Crown of Thorns

Emma spots me as soon as I walk into the small cafe. The bright, warm interior of the place and the smile on Emma's face forces the guilty emotions over last night back into the furthest corner of my mind.
I smile as I take my seat, my grin growing wider when I recognise the boy sitting next to my best friend.
"Nick, how are you?" I greet him. I'm always happy to see Nick. Him and Emma were a perfect couple before her parents found out about them. Has Emma told them that she and Nick are seeing each other again?
"I'm good. Styles wasn't able to make it?" Nick replies and I share a quick look with Emma. I explained to her last night that he wasn't able to make it due to a fight we had, I had to lie about the details. But it didn't much difference, she's still unhappy about it.
"Uh, yeah," I say giving Nick a small smile, "he's busy. I kinda sprung the date on him maybe a little too late."
"Do you know Harry Styles?" Emma turns to her boyfriend.
"Yeah, we're family friends." I blink at Nick, I wonder if this is true or if Nick is involved with some business that Emma and I don't know about.
"Oh really?" Emma asks and I find myself tuning out.
I watch the both of them interact with each other, only stopping to slip in my opinion or comment when needed.
The way they laugh together and idly play with each others fingers fills me with a sweetness and jealousy I do not understand. I notice Emma's eyes brighten when she looks at Nick, her whole body turns to face him. Nick himself gets this ghost of a smile that hovers of his lips, I watch his fingers skim over the skin of Emma's arm.
Just looking at the both of them remind me of Harry and I. Remembering his long fingers running over my stomach, my legs, my face, my neck. Feeling his breath in my mouth, his hot gaze on my face. I can't help the shiver that runs through me when I think about Harry holding me underneath him, his green eyes trained on mine.
I subconsciously run my hands over my goose bumped flesh, my gaze staring out at streets outside. Autumn has turned the trees to shades of brown and red, the pavements and the bright green grass dotted in leaves. It's raining outside, the wind pushing against the bodies of the few people outside. The sky's overcast and grey. Winter's over a month away and it already feels like it's here.
I like the cold though, I love winter and the snow. I love Christmas, warm drinks, big, soft jumpers and lit fireplaces. I wonder if I'll be able to spend it with Harry this year. Will we even last that long? I gulp and roll down the sleeves of my woollen jumper, positive thoughts, Mia. I remind myself.Positive thoughts.
Nick and Emma drop me off at my house and as I wave goodbye to the both of them my eyes stray to my neighbour's dark, big house. None of the lights are on, so he must be out. My heart sinks of the possibility of not being able to see him today. I want to apologise, I want him to hold me, I want us to act all stupid and couplely.
Inside my room I change into something more comfortable. I study, I cook dinner, I speak to my mother about small things, I get ready for bed, I go to bed and then I fall asleep.

~~~

"Mia," Louis says when he opens the front door to see me. I'm almost surprised to see him as he is to see me. But then I remember that the boys pretty much live here as well. I just haven't seen them a lot recently.
I clear my throat and cross my arms over my chest and tuck my hands under my arms to conserve heat, "Is Harry here?" I know it's time to apologise, I said the wrong things- like I always seem to do.
"No," Louis replies but I see the hesitation flicker in his eyes. Acting on the feeling of annoyance and desperation, I push past him into the warm house.
"I need to see him. Where is he?" I turn around as Louis shuts the door behind us.
"He doesn't want to be bothered," he says slowly and sternly. I don't listen to him, Harry's going to hear this apology whether he wants to or not. I walk down the hallway, trying to remember the way to his bedroom from memory. This house is so big.
Louis follows me down. "Mia," he calls, "he's busy. I've been told to keep everyone out." Everyone? There's others besides me that wants to speak to him?
"You've done a great job then," I sarcastically reply, avoiding the kitchen where I can hear the other boys loud voices.
"Mia," Louis tries again, still following me. His voice measured and careful, as if he's talking to an irrational toddler, "Mia."
"Louis!" I whirl around, getting impatient. "Stop speaking to me like that! Just tell me where he is!" I don't miss the twitch of a smile that pulls at his lips. He crooks a finger at me and I walk towards him.
"He's... restless and on edge," Louis warns me when I'm near. "Just, don't say anything to anger him further." Oh shit. I swallow the bile in my throat and head up the hall again.
Louis whistles at me and I twist my head around to see that he hasn't moved. He's leaning against the wall next to a door. He points at the closed door with his eyebrows raised. My heart rate leaps.
I let out a shaky breath, feeling my palms begin to grow clammy. It'll be fine, I tell myself, Harry's your boyfriend, nothing bad is going to happen. I smile at Louis before I open the door and step in.
The room is dimly lit, shelves of books line one wall of the room, a big shiny table set in the middle of the space. Behind the computer screen a curly haired head leaning over papers looks up at my entrance.
"Mia, what are you doing on here?" He frowns, "I though I told Louis to keep-" he cuts himself off, his brow furrowing further. I turn away from him and walk up the book case. I can hear my heart beat racing in my ears, my stomach turning nervously. I allow my fingers to drag over the bindings, pretending that I find them incredibly interesting. What am I doing?
"What are you doing?" Harry questions, asking me what I asked myself. I walk over to the chair on the other side of the table, opposite Harry, and drop into it. His green eyes stare at me expectantly, his pink lips pressed in a straight line.
"About Friday, I- once again I said the wrong thing." I can actually hear the nerves in my voice and it makes me feel weak. "I shouldn't have mentioned my dad."
"But you did," he says quickly and emotionlessly. I blink at the hurtful tone, and look down at my hands in my lap. "Yeah, I did. But it's not fair if you hold this massive grudge against my dad and I don't know the reason why."
Harry gives me a look of scepticism and indifference, "you do understand that it was your dad that threw my family out of this city and pretty much ruined my life." I flinch at his stinging comment. I thought this was going to be easier. But instead this conversation is beginning to remind me of how much I use to hate Harry before we started dating.
"Yes, I understand," I say in a small voice, not wanting to anger him further, wanting to get this apology over and done with.
"Do you? He snaps, his green eyes flashing with annoyance. "Do you really?" But like always Harry bring's out the worst in me and I can't help the feeling of anger that flares inside of me.
"No, actually, I don't. My dad didn't tell you to go join a gang and waste your life on dealing drugs and getting kicked out of school." Shit, I shouldn't have said that. I watch Harry's eyes burn from annoyance to anger.
"I'm sorry, but didn't you come over to apologise?" He says in a sardonic tone, his voice sneering and dripping in venom.
"Yeah I was going to," I laugh bitterly, "now I'm not." Jerk.
"How mature." He leans back in his seat, his mouth curled in a hateful smile, his eyes burning.
"At least I took the initiative to come here and apologise for something I did wrong."
"And look at you, acting so apologetic." The smile on his face seeming to become more and more nasty.
"How about you try to act apologetic for once, and then maybe we can talk our problems out, rather than avoiding them," I spit with annoyance.
"There were no problems until you come along and blow things out of proportion," he snaps.
"I do not blow things out of proportion! I wanted to know why you hate my father, which is a normal thing for someone to want to know."
"You said the wrong things Friday night, again."
"Excuse me?" I cannot believe I'm fighting with him when I originally came over to apologise. This is fucking ridiculous. "I did not. You may have not been ready to share and open up about your past but I needed to know about my dad and you. I also needed to know about the whole guns selling thing." I watch his smile slowly disappear
"You've been in the dark on this your whole life, I didn't have to tell you anything."
"Yes, you did! You think that fact that I wasn't told by my dad about his business that justifies your reasons not to tell me about yours? We're dating. A girlfriend needs to know that her boyfriend's earning millions selling arms." My breathing has gotten erratic, I can feel blood rushing to my cheeks, making them grow hot.
"A daughter needs to know that her father's earning millions destroying lives." Harry retorts.
"This isn't about my dad. He has his reasons why he hasn't told me, this is different." They must have to be pretty good fucking reasons, my thoughts tell me.
"It's not any different."
"It is," I snap.
"No it's not, both he and I are making a living off what we do. I'm dealing to criminals and he's dealing with them." Harry leans forward, resting on his elbows to face me. His expression one of fury and hatred.
"Dad's not making a living off it, he actually has a real job in business manufacturing. I know because I've been to his office. And we've always had that type of money, our family's money is old money. It came from my grandparents parents. Unlike yours that's probably come from the dirty unwashed hands of a psychotic mass murderer."
"Well those psychotic mass murderers definitely know where to find killer bargains." His tone is as unfunny and dry as his joke.
"How mature," I say adopting Harry's earlier poisonous, sarcastic smile.
"Old money, you want to talk to me about old money?" Harry's composure breaks and I listen to the volume in his voice as it gets louder. "Your dad, he probably hasn't worked a day in his life that doesn't involve ruining someone else's life."
"That's not true, he worked before he started doing all that. He's still working a normal job now!" My voice also begins to get louder.
"How do you know?" Harry seethes.
"Because I'm his daughter," I shoot back, more confident than I know I should be.
"You'd think he would've told you about his business then, you know, you being his daughter and all."
"Shut up," I tell him, because my mind has run out of more smarter things to say.
"Don't come in here, talking to me about money. You, a spoilt, city girl that gets everything she's dreamed of. You would have no idea what it's like living without all this." His voice raises and I wonder if the other boys back in the kitchen can sense the heated atmosphere in this big house. I think I can cut the air with a knife it's this thick and smothering.
"And you would?" I shout. I know what Harry has gone through, well all the stuff he's told me, but that comment stung. I want to yell, I want to scream, I want to hurt him.
"I was on my own, practically living on the streets. I didn't have anyone, I definitely didn't have money. Fuck yes, I would know," he yells back.
I stand up abruptly, my chair rocking back behind me. "Look at your house, look at that big fucking fancy chandelier, look at your car!" I scream, "Reckon you could live without it all now!?" My palms are sweating, my face burning, my heart racing.
Harry also stands up from his seat. "I don't need any of it! I don't want any of this, I don't want this money, this house is too big and too empty! I don't want this mess I'm in. I don't this life with it's shitty problems and it's shitty people!" He roars and by now I'm sure everyone in the house can hear us.
"That's life Harry. Deal with it! You're not the only one with problems you know!"
"Problems? You think you have problems!?" His eyes are flashing, his big hands curled into fists, Harry looks like he's on the edge of snapping and killing someone- and I'm the only other person in the room.
"Hello, don't you remember, I'm dating a fucking criminal!"
"Well you've got one less of a problem then!"
"Good! Maybe the next boyfriend I have I can invite him over to meet my mum and dad and worried concerned that I'll find him in the corner, sobbing over how my scary, big ol' daddy threw him out into a bad neighbourhood and ruined his life." A low blow, but I'm beyond caring.
I will not be a part of a relationship where every time we fight, I have to be the one apologising. I don't want to be the only one fitting the lodged pieces back together. I don't want to be walked all over, I don't want to feel like I'm the one who cares more than he cares about me.
Harry leans his palms onto the table, his head falling forward. "Get out," he says, his voice and tone dropping from loud and furious to quiet and icy cold. The change more scarier than before. "Get the fuck out."
He doesn't look at me and for a minute I just stare at him in disbelief. A cold chill seeps into my bones followed quickly by a hot blast of rage. So this is it, we're breaking up? Just like that? Angry, furious thoughts whip around inside my head like a hurricane.
"Fuck you," I spit before turning around and stomping out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I don't even try to avoid the kitchen to get to the front door, I cross right past the entrance to the kitchen, not missing the heavy silence and the looks of shock that Niall, Zayn, Louis, Liam give me.
"Mia's here!" Max shouts and I feel a twinge of pain when no one says anything afterwards. Not even a shush, Max's shout rings awkwardly in the air and guilt crashes down on me. But as I fling open the front door and slam it loudly behind me the guilt manifests and fuels my anger.
And I don't know who I'm more angry at, myself or Harry. Myself, for saying the wrong things and just for a being a fucking idiot. And Harry, for being a twatish, stupid face.
I hear a clang of metal and I stop to peer into the open garage. Harry appears out of the shadows, a dark expression on face and a long crowbar in his hand. My heartbeat leaps and my stomach drops when Harry advances towards me. I take a nervous step back but he stops next to his black Lamborghini.
"See, I don't need this shit," he yells at me and then turns and with the crow bar, he smashes the front window screen. I violently gasp, my hands flying to cover my mouth. The car alarm wails as Harry slams the crowbar into the hood, the passenger seat door, the windscreen again. Metal bends under metal, glass flies everywhere, the alarm wails.
"Oh my god, Harry, stop!" I cry, my eyes wide. What is he doing!? I watch his lean body, quickly and aggressively slam down the crowbar, his face a mask of fury and dark purpose. I watch the shadows across his arms play on the edges of his muscles. I wince every time a loud bang is exerted from the force of the crowbar hitting the car. The black shining, hood dints further and further into it's self as Harry smashes the metal down.
"Fuck!" Harry screams over the car alarm and glass bursts from one of the headlights. He swings the crowbar into the review mirror and it goes flying past me. He yells some more and another window smashes.
I inhale deeply when Harry stumbles away from the car, the crowbar dangling loosely in his hand by his side. I can see him panting, his gaze still on the vehicle. He doesn't look at all drained or tired. He still looks like he wants to inflict damage. My anger still also consumes me and so I walk up to Harry. I stare at his face until he meets my eyes.
"Give me the crowbar," I command, my tone surprisingly calm and steady compared to what I'm feeling on the inside. His gaze holds mine for a second before he passes the crowbar to me. With the screeching car alarm still wailing in my ears, I take the cool metal in my hands, my fringes wrapping around it tightly. I turn to face the car and I notice Harry beside me backing up. Smart boy.
I take a deep breath before lifting up the crowbar and slamming it down onto the dented, black car. The shock of the force hitting the car vibrates up the bar and into my hands, making them sting but I barely acknowledge the pain. I swing again and again, my actions a lot weaker than Harry's that they barely leave any new impressions on the Lamborghini. But it feels so good to hit something. I relish in the sound of every bang I make. I smash the only remaining window and I have to stifle the urge to scream along with the sound of shattering, clinking glass. I find myself getting into a rhythm, smacking the roof and doors in time with my thoughts.
I hate dad.
I hate Harry.
I hate myself.
I'm so fucking stupid.
You're an idiot.
This was such a nice car.
The crowbar clatters to the ground and I step back. My breathing is erratic, my heart beat pounding against my chest. My hands sting and I can feel them grow hot and red. I turn to Harry and we look at each other. I count three seconds of listening annoying pitch of wailing car alarm and the sound of our panting breaths before we both fly at each other.
We meet in the middle, his mouth on mine in an instant. This kiss is raw and consuming, his tongue and teeth clashing against mine. My hands run through his in his hair, knotting his curls around my fingers and pulling them tight.
Harry groans under my lips, his own hands finding my waist and pulling me tighter against his body. He backs me up against the cool garage wall, pinning me against it and fitting himself in between my legs. Harry swallows the sound of my sighs as he rocks his groin into mine, his mouth taking and demanding.
"Stay," Harry growls, his lips retreating from my own to suck my neck.
"Fuck off," I reply in a breathless voice, his tongue wet and licking. He nips my skin and I gasp.
"Stay," he insists again.
"No."
"Yes," his tone is lighter, all his anger lost. I can feel him smiling into my neck. My hand drops to his shoulder, my fingernails digging into his back. Harry keeps rocking his erection into me, the feeling causing my brain to go numb. A whimper escapes from me, tangled in my breathless pants. His big hand comes to cup one side of my face, holding it in a firm grip as he takes my mouth again. His tongue plunging and demanding response.
I want to hate him, I do. But I can't. I can pretend, I can lie to myself but I will never be able to despise this boy. He drives me crazy, he hurts me and he's rude but it seems that I can't get enough of him. Oh, it would be so much easier if I hated him. I could push him away and never have to deal with him again. Never again would I have to suffer from his words or lack of words. But, I have no willpower against him and so I can do nothing but hold him close and kiss him with all I have.

Notes

Okay so this is the last chapter the author had updated. I'm still unsure about whether she is going to continue the story since she hasn't updated in a matter of months. I have messaged her and hopefully she will let me know if she has dropped the story or not. Stay subscribed and I'll let you know xo