Bad Meets Good

You're Not Leaving

“Because, I think he’s my new neighbor” I mumbled, certainly unsure of the postulation I said barely above a whisper to myself. I’m more than certain that Harry’s keen hearing caught the words slipping from my parted mouth before I was even able to interpret them myself decorously. Arising thoughts were springing free, lighting up, and jumping all over the place in the immeasurable extraterrestrial place I somehow manage to call my mind: Is it good that he’s my new neighbor? Is it a bad thing? What did he do to Harry? Could he have been linked with Jen? And most importantly, why was he in jail?

If were talking about the same black haired boy whose hair is styled into a quiff and has a effortlessly chiseled face that looks like it’s been crafted by angels themself with captivating hazel eyes that take your breath away in an instant. What type of predicament does that put me in of all people? It’s quite perceptible that Harry holds antipathy towards him adequately judging solely from his body language and tone of voice.  His whole posture seems unyielding and it’s driving me on edge deep inside that I’d rather look into space then into his penetrating ones that feels as if he’s examining me under a  microscope for validation of what I whispered.

I was too caught up in my train of thought to pay mind of Harry’s outstretched arms that held my shoulders in place, devising me in an upright position on the welcoming bed that soon turned extraneous as he called my name over and over again. I blinked before shaking my head at his scowled face which had the company of raised eyebrows.

“No-I mean, he asked but I dismissed the subject”

“Oh my fucking god London, are you fucking serious right now? You spoke to him and didn’t even have the audacity to fucking tell me of all people until now!” he bellowed and I flinched back from his volume. I suddenly felt like a little child, being scorned by their harsh parents because of a simple fault they weren’t even aware of committing. The oppressive side of him right now before my eyes was of a foreign nature that I wasn’t accustomed too.

“How was I supposed to know it was him?”

“That’s beside the point, you should have told me!”

“And tell you what? Oh Harry I have this new neighbor named Zayn and I think you might know him” I spit back at him, sarcasm dripping from my voice. I’m not going to put up his belittlement towards me. I reach my hands up and shove as hard as I can at his chest but he doesn’t bulge an inch. All he does in return in is tighten his grip and glare at me maliciously.

“You better cut that sarcastic shit out and watch your mouth” he seethes, clearly infuriated.

“Me? To watch my mouth? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now, Harry! You’re the one who is cursing and patronizing me for no goddamn reason and you expect me to watch my mouth?” I say annoyed and literally agitated.  I didn’t even do anything wrong but yet here he is, mad at me like no tomorrow. 

“London, sto-”

“No, you stop Harry and get the hell off of me” I say while shoving his shoulders back in frustration. He unwilling lets go of my shoulders and I take the time to get off the bed and storm into the bathroom with my change of clothes. Slamming the door loudly behind me, I change into my dress from earlier and grab his clothes I stripped of in my hands. 

I swing the bathroom door open tediously and walk past his broad shouldered standing figure that eyes my figure fixatedly.

“Where are you going?”

I ignore him and stroll over to his bed and place the clothes on their. Picking up the shirt, I fold the oversized tee-shirt on his bed neatly before sitting down on the bed and taking a seat. I grab my beige studded flats from the floor and place them on my feet while looking down as his height shadows over my seated one.