Fists and Knives (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 25

It was a perfect day.  The weather seemed perfect, the wind was blowing perfectly, and the city didn’t seem too busy for once.  I sat at a round table just outside of a tiny café in the middle of the city.  Already, I spotted paparazzi across the street, snapping pictures of me as they could.  A taxi screeched to a halt on the street beside my table and Clark bailed out of the back seat after paying the driver.  He was wearing a gray suit that actually fit him and a tie that didn’t look 10 years old.  He plopped down at the table across from me and grinned.  “I’m really glad to see you again,” Clark said, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand.  

I pursed my lips into something like a small smile and nodded once.  “Thanks for agreeing to meet.” 

“How have you been?”

“Fine.  Yourself?”

“Fine.  Still cooking for Styles?”

“Of course.”

“And you’re being treated well?”

“Definitely,” I confirmed.

Clark nodded slowly. “Good.”

“Yeah.”

I glanced across the street at the group of paparazzi snapping pictures.  I could see the headlines for tomorrow. Something about me being a cheater and a liar and a bad girlfriend.  Clark followed my gaze and shifted in his seat when he saw the paps.  “What did you need to see me for?”

“I need to piss Harry off.”

What?  Why was I saying that out loud?  Why would I tell Clark that?

“So he can win his fight?”  Clark asked.  How did he know?

“Yes…” I admitted.

“Well, I know what will really piss him off,” Clark said smugly, leaning forward across the table and grabbing my face.  He planted his lips firmly on mine and held the back of my head so I couldn’t pull away.  I could almost hear the cameras snapping photos faster.  When Clark finally let go of me, I fell back into my seat at a complete loss for words.  Over Clark’s shoulder, I spotted a tall, dark figure approaching us from down the street and immediately began to explain.

“Harry… Harry, please, it’s not what it looked like,” I stuttered, trying to stand up from my seat, but I couldn’t.  It was as if my body was holding me down.

Harry ignored me, stormed straight up to Clark, and ripped him from his chair by the collar of his shirt.  Harry held Clark close to him with his one hand and repeatedly punched over and over and over, into Clark’s face and gut.  Blood started to run down Clark’s face and splattered on Harry’s plain, white shirt too.  No one around us reacted.  No one at the tables inside or beside us on the street even seemed to notice the fight.  I screamed louder.  “Harry!! Stop it!!”

Harry dropped Clark onto the concrete and turned to me, his nostrils flaring and his teeth grinding.  “I trusted you.  How could you do this to me???”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-“ I pleaded, still attempting to get out of my chair.  I couldn’t. 

Harry stomped toward me and bent down to wrap his arms around my chest, squeezing me tightly. “How could you do this to me?” He repeated.  “How could you do this to me, Kennedy?”

I snapped open my eyes.

It was a dream.

Harry’s arms were around me.  He was holding me tightly.  We were laying in his bed. “How could you do this to me?” He asked playfully, kissing my cheek.  I sat up and looked at what he was talking about.  In the middle of the night, I had taken all of the sheets for myself. “Sheet hog,” Harry laughed, snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me to him again so he could kiss my cheek.