All in all the kinship they formed was enviable. It was a strange mix of rambunctiousness, contagious laughter and intriguing quietness. It worked so seamlessly, the spectators unable to comprehend the magnitude to the bond they shared with each other.

Neither did he understand the extent of it, until they were parted. Even then, unbidden, their souls were seeking out each other in the most miniscule of ways.

Be it the flutter of lashes or the teeth sunk into lips before spelling out each other's name.

● ● ●

I'm sitting in front of Liam Payne, my own cup of tea sitting between my legs.

He raises his brows at me and sits on the creaking chair. "How may I help you, Mr. Tomlinson?"

I squirm and peer at him. He looks innocent and clueless enough.

"I need to know who was the brown bloke who bailed out Harry Styles."

He sneers at me,"I don't know him and even if I did, I'm not allowed to tell you."

I lean back into the chair and propose a deal,"I'll tell you what is Harry Styles to me, if you'll tell me who's the lawyer."

His mouth twitches, he rubs his temple, then says,"Today 5pm, your flat. You tell me the tale I'll tell you the name."

"Why not now, right now?" I shoot back and watch emotions flicker on his face.

He leans in, answers in a whisper that is far too secretive,"I might get in trouble for what I'll be revealing to you, Tomlinson."

"Is it that secretive Officer Payne?" I retort, my own elbows red and mouth straining.

He gives me a knowing, all to smug, smirk. He has the audacity to wink and purr,"You wouldn't imagine what I know, Mr. Tomlinson."

Red isn't beauty or love, it's hatred for me, Princess. You're red not Blue.

Those words play in my mind. My eyes keep lingering on the red Dahlias.

There's a post it on the door. For betrayals and dishonesty I've shown.

It is written in green ink, scribbles from previous notes visible. The indents are a remainder of my own self.

I pick one single red Dahlia and throw the rest in the bin, strip my clothes and fill the tub, too tired to stand upright in the shower. I didn't have the strength.

At five fifteen, two cups of awkward tea later, Officer Payne or as he ever so generously permitted that I could call him Liam, we sit down to talk.

I keep my eyes on the lone red flower. I pinch at the petals.

"It was on our second anniversary, Ansel and I decided to move here, to Manchester. Just us. My mum had passed away a year before that. I was the only child, my step dad and I got along only cos of me mum. After her death, we didn't bother keeping contact.

Our then neighbour was Niall. He and Zayn became good mates of mine. A year after we moved here—" I stop, the onslaught of memories tightening my throat.

I swallow the lump and continue,"A year after Zayn moved out due to reason that don't concern you. Couple days later, Harry Styles moved in with Niall.

Harry and I got on very well. He was the only one whom I opened up to."

"'Bout what?" Liam's eyes are hard and unyielding.

"The colours. I told him about the colours." I give him the half true answer.

Before further interruption I ramble,"Ansel didn't like our friendship. Or whatever that weird ambiguity we had. Harry Styles never liked being told what to do. Yet somehow I managed to get him to twirl to my tune.

There are things I'd not reveal as much as they're mine, they're his too. I told him red, the night before he straightened Ansel with those black boots of his."

Liam still has that pinched brow and wrinkled face he makes whenever I'm around. I stand up and throw away the ruined Dahlia. Making another cup of tea to calm myself, I bite my healing lip in an attempt to not cry for Harry Styles.

My enigma.

I bring the kettle and sugar to the living room and gently place them on the cherry wood table that had a chip in the corner.

Liam takes lot of sugar in his tea.

He clears his throat,"Styles and you were never romantically involved?"

"That's personal and I'm not going to answer that," I firmly say, taking a sip of the tea.

Liam shrugs and reveals,"Never mind. I did some snooping and Styles' lawyer was a man called Dev Patel. He's a damn good lawyer."

Dev. Harry Styles was sure to end me.

I let out a hoarse scream. I figure out one thing and another mystery arises.

Liam gives me more,"His next court hearing is in three days. He's MIA. Most probably he'll get away unless Ansel turns up with a lawyer of his own."

I softly say,"He won't win. Harry has more under his belt than Ansel. He's a fucking charmer. Ansel is not even worth the dirt of his shoe."

Liam gets agitated, squirms too much and keeps casting glances at the clock. He scratches behind his ear, picks at his nails.

As he gets comfortable in his skin, I skim over everything I know.

The flowers mystery was almost solved, unless Harry Styles deemed me and my life easy and boring enough to send flowers. The lawyer mystery wouldn't make sense till Dev himself is in front of me.

As for Ansel's location, I couldn't care less.

I replay our, meaning Harry and I's conversation the night before he went to jail.

"You're always blue, Louis. Sad and longing. I want you to be white. Serene and peaceful. I'll bring you white." he had kissed my forehead, my lips later.

I had laid my head on his chest, willing myself to not feel content with his heartbeat.

One question pops up in my mind.

"Officer Payne?"

"Yes?"

"How do you know Ansel? I never mentioned he was my boyfriend." Suspicions arise in me.

Pink cheeks and salty tears flood my mind.

Don't be so foolish, Princess. You're not so smart.

He tries to deny it but there's no use.

"You knew him, didn't you?" I press, my eyes trained on the man in front of me.

He gives up, the denial crumbling away.

"I knew Ansel, we grew up together. Before his family moved to the States, when he came back, we talked. He mentioned you. A lot. He would talk about you for ages and would complain about Harry Styles," Liam explains.

"He didn't file a complaint, did he? You did it. He was gone before Harry could be out. You just meddled with our lives because that asshole was your friend!" I feel rage bubbling in me. Along with the rage was tiredness.

I was exhausted. The mess took a toll on me.

Liam's shoulders slump, with shame or fatigue I don't bother to mull over.

Tears rush to my eyes, painful memories pressing against my lids. "You don't know how many lives your so called friend and my fucking boyfriend has ruined. He ruined me. The only person whom I ever trusted after Ansel has left me and it's all your doing, Liam. Harry's my everything, he's everything I have left in me."

"You could've left him when he hurt you so much, Louis! Don't throw the blame on me. You could've gained help. You could've left him. But you didn't, you were a coward. And even now you'll cry about not having Harry by your side but will do nothing to search for him!" Liam roars and the truth behind those words hurt me.

Princess, you are my pretty little princess. I am the only one who will love you so much.

I sit rocking myself back and forth after Liam leaves. My mind keeps bringing up the kiss. The one Harry and I shared, tucked away from the world, on our knees in the dusty attic with cobwebs looming over us.

For once in the longest time ever, purple didn't seem vile and red didn't seem so dishonest.

I hide myself under the sheets, holding onto the faint wisps of Harry in my heart.

I feel a pair of hands on my ankles. My eyes shoot open, burning and I let out a yelp. In the darkness I cannot make out the intruder, there's only a silhouette.