Little Bird

The next morning I woke up in Harry’s bed, tangled in the mass of bed sheets that adorned his familiar musky scent. For a brief moment I sat up and rubbed my eyes before turning to the right and expecting Harry to be beside me, but the vacant space reminded me once more I was completely ignorant to his whereabouts.
Mentally I rolled my eyes at myself, releasing a huge sigh as I sunk back into the comfortable mattress, my eyes and cheeks sore from the tears shed the previous night. I lay motionless for seemingly hours, before finally I ordered my pathetic-self to get out of bed and face the day ahead, even though I wanted nothing more than to drown myself in a heavy slumber.
Quietly I slipped out of bed, just realizing that I still wore the clothes from yesterday.
I undressed quickly and changed into some comfortable clothes. I made my way downstairs as quiet as possible, my sleeves hiding my hand as I hugged my body, noticing as I walked into the living room that the TV was on but presumably all the boys were in the kitchen.
I stopped outside upon hearing Louis’ familiar voice, bracing myself to head in.
“– I told you, she’s a thinker. I don’t blame her for needing to let it out, reckon I’d have a much harder time coping if I was her.” He said, a trace of guilt seeping into his tone that made my own stomach twist with guilt at the thought of Louis being upset. I had caused that, me, and my stubborn tears that were so persistent in leaking.
“I feel horrible.” I thought I heard someone mutter, “I feel really fucking shitty about this whole fucking thing.”
“We’re not kidnappers, are we? I feel like a kidnapper – anyone else feel like a kidnapper? What the fuck was Harry thinking? Jesus, we should be in jail shouldn’t we? I mean, what if she’s not okay? What if we’re ruining her life?”
“We’re not doing anything. Niall mate, calm down.”
“Look I don’t feel any better about this. We can’t do anything but try and take her mind off things, I don’t know what she does with Harry but we should just try and let her… loosen up a bit? I don’t know. Just don’t bring last night up either.” Louis said.
Sighing a little, I ignored the lodge wedged tightly in my throat and walked into the kitchen upon hearing a change in conversation, pretending I hadn’t witnessed all that was said prior. It was just Zayn, Louis and Niall in the kitchen. I presumed Liam was still in bed.
“Hi,” I murmured shyly, fidgeting with the sleeves of my hoody as all attention focused on me. I tried to ignore that my hair was pulled into a messy bun at the top of my head, and that I looked like crap because I really didn’t need self-conscious thoughts entering my mind on top of everything else.
“Hey Birdy!” Louis exclaimed in his usual cheery voice. “I’m making pancakes! Harry said you love pancakes.” I nodded my head, sitting down at the table as Zayn patted the empty seat between him and Niall, offering me a warm smile.
“We tried telling him not to, Louis once set toast on fire.” Zayn whispered loudly, a teasing playfulness to his tone. I smiled a little.
“How do you set toast on fire?” I asked quietly.
“– Well, Birdy, when you break your toaster and have an uncontrollable craving for toast, and have to resort to making it with a fork over the open fire, it doesn’t seem like it’s all that impossible. Does it, Zayn?” He retorted hitting him over the top of the head with the spatula he had thrown into the trolley yesterday. I laughed in spite of myself; wanting to spend the day moping and wallowing in misery, but I knew Louis wouldn’t allow that to happen.
“Yeah, and what about the time you set your soup on fire?”
“Enough.” Louis snapped dramatically, waving the spatula some more. “There was a mishap with the microwave… or the soup. What about the time you dropped your hair dryer in the bath? Hmm? Who shut of all electricity in the building, eh Zayn?”
Louis had sat on a spare chair, still wearing an apron with the spatula in his hand. He seemed to have resigned as head chef to challenge Zayn with embarrassing stories, while Niall and I exchanged appropriate looks at the pointed times before our laughter filled the room.
“… Well, yeah, but remember that time we were at a restaurant and the hot waitress held out her hand after flirting with your for an hour to slip you her number, and instead of accepting it like a normal person you gave her a knuckle bump?”
“WAIT. WAIT. WAIT.” Louis announced loudly, “Why are we reminiscing about our embarrassing lives when we could be telling Birdy about all the embarrassing things Harry has done?”
And so they launched into a full blown discussion about the countless embarrassing scenarios Harry had been in; the time he had cried at the Lion King; the time he had gotten drunk and vomited all over a girl he had a crush on; the time he had been locked out the house in a pair of small, tight boxers curtsey of Louis (although to Harry he hadn’t been embarrassed at all); the time he had lost his shoe down a public grid and the time he had been dared to announce his love for flapjacks down a supermarket speakerphone, only to have been chased out by security and suffer a year ban from Tesco.
And they were so indulged in sharing embarrassing stories about Harry, Louis had completely forgotten about the pancakes he was making; and we were only aware of this when Noodles began barking at the flames and smoke coming off the cooker from the burnt pancakes.
“Oh shit.” At first he began trying to tame the flames with his spatula, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his stupidity when the spatula caught fire too.
“Louis, you absolute fucking moron.”
I took hold of Noodles while the three boys bustled over how to get the fire out, until eventually Liam came rushing in still wearing pajamas and put it out with the hose from the back garden.
~*~
Louis and I sat on the couch for a little while, and eventually I spotted Harry’s laptop sitting in the corner. Everyone around me was preoccupied, so when I opened it, a smile gracing my lips when I discovered that somehow the episode was still on screen, no one argued when I began watching. It had been around 10 minutes before Louis finally caught on that I was watching something on Harry’s laptop.
He gasped, picking it up and taking it from my reach. I looked up at him with wide eyes, “Harry lets me!” I exclaimed before he could say anything.
“Harry lets you watch it when he’s with you.” He pointed out.
“Well then watch it with me."
He looked like he was pondering over a decision for a few moments, before a mischievous grin spread across his face. “You can watch it – but you have to do a few things for me.”
I eyed him suspiciously, wondering what he could possibly want from me. “What?” I asked quietly.
“We’re watching 'Killer Clowns' in a bit, you have to watch it with us and then you can watch this later, a-”
“–But I hate clowns!” I interrupted dramatically, my eyes wide with the mere thought of having to endure a scary clown film. I watched as a smug smile painted itself across Louis lips, and Niall spoke up.
“We figured when your eyes nearly popped out of your head when Lou put the film in the trolley yesterday. You saw the clown and looked traumatized.” He laughed, as though my rational fear of clowns was something amusing.
I narrowed my eyes at Louis, “You’re mean.”
“And,” he exaggerated, “You have to give Harry a chance.” He added, the smug smile fading into a little once that played on his lips; all humour had dissipated from his tone. I looked up at Louis for a few moments, thoughts of his whereabouts entering my mind. I wondered where he was and why he had gone, and why he hadn’t given me a warning to where or why or when he was leaving.
I paused, silently thinking for a few moments. “Is he okay?” I asked quietly.
Louis’ eyebrows raised, a smile tugging at his lips – the humour returned.
“What?” I asked defensively, “Can’t I be concerned about the mental and, or physical state or my kidnapper?”
He laughed, “No, no. You can be concerned about the mental, and, or physical state of your kidnapper all you want. Don’t let me stop you.”
~*~
I hated clowns.
I hated clowns with a passion, a deep, burning, uncontrollable passion that overpowered everything within me.
They are unnecessary and stupid, I declared as pathetically I hid my face behind my fingers, not wanting to witness the scene unfolding on the screen before me, the horror film that just so happened to have my deepest, darkest fear in.
We had been watching it for an hour and I was seriously questioning whether Supernatural was worth this monstrosity currently happening on the TV.
The clowns were eating people. Eating people!
The four boys seemed neither bothered nor fazed at the clown’s actions; not the horrifying costume it was wearing or the people it had killed, by eating. Louis even laughed at one point, which then made me question his sanity.
“This is highly disturbing.” I muttered feebly, “I’m under 18; technically you’re breaking the law letting me watch this.”
“Actually, legally I’m an adult so technically, we’re not breaking the law - unlike that clown.” Louis grinned.
And from then on, as I found a pillow to hide behind, Louis found it entirely appropriate as well as incredibly amusing to mutter comments to me throughout the remaining of the film, such as:
“You can always seek comfort in Harry when he gets back later.”
“Maybe Harry’ll let you sleep in his bed tonight?”
“Hey Birdy, I know for a fact Harry doesn’t like clowns, either.”
“Maybe you two could bond over your mutual hatred for children’s entertainers, or in this case mass murderers?”
“Don’t worry, when Harry gets back he’ll be able to protect you from any clowns that could be lurking in your wardrobe or under your bed.”
“Is it an urban myth that clowns eat teenage girls?” - I cringed further behind the pillow following that one.
“Birdy don’t pretend like when Harry comes back you won’t seek his protection over any crazy cannibal clowns.”
Eventually, as the film finally came to an end, I stood from the couch and silenced him with a pillow to the stomach.
“You get defensive because you know it’s true.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
I tried in vain to keep the smile from creeping onto my lips at his playfulness, and ignoring the laugh that blurted from my lips I hit him with the pillow once again, and again as he continued to make inappropriate comments, amusement rooted deeply in his tone.
“Do you pound Harry this hard?”
Niall and Zayn’s laughter bounced off the walls, and my lips parted in shock as with wide eyes I stared at his teasing smile. I would have hit him again with the pillow but with his previous comment said I didn’t think that would be such a good idea. My cheeks flushed with heat and I took a step back, embarrassed but thankful and relieved when the sound of Louis’ phone ringing filled the air, hopefully steering the attention from what Louis had just said.
I sat back in my previous spot, my lips sealed and fighting another smile as my cheeks cooled down and Louis spoke to whoever was on the phone.
“Here,” He said after a few minutes, handing me the phone.
I looked up at him confused, but pressed it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Birdy.” Harry’s husky voice caressed into my ears, the sound so familiar but almost foreign at the same time.
“Hi,” I said shyly, fighting the blush that was arising in my cheeks at the four pairs of eyes I knew was glued to me. They couldn’t even be a little bit discreet.
“Are you okay?” He asked, and I nodded before realizing he couldn’t see me. I was vaguely aware of the voices in the background, there was a bit of rustling and shouting before it was quiet.
“Yeah,” I assured him quietly, repeating the question back to him before I knew what I was saying. “Are you okay?”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m fine.” He told me, “Now, I need you to be completely honest with me, okay Birdy?”
I gulped, frowning a little at the sudden seriousness to his tone, a feeling of uneasiness loitering in my stomach. “O-kay.”
“… Has Louis burned the house down yet?”
I laughed loudly, pressing my the palm of my hand over my mouth to stifle the giggles falling from my lips as I ignored the curious glances that were shot my way at my abrupt burst of laughter. “Let’s just say the pancakes weren’t edible and you need a new pan.”
“Oi, you two best not be insulting my cooking skills.”
“You’d have to have cooking skills for us to insult them.” I retorted cheekily, poking my tongue out and smiling to myself as I heard Harry’s raspy, boyish laugh echo down the line, and then the phone was abruptly taken from my grasp, and before I knew what was happening, Louis’ arms had wrapped around me and he’d captured me in an awkward headlock.
“Alright curly, I’ve taken your precious Birdy hostage in a headlock as punishment for her sass.”
He lifted the phone from his ear. “He doesn’t believe me.” He said, and then frowned. “He also said to release you because he doesn’t know where I’ve been.” I laughed, pinching his arm as he had hung up the phone and tried taking a photo of our tangled limbs. My laugh continued to fill the air, my smile rivaling Louis’ own until eventually the flash went off.
“I am the master of sass. Admit it.” He threatened, holding up the photo on his phone. “Or this goes viral.”
I laughed at him and the stupidity if his threat, “More like the Queen of sass.”
He gasped dramatically as more laughter from Zayn and Niall filled the air, and as Louis had released me Niall reached over holding his hand up. I high fived Niall; smiling innocently at Louis as he got off the couch, dramatically declaring he was leaving to go to bed.
~*~
I yawned, releasing a content moan as I snuggled further into the couch pillow, stirring a little upon hearing voices. I was drifting in and out of consciousness, too consumed with sleep to question what I was half hearing.
And then my eyelids fluttered open as I was gently bundled into a set of muscular arms, and my eyes sought out a pair of emerald irises as I did so. Only as I blinked a few times, Harry’s familiar scent resonating in my nose, an immediate frown creased my brow and confusion and concern was etched upon my features.
Harry’s lip was bust, dried blood was smeared just beneath his nose, he had a deep cut embedded into his skin just above his right eyebrow and his left cheekbone was bruised severely, a dark, purple contusion adorning his skin. I gaped at him, my lips falling open in shock as I questioned the image before me.
“I’ve missed you.” He breathed, relief set on his damaged face as he carried me past prying eyes and up the stairs.
I said nothing in return, but had the impulsive reaction to tenderly reach up to his face. Harry didn’t stop me, nor did he say anything. My forefinger gently touched his busted lip, brushing over the cut that he had somehow gained during his time away, to where I didn’t know. Harry flinched slightly, but allowed my fingers to then tenderly caress his cheek.
I didn’t think about what I was doing, no queries on my mind because of my actions.
Harry carried my into his bedroom, and only when I was gently set down on the bed I addressed the only two questions swirling in my mind.
“Are you okay? What happened to you?” I asked quietly, confused.
“It doesn’t matter.” He told me simply, dismissing the matter as if the subject was nothing serious; but to me it wasn’t normal to come back battered and bruised. Harry’s green eyes were staring back at mine, burning into my own; his brown, curly hair tousled and unruly, a perfect mess at the top of his head; and his lips curved into a small smile, fading a little when the questions continued to spill from my mouth.
I didn’t have time or the chance to address how I felt about Harry being back, the absence no longer a weird, gaping hole that fuelled to my confusion. I couldn’t because even in my hazy state, still surfacing from clouded sleep, my mind was set on the image before me. Harry was leant over me, his face not far from mine as I lay on the bed.
“It does.” I said simply, soaking in how sore it must have been for him. I had felt guilt and been highly sympathetic towards Louis for the impressive black eye he was adorning, but the injuries Harry sustained looked far more severe than a black eye courtesy of a hysterical teenage girl and her converse clad foot. I hadn’t even looked at the remaining of his body, but I noticed how he was hunched over slightly, and from the position he was in I could tell it wasn’t the most comfortable for him.
I sat up causing him to stand up straight. “You’re hurt,” I observed softly, my brow crinkling as I stared at him.
I hadn’t known whether I wanted Harry to come back, in spite of my emotions that had gotten the better of me yesterday and the strange, evident hole his absence brought – but either way, I was sure I didn’t want him to return like this.
“What happened?” I asked again, quietly.
“I told you, it doesn’t matter.” He said his voice stern with an evident harshness that wasn’t there before.
I continued to stare curiously, concerned at what he wasn’t telling me. Surely I had some right to know what had happened for Harry to suddenly reappear with injuries that weren’t there prior to his abrupt departure. Or was that not in the terms of being a victim of Harry’s kidnapping?
I stood from the bed, sleep that was previously heavy within me forgotten entirely.
“Birdy, just forget about it. I’m back, none of that matters. All that matters is I’m here.”
A kidnappee shouldn’t be happy their kidnapper has returned, I thought logically for a brief moment. “B-But,” I stuttered, opting to blatantly ignore the anger arising on Harry’s facial features as I began my string of arguments and protests.
“Of course it matters. Normally people don’t go out and come back covered in cuts and bruises,” I hadn’t seen the rest of Harry’s skin, but I presumed it wasn’t just his face that had taken some beating.
He started pacing, his jaw locked and fists clenched. Whatever had happened prior to his return and the bruises and cuts covering his face had clearly fuelled to any anger Harry was harboring beforehand. I shouldn’t have pushed, but I was confused, I had been left so abruptly and now he returned with the indication someone had tried, and from what it appeared, succeeded in beating him up and I didn’t get to know why?
That didn’t seem right at all.
“Birdy,” he growled suddenly, harsh voice tearing through the calm atmosphere that gradually became tight and thick with tension.
“Leave it.” He spat, words pronounced perfectly clearly and harshly.
I gulped the lodge that had began rising within my throat, fidgeting with the sleeves of my hoody as I stood awkwardly. For a few moments the silence was uncomfortable and heavy, just waiting for a simple word or sentence to break through the air that was thick with tension. Disregarding all consequences, I spoke up.
“… Did someone beat you up?” I questioned timidly.
“Birdy!” He shouted, “I’ve told already to leave it! Stop it because it doesn’t matter, okay? I’m fucking exhausted and I don’t need this right now, I wanted to come back and relax and not have to worry about you anymore because I’d be with you; but I can’t do any of that if you keep trying to dig up shit.” He snapped viciously, each word laced with a bitterness that seemed like its sole purpose was to hurt me.
I didn’t appear to be fazed by Harry’s cold words even though I thought the harsh edge was unnecessary. I was unable to swallow the own words rising up my throat.
“Well I’m sorry but I’m bound to be a bit confused and curious! What am I supposed to think, Harry? I mean Jesus, here I am being all concerned when I’m supposed to hate you and you won’t even reassure me that you’re okay! What am I to you, a whiney teenage girl that wants the gossip, the dirt on you? I care, Harry!”
I had no idea where that came from, but my frustration had caused words to spill profusely from my lips before I could even think about what I should or would say.
“Fuck’s sake, Birdy!”
Bang.
Harry’s frustration, however, topped mine. Breathing heavily with his jaw clenched he turned to the right of him, fist plunging straight into the plaster wall. I gaped at him, lips falling apart in shock at his irrational response. I was frozen to the spot as Harry drew back his fist, blood trickling down his knuckles. Harry didn’t inspect the damage done, not the new hole in the wall, the bloody hand, nor my own reaction as he leant against the wall and sunk down, body making it’s inevitable descent towards the earth.
His knees were up, elbows resting against then and his bloody hand loosely in the air, a red substance dripping to stain the carpet in small circular droplets. Harry’s head was hung. He didn’t look up.
Almost numbly, I found myself walking out of the room, Harry refusing to look up as I did so. I walked into the bathroom and opened the cabinet, retrieving the same first aid kit Harry had used on my own injuries when I had awoken to discover my sealed fate.
His head snapped up when I quietly entered the room, from the surprise and confusion colouring his features he obviously hadn’t expected me to come back, certainly not with the first aid kit. He must have predicted his abrupt, uncontrollable response to my pushing would have frightened me, and that it had, but I wasn’t about to avoid him like the plague because he had anger issues.
Something had happened to him, something that had resulted in injuries bruising and tainting his skin, and even if he wasn’t going to tell me, I wasn’t about to allow him to push me away.
Without a single word from either of us, silently I kneeled before Harry; opening the first aid kit I brought out an antiseptic wipe and a white bandage. Timidly I reached to Harry’s bloody fist, relieved he didn’t move away but cautious he could retract his hand at any moment. I didn’t look at Harry as the wipe soaked in the blood, but I was well aware of his curious gaze watching my every move.
My lips hadn’t parted once, and they continued to remain sealed as I unraveled a bandage once Harry’s hand was clean, and I gently wrapped up his knuckles, noticing as I did so cuts and bruises embedded the torn skin on his hand. He had been fighting.
Eventually when I had finished, quietly I got to my feet.
I left the room, feeling disheartened and slightly hurt that Harry had been so quick and intent on pushing me away. Quietly I slipped into my own room and tried my best to do as Harry said and sink into sleep, but the image of Harry’s bruises and cuts were embedded into my mind and I couldn’t close my eyes without witnessing what I had earlier all over again.
I couldn’t sleep because I was confused and curious and concerned all in one, thinking about the questions running through my head. What had happened to Harry for him to sustain those injuries in such a short amount of time? Where must he have gone? Why he had gone there? Had someone beaten him up like I suspected? Why had someone or some people beaten him up? What had he done to deserve it?
But most importantly, why did I care?

Notes

'm sorry this sucks i've been putting off writing it because I had so many things I wanted to squeeze in and I couldn't so I cut some things out and ashdjldm I just don't like this chapter at all.
your thoughts on everything that happened are appreciated anyways:')
and the next one, however, will have a lot of Harry and Birdy's and their pasts so you'll get to know a bit more about Harry :) xx
also a little update on my life bc idk. i went to see my men at OTRAOttawa sept8/9 and it was amazin . i videotaped the whole thing and i cried during little things. ALSO NEW 5SOS AND 1975 SONF CAME OUT YESTERDAY AND I WASNT PREPARED. HOPE I GET TO SEE 5SOS AGAIN ON THE NEW TOUR