Mental

-Miranda's POV-
*Next Day*

I was laying upside down on the couch while watching T.V. Yes it had come to this. I was so bored I had changed my position at least ten times to find myself upside down. All the blood was rushing to my head and I could feel a headache coming on. I was finally coming out of the bedroom lately, since Harry hadn't scared the living shit out of me. Things between us have been the same though, distance and cold.

My head hit the ground at the sound of Harry screaming from upstairs. I wasn't sure if something was wrong or it was one of his nightmares. I got up with a quick swift and looked over at the stair case. It was 5:12 p.m. and this is later then he usually sleeps, and in fact he'd been sleeping all day leaving just me and the big empty house.. I wanted to go up and make sure everything was okay, but Harry had put a restraining order on me from going up stairs and doing so. A second later there was a smash, sounded like going through sheet rock. I rubbed the top of my bed and grabbed the remote shutting the T.V off. I walked into the kitchen and put all the dirty dishes in the washer. A few minutes later I was greeted by Harry walking into the kitchen with bloody knuckles.

"Oh gosh, are you okay?" I asked, grabbing the wash cloth on the counter and damping it in cold water under the facet. I went over to him and grabbed his hand noticing his other hand was beaten up pretty badly as well, meaning he's done this before.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He winced in pain as the water hit his skin.

"Oh the tough bad boy can't handle a bit of water?" I teased him. I looked up and noticed the scowl on his face. I cleaned up the rest of the blood on his knuckles and grabbed the wrap from the emergency kit under the sink wrapping his around his hand. "No, I can." He pouted.

I hadn't noticed it till now but Harry has the prettiest green eyes I've ever seen. The way his eyes crinkle when he smirks at me. He looked down at me and our eyes our locked. I could feel his warm breath hit the skin of my forehead. I was much smaller then him by quite a few inches, maybe six or seven. I wouldn't be eye leveled even if I was on my tippy toes. He bent down a bit of ways, his lips only inches from mine. I could tell there where this was leading and if it was gonna be anything like the other night when I had slapped him, I should stop it here.

I quickly jerked my head the other way, before his lips met mine and only so they met my right cheek. "Um thanks." He said as his lips parted my cheek. i turned back so I was facing him. "You're welcome."

I put the emergency kit away back under the sink and continued to put the dishes in the dishwasher. Harry started fiddling with the wrapping of the prewrap and I slapped his other arm telling him to stop. "I'm gonna go downstairs, and throw a few punches." he told me.

"I don't think that's a good idea with your hand, it won't heal if you keep smashing and hitting things."

"Don't tell me what to do." And that's when his voice shifted tones again, this time it wasn't as striking as the last few. I turned away closing the dish washer hoping he would just go down stairs and break his hand just a little bit more.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap."

"It's fine Harry. Go on." I pretended to smile and he went on his way to the basement.

The basement door slammed shut, and it sent shivers down my back. I was curious of what he was doing down there. Well I knew he was punching the shit out of the punching back but he tends to do it often and I think it has to do with what he's hiding, behind all those tattoos and piercings. He only tends to go down there after he has a blow over with me. I walked over to the basement door and opened it slowly so he couldn't here me.

The lights were dimmed and the music was playing back to it's original screaming techno that I originally thought he listened too. I walked down one step and the steps creaked and squeaked, if he hadn't heard me yet, he sure will in a second. I took another step down and I still heard the punching to the bag. I walked down all the way really quickly so it would minimize the squeaking, didn't work.

I sat on the bottom step. Harry's back was facing me, and the music were like sirens in my ear. I crossed my legs and rested my elbow where both of my legs met on my knee, resting my chin in the palm of my hand. His muscles were tensed up, and his breathing was getting heavy as you could her it where I was sitting. With in a moment he went to punching, to physically attacking the bag, as if it were an actual person. For a moment I didn't recognize Harry, he was more aggressive with every next hit and kick, until finally he stopped. He cried out and fell to his knees burring his face into his hands.

"Harry?" I called out, he didn't answer but only looked over at me. His eyes bulged out of his head, eyes red and watery. He looked like he could burst out crying at any moment. Harry didn't look like the type to stop and cry, unless he was really hurting. I wasn't sure if it was the tattoos or his anger problems that made him came off that way but he looked like he could use a shoulder. He wiped his nose with the end of his white tank top sniffling.

I got up and walked over to him and bent down. "Why are you being so nice to me? I only whiplash out on you." he admitted.

"Though that's true, everyone needs a friend." I helped picked him up, his arm over my shoulder as I supported him, walking up the stairs. I brought him into the living room and saw that only boxing made his hands worse. He wasn't even wearing his boxing gloves but only the prewrap I had put on earlier.

I sat him down on the couch and ran into the kitchen getting a zip-lock bag putting ice in it from the freezer. I walked back over to Harry and sat down right next to him taking his hands and applying the ice to his bruised knuckles.

"Thanks." I heard him mumble. I looked up at him and smiled.

"No problem. You know what would help?"

"My knuckles?" He asked.

"No, your scene you just had down stairs."

"What?"

"Telling me what is wrong. Telling and letting it all out can only help you both mentally and physically." I pointed at his hands saying physically. He closed out his eyes real tight, so they were squinting. "I-I can't." He said once over again.

"You know you say that a lot, and keeping it inside only longer will only hurt you longer and cause more pain." I couldn't help him if he didn't tell me what was going on.

"I know, just not now."

After a while of just sitting there on the couch in complete silence I had ran into my bedroom grabbing my sketch book Harry had gotten me. I sat on the recliner across from Harry. He was sitting there with so much stillness not moving a single muscle, starring at the same spot. I flipped to an open page and started drawing lines running up and down the page, I hadn't noticed that I had kept looking over at Harry. Swirls had taken over the head of the hair and that soon turned into Harry face within moments of my pencil being on the sketch pad.

When I was done I looked down at what I had drawn;

harry_styles_by_gabitozati-d65io9p

Notes