HARRY E. STYLES
May, 2020

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Stirring my coffee to wake me up, the strong scent made Wesley crawl out of his hiding, too. Dressed in his robe, he rubbed his eyes and sat down at the table with his bed hair. He looked like shit. Without even needing to hear him say anything, a mug of coffee was before him with the milk and sugar, a spoon on the side.

Not too long after him, a much happier face joined us in the kitchen. Wearing my shirt and pyjama bottoms that belonged to her, I couldn't help but smile as Griffin stumbled into the kitchen with the same messy bed hair that Wesley rocked. Her glasses sat on her nose and continued sliding down until she pushed it back up with her index finger.

"What kept you up at night?" Griffin snickered as she nudged Wesley, the man groaning at the unwanted touch.

"Wish I could say it was you two but he's either shit in bed or you're a pro at keeping quiet," he gave the response. I was about to say something when Griffin started laughing, clearly finding it amusing. Wes continued. "It's honestly nothing interesting. Just work."

"Don't you work for a big corporation?" she asked him with furrowed brows.

"Yeah... had a presentation to get done. Deadline was seven, this morning," he muttered.

"Shouldn't have lied on the application, pal," I made the side comment, earning a middle finger from my good friend. He put down he had great time management but I suppose he was selling himself out lately with how last minute he can be.

He told me to shut the fuck up then picked up his coffee and went back to his room, slamming the door behind him. He didn't need to leave for another two hours since he had the morning off. Not long after he left the kitchen, Griffin got up from the table and walked over to me, her arms wrapped around my waist and her cheek pressed against my back.

"Are you working today?" she asked me quietly, her fingers drawing little circles on my stomach, over the material of my shirt.

"Yeah. Dinner shift," I told her. "You?"

"No... I'm taking a me day," she mumbled, pulling away from me. It gave me the chance to turn around and face her, bringing my mug closer to my lips to drink my coffee. "I've been feeling really disconnected from everyone. Very... meh. Just don't really know what to do, you know?"

"Wanna talk?" I wondered. Although Griffin shrugged, making me think she wasn't really bothered whether we did or not, the way she glanced up at me was enough to know that she liked the idea. "Might help you feel a little better."

"I don't want to trouble you with it," she shook her head, down playing her emotions. I frowned as she looked away from me, almost feeling hurt that she thought she'd trouble me by opening up.

"Griffin," I called her name. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I thought you'd be troubling me. I want you to talk to me."

"That's true... it's probably a little early, though—when do you start work?"

"Four. We have a bit of time," I told her, bringing my hand closer to her cheek. Gently, I brushed the back of my fingers over her skin, gaining a little smile from her as she stepped closer and hugged me again. Placing down my mug on the side, I embraced her.

"Remember when I dragged you to the cinema to watch Insurgent with me?" she chuckled, looking up at me. Her chin rested on my chest and she continued to grin, the memory floating in both of our minds. My hands held the side of her head, my fingers laced through her soft locks. It took me a moment to realise she brought up the memory because of what I said—the male character in those movies was called Four.

"How could I forget that?" I asked. "I had to listen to you swoon for hours. Theo James this, Theo James that."

"And?" she stood back, putting her hair up in a bun, using the bobble around her wrist. "He deserves to get the praise. Leave my boyfriend alone."

"Boyfriend, huh?" I reached for my mug to drink my coffee. "Have you seen the last one?"

"Pft, 'course," she said. "Have you?"

"Embarrassingly enough, yes," she chuckled as I answered, making me roll my eyes. Funnily enough, it came out the following year, when me and my friends went on our gap year. All three of us went to the cinema in Italy that March and we sat through it. The ending was quite shit in my opinion, it left me unsatisfied.

"Shut up," she pushed me a little, her eyes sparkling as she learnt something new. "How come?"

"Dunno..."

"Oh, come on," she whined. "Tell me. Did you watch it because you missed me? I sure as hell missed you and it's so embarrassing. I imagined you were sitting next to me."

"Fucking saddo," my head buckled back as my laughter filled the kitchen, teasing Griffin for what she said. I heard her growl then felt a sharp pinch in my stomach. "Ouch!"

"Take that back now."

"No," I bickered.

"I'm never telling you anything ever again."

"I'll get it out of you," I shrugged. "Now, what do you want for breakfast? I'm thinking eggs and there's some salmon from yesterday that didn't get used."

"Yes, sounds good," she nodded. "I'll just be here, watching you move around where you belong."

"Funny, you."

"I know," she smiled at me sweetly.

Shaking my head, my coffee mug sat back down onto the table. Griffin decided to be a pain in the ass as I got a couple of things ready. She ended up standing by me as I made the salmon then continued to watch and comment as the egg hit the pan. She told me I was supposed to season it but she was wrong. Seasoning the egg, especially salting it beforehand, can break up the egg and turn it watery. Therefore, seasoning comes at the very end. Plus, often times, I add a bit of milk or cream to it to make it fluffier so if I were to salt it, it would mess up the whole meal. Not to mention, there are some picky customers who like to salt their food themselves.

Once Griffin got all of her questions answered and all of her comments corrected, we sat down to eat. It was fun to see her quiet down as she learned more. Honestly, it was refreshing that she didn't argue with me on things, instead, she looked at me like she was impressed. Her lips shaped little 'o's and she kept on nodding. It brought back memories from the time we first talked about food and she seemed genuinely amazed by the stuff I told her about it.

Griffin pushed her stomach out after she finished, rolling up my shirt that she wore as she patted the round belly. She fooled around about how our baby was growing so big, making me roll my eyes at the shitty joke. Every time she brought up the subject, my heart dropped and sweat started building up around my hairline. The thought of me becoming a dad was fucking terrifying.

Eventually, Wes left for work. At that point, we were still sitting at the table, just talking about random things. We both needed that time to just be in each other's company, seeing that as of late, we didn't have the chance to be together. It was almost like we wanted to put what happened behind us so badly, that we were prepared to pay the price which was not being with the other for an extended amount of time.

"So..."

Turning my attention to Griffin, I locked my phone and placed it on the table, the screen facing down. I folded my arms together and leaned on my elbows, nibbling on my bottom lip whilst my teeth dragged back the skin.

"I don't know where to start," a breathless laugh erupted from her chest as she shook her head, toying with the fork that sat on her plate.

"Take your time."

"I've not been sleeping well," she spoke. Feeling surprised by the revelation, thoughts began to form in my head. Knowing that she's been restless, made me want to know more—the reason behind it. "After Devotion got hit, my focus turned to you. I told you that I felt responsible for what happened because it was at my work, on my birthday and I invited you and everyone else there. That hasn't changed," she shook her head, keeping her focus on the cutlery before her. "When you spent some time at mine, it gave me the comfort of knowing you were okay and safe. Granted, you weren't sleeping much but I could keep an eye on you. It helped with my guilt."

Clearing my throat, it felt like a good time to reassure her. "Although I cannot speak for anyone but myself, I never once blamed you for it. Yes, it happened at your work, on your birthday and you invited me there, but you weren't the one who ordered those people there. You didn't want them to ruin the place, to hurt people and rob you. I understand you feel responsible but like you told me at the hospital, you can't keep thinking of all the things that could've been done differently because it'll hurt you more. I think... even though you've done nothing wrong, I think it's time you forgive yourself."

"Yeah... I think so, too," she mumbled.

"And I think I need to thank you for being there for me," I added. That's when Griffin whipped her head up as though she'd been burned and the feeling brought her back to life. A confused expression dressed her features. "I handled everything wrong. I let you put all your effort and energy into me and it wasn't something that you got in return. You saved my life that night—on multiple occasion."

"Harry..."

"No, I'm serious," my posture changed as I leaned back on my chair. Griffin felt almost uncomfortable at the thought of me trying to show my gratitude for what happened. To me, it wasn't an everyday thing to have someone push me out of the way before a bullet pierces through my skin. Seeing someone handle a deadly weapon was one thing, to know that they used it to save you is an entirely different one. "I can't even imagine how things have been affecting you since that night. I'm really grateful for it and I want you to know. So, thank you."

"You say that like I would've let you die," she sighed. "But I'm going to accept that thank you because we'll never get to the bottom of everything if we bicker over it."

"Good. You should."

She chuckled, shaking her head.

"Well, like I said, I haven't been sleeping well. When you were staying over, I had an excuse for it since it felt like my responsibility to make sure you were okay. But then you started working again and sleeping at your place and I no longer had an excuse to not sleep," taking her time to translate her thoughts into words, she had my full attention. Hearing how she felt, made me feel less like an outsider because essentially, we dealt with similar issues. "I, uhm, I'm not sure how to understand what I did... I mean, I know that it was for the better and I don't necessarily regret it because if I did, then that means I would've rather let that man live than us. Does that make me a bad person?"

"No," I said right away. I did not think it made her a bad person. She had no evil intentions but the people she hurt, did. Her eyes reflected how lost she felt, she couldn't understand what she was feeling and it clearly bothered her.

"What if I told you that being in control of the situation like that, made me feel powerful and if I had to do it again, I would?" she wondered out loud. Thinking for a short second, it started to make sense to me that she was trying to paint herself as the bad guy in this situation. "What if I told you that the reason why I don't sleep is because I dream of killing those people over and over again, smiling at them as they collapse before me? What if I told you that in my dream, I kill everyone in the club, including you, and I have no regrets? Sure, it leaves me sweating and jolting out of bed but I'm not scared of who I see in those dreams. It almost feels natural to me to do what I did."

She left me speechless. I was at loss for words. Not because she scared me but because she was so open about this. Earlier, when she said she wanted to talk, it didn't occur to me that it could be about something like this.

"That's what scares me—the fact that I'm so fucking okay with it," she laughed, staring ahead of herself.

"Don't take this the wrong way but, um, I don't know what to say," I admitted, itching the back of my neck as a gentle chuckle pressed through my words. Leaning on the kitchen table, my fingers intertwined. "Obviously, the way we both experienced that night is different. That means our trauma will hit differently therefore dealing with it will be different, too. Maybe you should go see a therapist?"

"Fuck off," she laughed, pushing her head back then groaning as she hid her face in her palms. Saying that she should go see a professional was a joke on the surface but an actual advice below it. "I'm so confused. Like, killing people shouldn't be fun and it isn't and that's not what I'm saying. The way dream-me feels is not how real-life-me felt when I fired the gun on my birthday," she explained with her hands, elbows pushed into the table. She moved one hand then the other as she placed herself in the palm of her hands, moving her head to look at each one as she spoke.

"Well, I'd fucking hope so."

"How do you feel? I mean, you've told me it was overwhelming and your world feels like it's upside down—but how are you sleeping? Are you sleeping at all?" she bombarded me with questions. "Make me feel like I'm not the only insane person here, please."

"I don't sleep much... I slept last night but that was because you tired me out," I smirked, making her roll her eyes at me. "I tend to nod off and then pass out for half an hour, an hour tops before... everything replays in my dream and then I'm up. I take a shower and try to go back to sleep but it doesn't really work right away. Lately, I've been reading because it makes me sleepy."

"Okay, you're fucked, too," she sighed, nodding. "Good to know."

She didn't even know half of it. She had no idea that the car that followed me and the incident with the man who I followed, continued to make my life harder. My nightmares didn't only consist of what happened at Devotion, but all those other things, too. Then, there was my theory that somehow, all of those things interconnected.

But how was I meant to tell Griffin?

How could I tell her that I spied on her? Pretty sure she'd tell me to get lost and would never look my way again. Hell, I know I would do that.

"What is it?" she asked me, toneless. Snapping my neck in her direction, my mouth wanted to open to wash off all the words that built up on the tip of my tongue. Wanting nothing more than to share my burden with her, it still felt like an unwise step to take. "C'mon... I just told you that I enjoyed murdering you in my dream. Whatever you have to say, cannot be as bad as that."

"I don't know about that..."

"You've got me curious now," she leaned on the table, holding her head up with her fist. Glancing at her there, knowing that she was open to talk about anything should've made me feel better.

"Okay... I didn't want to talk about this because pushing it down and forgetting about it, seemed to be the best coping mechanism for this," I began to explain and defend myself before she even knew anything. "I thought that maybe, if I pretend like it never happened, I'd be able to get over it faster. I'm not sure that's the case."

"Right."

"So, remember when I, uh, when I had that panic attack?" not really wanting an answer, it was still nice to see her nodding. It showed she was paying attention. Although that made me slightly nervous, I also liked the thought of her caring enough to listen. "Well, I was leaving work that day and I was going to go home but I noticed that someone was following me. It was weird because it never happened to me before and stories like that only get told to me so living it was kind of an out of body experience..."

"I can see how that would be really overwhelming," she spoke with empathy. She was about to reach out and hold my hand but she glanced at me quickly and back down, refusing at the last second. Swallowing harshly, my finger itched my temple because it felt weird to tell Griffin about this. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure," I sighed. "For a moment, it was in my head to tell you—on the day it happened. But you looked a little annoyed after you spoke to, um, Rachel so, I didn't want to add to your troubles."

"Yeah, we had a petty conversation as we usually do," she chuckled, remembering back to it. That woman still intimidated me. There was something about her ocean blue eyes and coal black hair that made my skin crawl. She just seemed like the type of person who'd know how to make me cry. "You told me at the park that night that you felt as though nothing has changed between us. Then, I told you that I had no idea where I stood because so much has happened in the time we spent apart, right?"

"Mhm."

"You also said that I can always come to you because you'd be there to listen..." she continued. "So, I just want you to know that you can talk to me about anything you want. I know that's easier said than done but you should know that the offer is always on the table."

She looked unsure for a second. Yet, as though she found reassurance in my eyes, her facial expression has changed, turning into a more confident one.

"The same goes for you," the reminder tasted familiar on my tongue. "What I've learnt from my past relationship is that talking solves issues. Keeping silent only makes them worse."

"Yeah?" she smiled. "Who gave you that splendid advice?"

"Hmm... some girl I used to fancy when I was at university."

"Well, I have to agree with her," she spoke, knowing well that it was her advice. She told me communication was the key to a successful relationship. It was such a basic thing and she shouldn't have had to remind me of it but when she did, it genuinely opened my eyes.

"I promised myself that if I ever got the chance to be with her, I'd be ready to discuss anything and everything. She seemed to be really persistent with the idea of communication," I continued to speak, moving onto a much lighter matter. Everything we shared moments ago, was quite heavy and felt fragile. "I guess I've been working on that skill of mine in the meantime."

"Well, that's good to hear," she hummed. "Now... what do you say, we talk about something that's been brought to my attention?"

Oh, fuck.