Ready to Run - Harry Styles AU

Jamie was reckless. She didn't care anymore. About anything. Anything and everything was overrated in her opinion. One night of vandalizing the car of a certain Styles sets her life into the rollercoaster of emotions she desperately wanted to avoid. It's only starting to ascend the first hill. *TRIGGER WARNING*


8. Chapter 8

Harry's POV

I had brought Jamie to my house, as she couldn't remember her address. We sat on the couch, me listening to her rambling on about random stuff. I watched her with interest as she spilled out her life stories, no filter between her brain and her mouth anymore.

Suddenly, from all those laughs and snorts, she turned serious. Gazing at me with wide and earnest eyes, she said, "I'm going to tell you something, okay? It's very serious and sometimes I get very, very, very sad thinking about it."

I closed my eyes and took a sharp breath. God, I wanted to know it so bad. This was my chance! But I knew she would never reveal these things if she was sober, and it was unfair to take advantage of someone like this.

"No. Don't tell me."

She gave me a puzzled expression. "Why?"

"If you still want to tell me tomorrow morning, I'll listen."

"But why not now?"

She was making it really hard to resist temptation.

"Because this isn't nice of me," I explained.

I cupped her cheek and ran my thumb in strokes across her smooth skin. She leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed. I felt her soft breaths against my wrist and I almost gave in. I scooted closer and wrapped my arm around her petit waist, pulled her closer to me in the process. Her head rested on my shoulder. She sighed, almost blissfully, yet there was still something depressing in it.

"Goodnight, Harry," she mumbled.

I tenderly kissed the top of her head. "Sweet dreams."


Before I knew it, the sun was already shining in the sky. I had fallen asleep on the couch with Jamie on top of me. We were pretty much spooning. I lifted her off of me, careful not to wake her up. She was better off sleeping for the day. Her hangover would be horrible. Me, on the other hand, only had a mild headache that I could barely feel if I focused on something else. I carried her to her room. Then I prepared pills and a glass of water for her, also adding a trash can next to the bed in case she couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.

After taking a long and hot shower, I put on a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. I quickly ran a comb through my hair a few times. Having short hair was so much easier to maintain than long hair. I ate dry cereal for breakfast, too lazy to add milk.

From downstairs, I heard what sounded like a soft groan mixed with a whimper. I climbed the stairs and knocked on her door.

"Come in," a weak voice called.

"Hey," I greeted.

She gave a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Hey."

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think, Curly?"

"You don't look so good."

There were dark circles under her eyes, plus the makeup that got smeared all over her face, making her look like a racoon. She was pale and looked like it took her a lot of effort to even move a limb.

"How are you not like me?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Because I didn't drink 12 shots." I smirked.

"Shut up," she muttered. Down she went for a round of puking.

I took long strides toward her. I picked up the pills and gave it to her. She gladly took it, swallowing them with a huge gulp of water.

"Don't come near me," she ordered. "My breath stinks."

I laughed at that. "I didn't know you had any insecurities."

"You don't know a lot about me."

It brought me back to yesterday night. I could've gotten that 'very serious' secret. I was starting to regret my decision now.

"I bet I don't. So why don't you tell me?"


"I'll keep you to that. Do you want breakfast?"

"No thanks-"

"A full English breakfast it is!"

"Harry, I can't eat that much-"

I bent down to plant a kiss on her forehead. "It's okay, love. You just stay here. I'll take care of the rest."

Before she could protest any further, I was already out the door. I made toast, over medium eggs, bacon, sausage, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms, baked beans, and black pudding. I must've had the ingredients from the last time I made this, because otherwise, I had no taste for black pudding. 

Jamie's hair was damp, her makeup was off, and her clothes were changed into one of my outfits.

"Did you just...?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "You took a long time and I was dirty."

"Well you try cooking this and see if you can beat my time."

"If I tried cooking that, I'd set the kitchen on fire."


She sat up and scooted over so I could join her, rolling her eyes. I gave her the plate and she said a thanks before nibbling at the food. I told her about last night: how she got extremely drunk and almost hooked up with a random dude, and how I took her here and she told me about her past. I payed close attention to her expression when I said that last part, and she almost looked... scared and angry. Anger to cover up the fear.

I continued. "But then you said something about telling me an important and serious secret. I knew you probably wouldn't tell me it if you were sober and I didn't want to invade your privacy so... I stopped you. And then you fell asleep."

Her face immediately softened. A part of me hoped that she would tell me it now, though the reasonable side told me there was no chance. I was disappointed when my reasonable side was right.

"Did you at least enjoy my stories?" she snickered.

"Yes, actually. They were very interesting. Especially that one where you were stealing grapes from a neighbour's backyard with a group of friends and the guy chased after you and you fell and cracked your head."

"That hurt," she protested.

"What did your parents say?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. "I told them I got peer pressured. But they grounded me. Little did they know my boyfriend had a handy dandy ladder."

"You have a boyfriend?" I asked, not even caring about anything else she said. It didn't bother me much, but I'd admit I was a bit annoyed.

"Oh, sorry. Ex-boyfriend."

The fist that was clenching my heart let go and I nearly breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't like Jamie, at least, not in that way. It was just because of curiosity that I felt like this. It was unfair to mix interest and crush, because if it was just interest, the other person would get hurt once you've decided you're satisfied with the answers you've got and break up with them. 

We stayed like that for a bit before I needed to get rid of the everlasting silence.

"What did Barack Obama say to Michelle when he proposed?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I don't want to be Obama self anymore."

She thought it over, blinking a few times. Then she burst out laughing. It was a bubbly laugh with happiness overpowering the heaviness that was usually included. This laugh was more beautiful than any of her other ones. It was the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard. I wanted to hear her laugh a laugh of pure happiness. That would probably be heaven. 

I grinned.

When she finally calmed down, she said, "That was amazing."

I wasn't sure if she was talking about her fit of laughter or the joke. I decided to take it as the joke, since I didn't know what I'd say if she was talking about the other thing.

"You're probably one of the first to actually like my jokes," I chuckled.

She placed her breakfast on the bedside table (she only finished one piece of bacon and one slice of toast) and slid closer to me. My heart skipped a beat when she wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in the crook of my neck. I moved her onto my lap and returned the hug. This totally made up for that time when she ran away from my arms.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered.

Her hot breath hit my neck, making me shiver.

"I didn't do anything."

She didn't reply, but instead tightened her embrace.

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