Crown of Thorns

**keep in mind the author is Aussie so she does degrees celceus, no Fahrenheit, 30 degrees is bloody hot**




The sound of Harry's motorbike hums underneath me. My thighs are clamped around his back and my arms circled around his waist. Warm wind whips at my clothes as we speed past street lights and cars.
I breathe in deeply the fresh air, glad to get out of that small and loud, smoky place. It was that hard to breathe and claustrophobic in there that when I was flying out of the house after Harry, I was literally holding down the urge to vomit up everything that I ate or drank before.
My arms tighten self consciously around Harry's waist as I remember James' glare on me after Harry and him fought. A look that promised something bad. Something very, very bad. I give Harry a strong squeeze without meaning to and then I freeze when I realise.
"You okay?" His voice shouts over the hum of his bike, obviously he noticed.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a chill," I quickly lie. Since when have I looked to Harry for any means of comfort?
"Really?" He asks, "It's like 30 degrees."
"Shut up Harry!" I laugh and find myself surprised to do so. And when have I ever laughed with Harry before? I frown strangely at my own actions.
I shake it off as post nerves from the party. It would explain the frantic heartbeat and the incredible urge to giggle hysterically at everything Harry says and does.
Wait, no. I mean just giggle hysterically at things. Like funny things- not involving Harry. God, shut up Mia.
I keep myself silent for the rest of the trip. Not wanting to say anything stupid in this weird mood that I'm in.
Harry slows down his bike down beside the flat drive way of my house. Zayn and Louis don't slow as they come in behind us. They keep heading on past us and through the big opened gates to Harry's massive mansion.
I can't help the feeling of sadness that rises in my gut as I clamber off Harry's motorbike and take off the helmet. I don't want to leave. I watch him as he watches me. He leans back a bit in his seat, his hand closest to me dropping from the handle to rest on his jean cladded knee.
Under the dim streetlamp light his green eyes sparkle and he's smiling like he's trying to hide an even bigger one. Then I realise that we're exactly where we were last Friday night when I kissed him- and I think Harry knows this.
I blush furiously, shoving his helmet back at him roughly and then step back, I have something to say. "Harry, look I'm sorry for intruding on your personal life the other day," I look down at my cuffed shoes, "I didn't mean to offend you, I was only concerned for Max's well being."
I look back up at him to see him smile briefly and nod. I inwardly sigh in relief. I get my phone out to check the time and groan when I see it. It's only 10:30. I was at the party for one and a half hours.
"What?" Harry asks.
"It's ten thirty," I tell him, putting my phone back away, "if I walk in home now, mum's gonna laugh." I don't think he understands my mum and my relationship.
She believes I've got more of dad in me than her. I'm always trying to do the right thing. Doing my homework and trying to be responsible. Even though I'm not always good at it.
Trying to prove to her that I'm otherwise is daily torture.
I don't like being thought of as a goody two shoes who does everything she's told and gets everything she wants, though it may be somewhat true. I know that I'm not one of those kids. So I'm trying to get that image of myself out of mums head. I don't want to go home now at 10:30.
But that's not the main reason. I'm not in the mood to go home and to be quiet whilst locked up in my room. I want to get out and enjoy myself. For once.
"Hey Harry," I start, trying to build up enough courage to say the next part, "do you reckon I could, um, hang with you guys for a while? Just until it's late enough for me to head back?"
I'm biting on my lip, waiting for him to answer.
Harry tilts his head slightly to the side in question. Most likely wondering why I would purposely want spend more time with him and the others. As far as he knows, I hate them all.
Wow that's harsh, a small voice whispers to me. I start to feel bad because I have in fact, treated Harry like shit. Wait no, that's cause he was being a dick to me. Wait...
Jesus I need to get my head in. What's wrong with me tonight?
"Yeah. You can come in, we're not doing much," Harry finally says, his green gaze tearing me from my confused thoughts. He cuts the engine off his bike and swings off. He and I walk to his house in silence, him pushing his motorbike along and me twisting and wringing my fingers nervously.
The large automatic gates shut behind us and I awkwardly waddle after Harry as he enters an opened garage off to the side off the big house.
The garage is bright and spacious. It looks like it can fit at least three cars in it, but the only car inside is Harry's black Lamborghini. Four other deadly and expensive looking motorbikes are parked in the garage, shining dangerously under the fluorescent lighting.
Harry stops his vehicle next to another's and walks towards the wooden bench cluttered and filled with tools and hammers and other working things that I have a lack of knowledge about. He leans over the bench to press a button on the wall and the garage doors hum to life, shutting slowly behind me. Harry then leaps up the steps and passes through a side door with me stumbling after him.
The door leads to inside the big house. Shining polished floors and clean furniture fill up the opened rooms that we pass. So many stairwells and corridors, the house is fucking huge.
Harry takes me into a massive living room where the others are in. Niall, Louis, Zayn, Liam and even little Max. The chef, Maurice is no where to be found, thank God. The room is mainly white with fluffy carpets and long leather couches. Golden lights lit up the room and black plasma screens reflect them dimly.
"Mia!" Max shouts when he sees me coming into the room. He jumps up from his lying position on the carpet with the others and bolts towards me, jumping and slamming into my stomach head first. I stumble back with a squawk of surprise as Max hugs my middle tightly.
"H-hey," I greet him breathlessly. The others on the ground wave and slur out loud hellos. I then notice the amount of alcohol on the ground in front of them and in their hands. Their cheeks are red and they all look very comfortable in their drunken state.
Look like it's gonna be one of those nights then.
Max lets go of my waist and hurries back to his superhero Mr. Man who lays forlorn on the ground. Harry and I sit down next to the guys in their small circle. I wonder what the hell helped me decide that it would be a good idea to come here tonight.
"Want some?" Niall slurs, holding up his half empty bottle of tequila and putting it inches away from my face.
"No, I'm good," I reply weakly. Lord if I mange to make it through tonight...
"What do you want?" Harry asks me as Niall and the others begin to talk about something that I cant understand due to the fact that they're all slurring concessively. I look at him. He's sitting next to me, his head leaning against the couch behind him, his brown curls spilling everywhere, his green eyes twinkling at me.
I look to the pile of glass bottles filled with alcohol on the ground in front of me, then back to him, "Oh, none for me."
Harry tries to hide a smile, probably finding it amusing that I'm not going to drink with him around. And considering the jittery mood that I'm at the moment, it's probably a wise decision on my behalf.
"Do you want some tea then?" Harry asks me in a soft voice and I smile and nod. Tea sounds amazing right now.
He stands up and walks out the door and for a second I'm flattered because Harry Styles is about to make me tea, and then that second passes and I'm pissed because he left me alone with these dickheads.
I hug my knees to my chest and watch as everyone laughs at Niall because he's tipping pure vodka down Zayn's throat. Zayn starts coughing it back up and liquid goes flying everywhere, settling into the carpet and probably ruining it forever.
"Wanna go?" Niall waves the bottle in my direction and I shake my head with a terrified smile on my face. Max crawls over next to me and starts walking Mr. Man up and down my arm. I smile at him when I notice he's off in his own world. His mouths words under his breath, his blue eyes staring at the action figure.
I turn my head when Zayn shrieks all girly and he pulls a stash of coloured hardback books from out behind the tv. Everyone else screams hysterically as they all tear into them.
"Ohmygod, it's wittle Harry and Mia!" Someone screams as they all huddle around the book. I fly forward out of sitting position to look.
The hardback books are photo albums. Old and fragile photo albums. I slap Zayn's fingers away from tearing the pages out and I lean over to look. There we were, out in Harry's backyard.
We're both so small, but yet Harry's taller than me. An uncontrollable mop of curly hair covering his eyes. His chin is tilted up so he can see the camera under his hair, a wide toothy grin is on his face. I'm standing next to him, grubby small fingers raised in a energetic wave, my eyes beaming.
On the next page Harry's frowning down at me, a ball in his hands. I'm wailing, tears streaking down my face. I blush as I look at myself, I probably had fallen over or something.
"God, you were so fat," Niall jokes and I scoff in mock offence. How long have these pictures been here for?
"What are you looking at?" Harry's voice comes from behind us in the doorway. I look at him and beam, "old pictures of us."
Harry frowns in confusion and sets the two steaming cup of tea of the coffee table and moves in beside me. I flick over the next page to a younger me attacking a younger Harry with flying fists.
"Oh my god," I moan and then laugh at younger Harry's irritated face. Harry laughs also and I turn the page.
"Daw, aren't you kids adorable?" Niall says in a sarcastic sweet voice. It's a picture of Harry and I down at the docks. We're both holding an ice cream each and we're sitting on the wooden dock's edge, our feet dangling over the blue waves. We're both smiling, squinting in the bright sunlight.
I frown at the picture. Why am I sitting there, so close to the water without looking uncomfortable or stressed? I've always hated water, ever since I can remember I've loathed swimming and all things aquatic except showering. I don't even like having baths. So why am I sitting so near to the waves?
"That's odd," I say out loud.
"What is?" Harry asks. By now the others have grown bored of the photos. They've gone back to taking vodka shots and singing Taylor Swift at the top of their lungs. It's just Harry and I looking at the pictures.
"I don't normally like going near water," I explain, looking up at him. Harry nods like he already knows this.
"Well that'd make sense."
"What'd make sense?" I ask, confusion causing my brow to furrow. Harry looks at me now, unsureness in his eyes.
"Because you almost drowned," he tells me dead serious. I flinch back, what did he just say? I shake my head, "I never drowned."
Now he looks at me like I should already know what he's talking about, "You almost drowned," he corrects me, "don't you remember? That day at the docks," he points to the picture and I look down, "mum, dad and I took you down and we went and got icecream. You slipped and fell in when no one was looking."
I watch him as he tells me, his eyes seem to cloud over like he really is remembering that this happened. And if it did really did happen, why don't I remember?
"You were always doing that, falling over nothing," Harry smiles faintly, "dad jumped after you when we heard your scream. The water was quite deep and by the time we figured out that you fell in, we were all sure you'd drowned already."
My mouth is wide open and so are my eyes. I'm staring at him.
"When dad hauled you up onto the dock you were unconscious. There was blood everywhere. You knocked your head on something on the way down. You've got a scar the right side of your head on your temple where you hit it." Harry raises his hand to his temple as he explains.
My blood chills, I do have a scar there. My hand flies up to brush the old mark on my head. Mum said I got it when I hit my head when I was little. So what, she's hiding this from me? Why? I have never felt so uncertain in my life. If this really happened why don't I remember it? Mum and dad have never talked to me about it also, it's like it never happened.
I'm so confused.
"I do have a scar there." I lift my hair up to show him the thin but bold line imprinted into my skull. Harry's gaze darkens when he sees my scar. I drop my hands and my hair falls back over the mark. I look down at the picture and at our smiling faces. I flip the next page but they are no more photos. I turn the next page and the next only to find more blank pages.
"Why are there no more pictures?" I close the large book with a snap. I pick up another album to find that it's dated a year before this one. I pick up another and finds it's also dated earlier. The album of Harry and I down at the docks was the latest album. There are no more pictures taken after I fell in.
"When you were in hospital was when we left. You don't remember me telling you goodbye when you were in your hospital room? You were still in the bed," Harry trails off at my utterly shocked look.
"I remember after you said goodbye," I tell him numbly, "I remember because I cried for weeks. I don't remember you actually saying goodbye..." I am so utterly confused and shocked. How could have I not have remembered any of this? How could have I lived without knowing why in fact I'm afraid of water for.
"What's up with her?" I hear Louis ask Harry. I probably look like an idiot, my mouth wide open and my hands rubbing my forehead frantically in a stressed manner.
Harry shrugs next to me. "Childhood trauma." He reaches up and hands me a warm cup of tea.
"Oh yeah?" Louis leans forward and grips my cup over my hands and begins pouring liquid out of a long green bottle into my tea. "I've got something for that."
"Ah, what is that?" I ask wearily.
"Calvados, it's made from apples in France. You'll like it," Louis reassures me and I'm feeling too numb to argue.
"Shit, poured too much in," Louis mutters and lifts the bottle up and screws the lid back on, "drink up." He grins at me when I timidly sip at the drink. Like he said I would, I like it. It tastes like apples and pears, it also tastes a bit too strong.
I sit there in silence for a while as I watch Harry and his friends drink. Max disappears around midnight but by then I had already lost track of time. With my empty cup of tea set aside, I'm giggling uncontrollably at everything that the guys say and the shit they're saying isn't even that funny.
Louis' telling dad jokes and Zayn and Niall are pretending to make out. Liam is just chuckling at everything like me only he's a little bit more mellow, whereas I'm laughing hysterically.
Harry's sitting there in his moody self, glaring at everyone who talks to me... Which is all of them. They seem to be a bit more nicer to me, probably happy that a girl is laughing at everything they're saying.
God my head hurts, my thoughts moan. My sight's spinning and I can't concentrate on anything except laughing and laughing and laughing.
"Harry, stop being such a moody prick," Zayn shouts at Harry and I perk up.
"I know!" I gush and look at Harry with wide eyes, "you are such a dick." My words are all breathy and high pitched. Harry glares at me and I giggle and then lean forward, "why are you always touching me?" I whine and I grab his cheeks and squish them together. He looks to the roof and seems to be in agony.
The guys howl with laughter, I grin and push Harry's face away. "He is incredibly horny," I tell them, my voice pitching high on the word 'incredibly'. They're all trying very hard not to laugh and they're all failing miserably.
"Whenever I'm around him," I giggle, "he's always trying to get in my pants. It's like his head is hot wired to his, uh, penis." I'm shrieking with laughter by the time I finish. I'm holding my stomach because it hurts.
Harry can't stop glaring at me and I'm grinning up at him. Everyone but him is laughing, what did Louis give me? I can't stop laughing.
"Every time he kisses me or tries-"
"He's kissed you!?" Niall interrupts me abruptly, sitting up from his laying down position on the floor. His eyes are full with doubt and was that... disbelief? What, doesn't he think that Harry and I have kissed? He probably thinks that I'm not hot enough for Harry, that's it.
I sit up on my knees, determined to put Niall in his right mind. "Why is that so hard to believe? Harry and I have kissed tons." More like twice.
The boys whistle and whoop for Harry. At Niall's lingering look of doubt I shuffle forward on my knees towards him. One devious thought in my mind. My blood's heating and my lips turn into a wicked smile.
"Want me to show you Niall?" I take joy in the shocked expression on Niall's face as I near him. I lean down and close the distance between us.
"Mia!" Harry shouts a warning but I ignore him and attach my lips onto Niall's.
Everyone goes nuts. Louis, I think, roars with laughter and Liam shouts 'no' over and over again in a wildly amused voice. Everyone's howling as I mesh my lips together with Niall's. but the kiss doesn't last long because someone grabs me from behind. My mouth is torn away from Niall's by strong arms around my waist.
"Okay, time to go," Harry's gruff voice comes from behind me. He lifts me up and away from a strangely terrified Niall.
"No!" I squirm in Harry's grasp, feeling like a two year old. But then I can't even squirm anymore and I just burst out laughing. Harry carries me out of the room and I ecstatically wave goodbye to the suddenly sullen guys sitting on the ground. They don't wave back, I think Harry must of scared them, God he's so protective. He needs to stop that.
He carries me up the stairs and down a bunch of windy corridors. The whole time I'm singing We Are Never Getting Back Together. Fucking Taylor Swift and her pyjamas and band dressed up as animals. I want me a band dressed up as animals. Nah, actually, I want me a Harry Styles dressed up as an animal. Harry Styles the cow. Harry Styles the frog.
Harry Styles the puppy dog.
Woof.
My fists fly to my mouth to stifle my uncontrollable giggles. Harry opens a door and finally plants me on my feet in a dark, large room.
I spin away from him to look at the big bedroom. Shelves and wooden bookcases line the walls. Clothes scatter the floor and I realise that I'm in a teenage guys bedroom. Harry's obviously.
A mischievous smile lights up my face when I spot his bed. I can feel his stare on me as I step back and take a running leap at the king sized bed on the other side of the room. I land on my stomach with my arms spread wide out on the large mattress with an oof and a small giggle.
It's only when I'm lying here on this soft bed do I realise how tired I am. Harry sits on the bed next to me and I'm overcome with his presence. The whole room smells like him, all masculine and yummy. I breathe in his smell and freeze under Harry's burning stare. I look up from his pillow and stick my tongue out at him.
"What?" I ask him, trying to hide my grin and failing. His glare is furious... and fucking hilarious. I giggle as I reach up and poke him in the cheek. As I do so he seems to deflate. A frustrated sigh comes out of him and his body slumps.
"I am never letting you drink alcohol again," he says and I frown.
"Why? I'm not drunk," I protest and Harry looks incredulously down at me.
"You are drunk and apparently a light weight too."
"I'm not drunk," I say in a sing song voice.
"Yes you are," he replies in a much better sing song voice. He then sighs again, this time he sounds tired. I close my eyes again, overcome with my own tiredness. In the dark room there is silence. All that I can hear is the muffled voices from the others downstairs and the sound of our breathing.
"Hey Harry," I murmur, breaking the silence.
"Mm?"
"Did you miss me when you left?" I don't know what makes me say it. I've always thought that I was always the one that cared about more about Harry then he did about me. I can feel him looking at me, but I won't return his gaze. I look the other direction, afraid that I might cry or do something stupid if I don't like his answer.
"Of course I did," Harry says in the softest voice I've ever heard him speak in. I turn over, completely surprised.
"You did?" I blink up at him. He's got his arms crossed over his chest, his head leaning against the headboard. He nods, his lips smiling a little. I then feel something flutter deep inside me. Like something moving for the first time, coming alive like a small flame. But in my hazy mind I don't dwell on it long.
I smile sleepily up at him. I find his hand and I clasp it in mine, squeezing it gently. His fingers are warm and after a hesitant second they squeeze back. With the smile still on my face, my eyes flutter close and I drift into off to sleep.

Notes

All credit goes to the brilliant doily