The enigmatic child, Harry Styles never ceased to amuse him. He was a fickle one, always brewing up trouble then soothing it with his gifted charisma.

Only a fool would find himself fascinated while the wise would fear him. Fear his pure wildness cloaked with plastic innocence.

Though he was far from wise, Harry Styles brought along a fear so heady that he couldn't help but slave to it, to him. He saw through the plastic innocence and craved his pure wildness.

He wasn't the same again.

● ● ●

Sweat beads at my temple, did Ansel know about the key? Why is Harry here?

I toe around Ansel and move into the living room. It's bloody arse o' clock in the morning and the two people who cause my feelings and emotions and every single nerve in my body go haywire are apart only by four walls.

"Where are you slinking away to, Princess?" He demands, still sitting in the chair.

The fear I had accustomed myself to, especially around him lessens with the knowledge that Harry's out there.

My nose high in the air, I smile manically,"Just a surprise for you, from me."

I don't wait for his response, Harry Styles, my safe haven was outside the door.

My hands don't shake, they're steady even though I should be worried about Ansel and Harry being at the same place.

I pull the door open, in front of me stands Harry Styles in all of his chiseled perfection. The silver boots are back.

"Tomlinson." He opens his arms, offering me solace.

I take it, I drink and swallow everything familiar about him, the sharp hip bones, the chubby hips. Strong and soft, repentance and reward, my nothing and everything all in one body and soul.

A throat clears and I break away from Harry Styles. There's a man lingering behind Harry.

As I usher them inside, I notice Harry noticing Ansel's shoes.

"These were on your doorstep," Harry says as he dumps a bouquet of purple flowers in my hands.

"What are these?" I enquire, peering at him, confused out of my mind.

He shrugs in a way that means he knows but doesn't want to reveal them to me.

I flick the lights on, my heart sinking to my stomach. Ansel's leaning against my bedroom's doorframe.

I keep the flowers on the telly. Eyes darting between the pair.

"Harry Styles! What a pleasant surprise, Princess," He sneers, face morphing into an scowl.

The brown bloke who could only be Dev Patel-eyes me with a concealed grin.

Ansel and Harry are giving each other strained smiles. One more ugly than the other. I am the prey of one and the prize of another.

"My name is Dev Patel, yes I'd love some tea, thank you Mr. Tomlinson for offering!" Dev claps his hands together, loud and clear.

I flip him off. "You're not my guest, want some tea, go get it yourself. I'm not offering you any."

"We could talk over tea," he reasons.

"Always so rude, Princess."

"One more time you call him that, you'll have a mouth full of your own teeth," Harry snarls, a silver clad finger pointed at Ansel.

I groan in the kitchen. What is even this mess?

I reach up into the shelves and stick the kettle on. My heart was still sunken. My stomach flips, Ansel and Harry Styles, together five feet apart with no one to interrupt in case of a brawl.

"Need any help?" Dev materialises behind me and I nod.

I'm tired and want to cuddle Harry Styles and sleep until noon.

Pouring water in two of the four cups, I turn to Dev,"The milk's in the freezer. Tiffy or Miffy?"

He cocks an eyebrow,"Miffy. Is there any other way to take it?"

I wrinkle my nose at him and carry the two cups to the living room. "H, be a dear and get the sugar."

Ansel outstretches his arm, thinking the tea is for him. It's not. I hand Harry his cup and he gives me a smile.

Wretched dimples.

As I take Harry's place on the sofa, my eyes linger on the purple flowers.

"Those are hydrangeas," Dev's voice says making me jump.

I turn to him, Ansel had moved to the kitchen, if the curses shared betwixt Harry Styles and him are any indication.

"Why did you bail out Harry Styles?" I blurt out unable to keep quiet anymore.

A reluctant smile spreads over his lips.

"Let me tell you something- I never knew who Harry Styles was until Liam Payne rang me."

I grip his arm, my eyes wide and unblinking,"Liam Payne as in the officer?"

He nods solemnly. I let go of his hand and gesture with my own.

"Why?" The tea in my hand spills and I curse out loud,"Fuckin' hell. Can't anyone do something without fifteen other motherfuckers sticking their noses in?"

Ansel bumbles back into the room, Harry balancing his cup and sugar in the other. Their eyebrows rise at my words.

"Tell me more," I demand, brushing off their stares.

Dev uncomfortably clears his throat. His lips are pressed together, he takes a minute and dumps atleast three cubes of sugar in the sickly sweet tea.

I scrunch up my nose at him.

He squirms and gets comfortable, Ansel and Harry shoot each other daggers and I mourn my spilt tea.

"Liam Payne is one of the most honest and renowned Officers in the department. Approximately four days ago, I got a call from him, asking for a favour," He pauses to take a sip of the concoction he calls tea.

Already fragile up in the head, I set my cup down and reach for a hydrangea. Crushing it in my hands I motion for him to continue.

"So," he clears his throat. "When I agreed and stopped by at the station, he told me to pretend that I was that Bambi's lawyer."

Harry Styles makes the most possible disgruntled kitten noise at it.

My head pounds, the information swirling around. Liam Payne what even is he.

"And I agreed to it, partly because he-" points at Harry Styles who looks embarrassed and continues. "-looked hopeless and guilty."

I bristle at the thought of it all. "So the hearing isn't real?"

"It is real. The complaint even though is forged, the assault is real and there are a few officers who've seen Harry kicking him..." he trails off.

Instinctively I seek out for Harry. "Thought you never cared about me Styles," I tease, eyes wet.

He returns an easy smile,"I didn't. He called my boots ugly and too girly."

"That wasn't the reason and you both know it damn well."

Silence falls over us. Dev's eyes drift among us, they finally settle on me.

I focus on the wilted flower in my palm. Purple meant love at first sight. But what did purple hydrangeas mean was a mystery to me.

A minute spent on Google will give me the answer but the others have come with an explanation.

"Mr. Tomlinson the two days I spent with Styles has given me a lot of erm insight about your relationship with the man over there. I want to ask you one thing," Dev rushes, hesitation lacing itself into his words.

"Shoot."

"What do the colours mean?" He asks.

Harry Styles finds my eyes and I give him a manic grin.

Wouldn't you like to know.

• • •

yeah kind of a double update for me as it's not the next day yet. I am keeping no promise of a chapter tomorrow.