I wish I could carry your smile in my heart.

"So you're not going to talk to me? You kidnap and then ignore me?" Nothing. He ignores me. Again. It's been this way for the last five minuets. Harry's scowling, face forward, fingers digging into the steering wheel. "I know I should have said goodbye--"

"Eat this," he cuts me off, reaches behind him and grabs a small takeout bag, he sets it on my lap and clasps his hand back on the wheel.

I tilt my head to his side and give him a brooding stare. His head turns in my direction and he gives me his all too familiar warning glare, "don't fucking start. Eat it. I promised I'd get you healthy again and I'm not going to fail. Eat it."

I wish he had promised to make me happy again, but trying to get me healthier is easier.
"I'm not hungry." I mumble.

"You didn't eat yesterday," he says, face facing the road again.

"Yes I did."

"So you're lying now too? Not just running?" My heart drops into my stomach and my eyes bug, "don't bother lying, Presley. I've spoken to Ben. You haven't eaten properly in two days. Eat the bloody food. You're disappearing right in front of me. Stop acting like a child and eat."

"I'm not a child," I try.

"Then don't make me feed you like one and eat like you have the capacity to do so."

I think I preferred when he was ignoring me. He was at least civil then.

"Where are we going?" The streets are familiar and there's a car following closely behind us. I have two guesses. Either security or a pap. Either is difficult to escape. "Where are we going?" I repeat when he doesn't answer. He doesn't. Again. "So we're ignoring me again?"

His chest releases a soft growl and I can see his fingers tighten around the poor wheel. "I can't eat this without throwing it up again." I'm too fidgety to keep anything other than water down.

"I'm five seconds from bending you across my knee," he snarls. My eyes fly open and I think my heart has a stutter. I think I've made Harry crazy. I think he's beyond help at this point. "Eat. Now."

"No."

"No?" He looks back at me with raised eyebrows that have me questioning my sanity. Luckily the light flicks green and the car begins to move again, forcing his eyes to look away, "give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull over and spank you. And it better be a good fucking one."

Well for one it won't look very good on the cover of a magazine. Two, it's not normal and if he's really considering this, he may need more help than I do. And three, I'm nineteen. Not three.

"Because I don't want you to?"

"We all don't want certain things to happen," he replies, turning left as my stomach flips and my apartment building comes to view.

Of course.

He takes one look at my reaction and nods, "Ben was right to warn me about you not wanting to do this." My hand flexes to open the door-- because death seems less miserable than having to clean out my old apartment. But Harry's quick. He child locks my door and presses his arm across my chest. "Oh no you don't," he pushes my body back against the seat and parks along the curb, killing the engine. He turns in his seat and eyes me critically, "don't make me carry you in."

"You have no right doing this," this is crossing so many lines. Fuck, I wish I was strong enough to kick him. I really do. "You and Ben are both inconsiderate fucks."

"And you're mine," his face clenches and his hand finds it's way to my jaw. He grips it gently and forces me too look at him, "you said so yourself. You're mine and you're going to do this because I said so. Because I know you need this."

"You don't know me very well if that's your best argument."

"It's all I need," he replies with a narrow gaze, "I'm so mad at you."

"Then take me home," I whine. This isn't funny. Harry being mad is one thing but having him and Ben plan this is horrible.

"This is your home," he murmurs. "You lived here for a month. Thrity-one days by yourself."

"And?"

"You ran away from it," he states. I pick my head up and my breath hitches. Harry has dark rings under his eyes. They're purple and tired. His eyes are doleful and bleak. I don't remember Harry ever looking so somber. Or tired. It feels worse than it actually is because I know I caused this. "The same way you ran away from me."

"Sound familiar?"

His eyes harden and his lip twitches, "is that why you left? Wanted to show me how it felt?" His voice has a low threat in it, causing my blood to spike and my head to spin. "I want to hate you for it, Presley."

"Go ahead," though it doesn't seem very fair. Not when it only took a few measly days for him to find me. He doesn't know what it's like to be left. He doesn't fucking get it. So if he wants to hate me, I won't stop him. "Do whatever you want. You always do."

"I'm not getting into this with you right now," he snarls with hard, angry eyes, "you're half asleep and frighteningly pale. It won't be a fair fight."

"Nothing is fair, Harry," he looks taken back and half livid. The last time he gave me this look, I had forgotten my phone at home and I had worried him. Back then I had kissed him and promised to never do that again. Now, I don't think anything will ever fix that look.

"Is this you breaking up with me?"

"Is this-- I didn't fucking know we were together?!"

Harry gives me a look that is somewhere between 'are you stupid' and 'I'm offended' that has me squirming and conflicted. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

"Once again, do what ever you want."

Harry narrows his eyes at me and grips my jaw again, "trust me, you don't want me me to do what I want." He kisses me roughly, his hand sliding behind the back of my head pressing my mouth against his. I opened my right eye to see the keys hanging in the ignition. That's when the tiny lightbulb went off. I felt slightly ridiculous for not realizing it sooner. It would need to happen quick because I would need air soon. I reached over, trying not to be noticed and pressed the button that would allow my freedom.

My heart accelerated when the small beep ringed, and I must be extra lucky today because Harry didn't even open his eyes. His tongue did find refuge in my mouth and I would have loved to enjoy it, if I wasn't about to make a run for it.

The car that has been following us, parked close behind and a large and rotund man came out. He strolled casually towards us, knocked on Harry's window.

Harry pulled away with a sigh and stared intently at me for five seconds (not that I was counting, because I wasn't) his eyes locked with mine and a sigh slipped from his mouth, "what am I going to do with you," he mumbled, before giving me one last kiss and turning to face the stranger.

I counted to three and thanked God for the lucky break I have just received. With my bottom lip between my teeth and my heart up to my ears I opened the door slightly (and I wish cool music was playing in the background so that it'd be a lot cooler) I thanked the burly man for distracting Harry as I set one foot on the ground, quickly followed by the other. I opened the door completely and stood out. Conveniently and much to my dismay that was exactly the moment Harry decided to turn.

I took one last look and murmured, "running away is my thing." I slammed the door and ran like a bat out of hell, trying to ignore Harry yelling my name.

I ran-- in the literal sense-- I ran, passing every street, every human and the few girls screeching as they noticed the pop star I was trying to flee from.

I knew Harry was following behind, I also knew the big bear of a man was following behind him. And for once I wish a fan would throw themselves in his face and stop him because I am running out of air and my knees are starting to ache.

I make a left and run into a corner. My body heaves into itself and my hands are on top of my thighs as my body doubles over, trying to fill itself with air as if I had been drowning.

I wish I had been drowning. Filling my mouth with water and slowly filling my mind with black nothing. I want it to end here. I want someone to help me. I want to fucking kill myself in a random accident so that no one would blame themselves for my untimely death.

I'm getting bad again, I know. Ben knows. My parents know. Deep down I know Harry does too and he's just in denial.

I press my forehead against the concrete wall, panting. This is ridiculous, I just ran away because I didn't want to clean. I ran into a corner and now I'm hiding like a criminal. I'm utterly pointless and I don't care as much as I should.

I'm so deep into my self loathing I don't hear the footsteps coming closer. It's not until two familiar arms are around my middle that I realize I'm not alone.

"I should have expected that," Harry pants, his breath fanning the back of my neck, "no more running away. I'm your thing now. Me."

My breathing is still uneven and I can't remember my left from my right. I don't have the energy to keep running, though I wish I did.

Notes

I like cinnamon in my coffee and my problems far, far away. Xx