Dust Bones [Harry Styles]

015

       listen to the song on the side. It is beautiful for this chapter and Harry's character.

        Gentle as tears. Bright as the souls of two lovers. Yet, so rough and dreadful. His posture and his gracefulness were two equally beautiful things like these. The form of his complexion, the texture and pigmentation of his skin. He was death and life, in two ways that mixed so effortlessly they seemed unrealistic. 

        And I reminded myself this while I watched him from a window. In the bright sun, he strained himself and pushed his muscles to physically impressive limits. Push-ups, sit-ups, laps and laps around the house. He practiced his shooting range, too. The sweat trickled down his tanning skin, his tattoos looking like they danced in the light. He was so beautiful, a kind of perfection that hurt to see it get ruined by his anger. 

        "I wonder about him, too." Zayn spoke behind me. I was startled immediately, embarrassed to be caught watching him. His hazel brown eyes glistened with amusement, a perfect smile sculpted so visibly perfect on his face. He had a flawless face.

        I parted my lips to speak, but I couldn't find the strength in my voice. 

        Zayn crossed his arms over his chest alike to me, standing beside me while he stared at Harry through the clear glass. "He's depressed inside, you know. As his friend of six years...I still don't know a single thing about his life before it all happened." 

        I peeked at Harry before looking back at Zayn. "Do you remember when he started working for my father?"

        He nodded slowly. "Yes. He showed up here in a school uniform. All dirty and cut up. He looked like he just went through Hell and back. At only thirteen, he looked like he's seen all the fear and terror in world and swallowed it all down. He scared me at first, honestly," Zayn chuckled. 

        My eyebrows furrowed a little, gazing at Zayn with interest. "He's never showed any sort of emotion?" 

        Zayn gazed up at me. "I would stay away, Catalina. Listen to him. Hear his concern rather than his anger. When he yells at you to stop asking questions, he's yelling out of worry. There is a lot of gravel burying his emotion with anger." 

        "But, there's just so much I need to know," I said, shaking my head. "I'm afraid I'm so --"

        "No. Okay? As someone who's known him for six years, don't run to the end of the tunnel. Because there is no end. There is no light. It's cold and a torturous journey. Endless, as a matter of a fact. I know it's tempting to know. I see the way you look at him. But he's devoted to forget and never feel again. I know it sounds stupid to you, that it sounds like he needs therapy. But sometimes..." he sighed. 

        "Sometimes people aren't meant to be saved."

        My heart felt like it was in my throat. Symptoms of sympathy. "He's so alone...," I trailed off softly. "He wants to be saved. It's just no one's tried hard enough."

        "Trust me, I've tried. Right now, you see him working out his body until he can't feel anything? It's because of you," Zayn said lowly.

        I raised my eyebrows. "Because of me?"

        "You make him feel something. I don't know what it is, but since he's seen you he's been doing this for days. Working out until he can barely stand. Forcing himself. In his mind, he's all thoughts and memories and pain. In that heart of his, he's all blood, death, and anger. He worries me sometimes. He is so alone because he chooses to be." He said quietly.