Traitor- Harry Styles au

THREE

"Well he's a handsome man, Reagan must have been lucky.", Uncle Luke says as y/n shows him the photo of Harry and tells him the story. y/n shared everything with Uncle Luke. Sania was her best friend, but she still didn't share some things with her that she would with Uncle Luke.

"Well she's dead.", y/n mumbles. "What do you think?"

"This man must be important.", Uncle Luke says, and y/n nods. "If they're willing to pay so much just in return for his memory."

"What if he doesn't want to remember Uncle Luke?", y/n asks softly. "Reagen died. That must have scarred him deeply. Maybe there's something more to it. Maybe someone attacked them and he couldn't save her. He must be in pain, that's why his mind is shutting it all off."

"Don't get personal, darling.", Uncle Luke advises. "We don't know what kind of a man Harry was, so don't feel for him. Your job is just to befriend him and make him remember."

"I'm too curious to let this go now.", y/n says. "I only read about mafias in novels! I told Sania they were real."

"Mafia?", Uncle Luke laughs. "You confirmed they're mafia?"

"Of course. Business, she said. So secretive! You had to see the building and all the men.", y/n laughs too. "You're right, I won't get personal. I just need the money. Maybe we can get out of this town sooner than we thought, Uncle Luke."

Her uncle smiles, patting her hand as he closes her eyes. "Reena said she'll come over for dinner."

y/n's smile froze as she hears that. Reena was Uncle Luke's daughter, she had died in a fire. She hates when the disease does this. Uncle Luke had early onset Alzheimer's, so it wasn't as bad as him not being able to recognize her. But she still hated it.

"I'll make her favorite pasta.", y/n whispers, fluffing his pillow. "You get some rest, Uncle Luke. I love you."

She had to get him the best care. He took care of her all her life. She took the card, and called Romania.

"Miss y/l/n, good to hear from you.", Romania's voice says.

"I'll do it.", y/n said before she could change her mind. "I'll bring his memories back."

___________________________________________

She decided to go with the classic method of meeting first. Go out for drinks. y/n wasn't a big drinker, most of the time. She wasn't going to drink too much today, she wanted to be sober enough to remember everything she got out of the man.

Romania sent her the details of the hospital in which Harry worked, and told her that he goes to the bar down the street after his working hours sometimes. y/n hoped this would be one day like that, as she set out to the bar. y/n wore a chrome yellow fluffy, silky top along with her jeans and heels. She let her hair out.

She looked around the bar as she entered, not spotting her target. She decided to wait.

"What would you like, ma'am? New here?", the bartender smiles at her.

"Uh yes, first time here." She skims through the names of the drinks.

"First drink on the house. I'll get you our special cocktail?", he asks.

"Okay!"

Anything on the house sounded amazing.

"I'll be right back.", he winks at her and goes away. y/n turned on her chair to continue scanning the crowd. The bartender was cute, but she had stuff to do.

Her drink came faster than Harry, and she was disappointed he wouldn't come to the bar that night when she finally saw him.

The photo didn't do justice. Harry Styles stood tall, six feet two at least, she thought. His stubble had grown out, and his hair had curls peeking out. Sharp cheekbones that could slice through skin and strong shoulders that hid beneath his light blue shirt.

He appeared stressed as he ran a hand through his hair, and sat on the empty chair a few seats away from her. "Usual.", he nodded at the bartender, who got to making his drink right away. y/n watched him roll his shirt sleeves back, and sit with his head on his hands. He must have had a rough day.

Then he lifted his head up suddenly and looked straight at her, like he knew she had been watching him. Their eyes connected for a second, before he looked away.

y/n felt a shiver up her spine.

That was close, y/n breathed as she sipped the concoction.

She waited until he had drowned a drink, of what looked like whiskey, before she made her move.

She gave him her best smile as she took the seat next to him. "Hi, rough day?"

He didn't spare her a look, but he grunted in reply.

Very polite.

"I had a rough day too.", y/n goes on. "Being an artist isn't easy. Sometimes it's hard to get into the creative head space. I had some decisions to make today, and that interfered with my work."

"Artist?", his voice was smooth and deep.

"Yes. I paint.", she answers. "What do you do?"

"ER Doctor.", he looks at her with those eyes looking like they were brimming a storm behind them. "I like art."

"You do? You should come to the cafe sometime, then.", y/n says, treading on careful steps.

"I don't get time to take a stroll into a cafe.", Harry scoffs, taking a big gulp of his drink.

"Your job is difficult.", y/n agrees. "Do you like being a doctor?"

Harry tilts his head to study her. "Yes."

y/n waited for him to say something more, but he didn't. Great. He does love talking.

"What do you like about art?", she asks. That, she could talk about.

"The colors.", he answers, looking away from her again. "They have a hidden meaning, most of the time. The artist might not even have an idea when they start, but it turns out beautiful when they're done. Like they gave life to it."

That was the most he had told her since they started talking, and Stella smiled at his description. "I have a small studio too, you should stop by when you have time, Doctor-"

"Turner.", he completes. "Harry Turner."

Either he changed his last name, or he doesn't remember. y/n offers her hand to shake. "y/n, y/l/n."

He nods, and she feels the rough callouses of his fingers as it brushes hers. His hand was warm, and she liked the feel of it on hers. It made her feel safe. Why did it make her feel like that? Why did she feel like it was a familiar hand?