you're impossible to read," he told me. "You're lucky I thought to bring a bag. I changed into shorts for you. All I do is try and be the best version of myself for you, and I—"

I turned over quickly, Harry appearing surprised when I went to hug him, but I quickly stopped. He was lying down beside me, his eyes wide as he stared at me, and I felt bad that I had even caused him the worry of thinking I was going to hug him without his permission. His breathing was even somewhat labored, and the fact that physical touch made him this stressed was not something I liked to think about. Not to mention that I was someone who really enjoyed physical touch so it was weird to think he was the exact opposite. Though he squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing still labored before he nodded his head.

"Do it quickly, doll."

I listened. I hugged him tightly for a few seconds before I pulled away, knowing that he did not like it one bit but was trying to allow it. His eyes stayed shut, and I felt like maybe I should have stopped and not hugged him at all. I mean, I was supposed to be angry with him. But I was surprised when I laid down and he wrapped one of his arms around my waist, his eyes still shut. We were both quiet, my face flushed with how close we were in my bed. My fingers played with his hair, gently brushing the strands away from his forehead.

"You'll stay?" I asked.

"I'd always pick to stay with you, Magdalina," he nodded.

"You don't have to. I'm supposed to be mad at you anyway."

"You were mad for a stupid reason," he mumbled.

"Sure. Because knowing that when you picked up you were in the middle of being intimate with your girlfriend is a stupid reason to be mad."

"I mean, yeah," he nodded.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. It's not like you want to be here."

"Stop," he told me. "I do want to be here. I like knowing you're safe. We both know this."

"Okay. Well, um, goodnight, I guess."

"You guess? I'm going out of my way to cuddle you before I go to sleep on the couch and you say goodnight, I guess? Lame."

"This is you cuddling?" I asked.

"Yeah?" he questioned. "Is this not enough?"

"I just ... you really do have issues with touch if you think this is cuddling."

"Yeah, because I would just jokingly tense up every time someone touched me for no reason. What a lie that would be to commit to."

Before I knew what I was saying, I found myself blurting out a question that I didn't even mean to say. "Well what is the reason?"

He didn't say anything. Actually, he was incredibly quiet after the nonstop back and forth that had taken place. I found myself swallowing hard, hoping that he wasn't going to be irritated with what I had said. After all, I had no idea why I had even said anything so silly. It wasn't my place to ask, yet there I was, pushing my limits like normal.

"You're lucky we're friends. I've had a guy ask me that before and just punched him in the face immediately after."

"I'm so glad you didn't punch me in the face," I laughed. "That would have been something."

"I wouldn't hurt you."

"Good. I sure hope not."

"I'm also not going to answer your question. It's not really something I've told anyone, actually. I just keep it to myself."

"That's not good, you know."

"I don't really care," he stated. "Just so you know, me not liking touch has absolutely nothing to do with you."

"I know," I nodded, playing with a few strands of his hair as he looked at me. "I appreciate you trying. I know I can be pretty touchy, but—"

"If you think this is touchy, you should see yourself drunk. It is absolute torture for me, but I always allow it because it's you."

He wasn't wrong. I had heard I was a very clingy drunk, and I knew he had taken care of me several times. Blushing, I looked away from his eyes, Harry beginning to tuck my hair behind my ear again. He cupped my face, my eyes meeting his quickly once more as he smiled.

"Sweet dreams, yeah?" he said. "Get some rest. Your brain is moving a million miles a minute. I can see it on your face."

"I'm sorry if I've ever done something that bothers you when you're taking care of me. I don't mean it at all. I'll try and be better next time."

"Doll, you have nothing to worry about. I wouldn't change drunk you for the world."

I laughed, but it was clear he was not changing his mind. As always, he was sweet. It was the strangest thing to see this person that was my friend show how much he cared for me. I found myself trying to keep space between us even though his arm was around me, wishing to give him his space and keep him comfortable. I didn't want to push him to do anything he didn't want, especially knowing he hated anything like this. Of course, he was the one to wrap his arm around me, but I realized now that maybe, just maybe, he was willing to try and warm up to someone. And, crazily enough, that someone was me.