Whatever Chains (Sequel to Where Your Heart is - A Harry Styles fanfiction)

As I was getting closer to Cheshire the excitement began to transform into this anxiety that, by the time I found her house and turned off the engine, felt like a giant monster sitting on my chest.

I am still in the car and it is getting colder by the second, so I should probably get out and knock on that door already.

But I don't move. Instead I just keep gripping tightly at the wheel, like there's a part of me that is actually considering the possibility of going back to where I came from.

I have never done this before, and the fact that I want it to go perfectly is causing the pressure to pile up on the already heavy weight perched upon me.

It is ridiculous how I just keep having all these stupid second thoughts; like I should have maybe picked some fancy red wine instead of Scotch, or an entirely different outfit. Definitely, I should've worn better shoes.

"Hey!"

I only realize that she's standing there when I hear a few soft knocks on the rolled up window, and I jump.

She's bending forward, clutching her coat to keep it closed, and looking at me with a furrowed brow. I stare at her for a moment, and then she walks around the car and tries to get in.

"Open the door, would you?" She says, loud enough for me to hear her, and I unlock the door.

She quickly slides in, slamming the door shut before rubbing her hands together to warm them up.

"Hi..." I say timidly, as if she just caught me in the middle of something, and she looks at me. "I was about to get out."

"Liar." She says with a smile on her face that strangely manages to ease my mind in a second regardless of her acussation. "I saw you coming through the driveway fifteen minutes ago. What's up?"

I glance in her direction but I quickly divert, shrugging nonchalantly as if I have no idea what she's talking about. But she gives me a soft punch on the arm, urging me to talk.

"I'm freaking out, alright?" I blurt, and it sounds like I am confessing that truth to myself rather than to her. "What if they hate me? What if I say or do the wrong thing and they decide that I'm not worthy."

I guess I was expecting her to laugh at my concerns, rushing to reassure me that they are totally unfounded and irrational, and that is why that heaviness grows back on my chest when she doesn't.

"Look, we are the only ones that get to decide that." She says with a serious tone. "You and I. Not even the gods above. Pun intended."

"What?" I ask her, knowing that there's a less poetic reason as to why she is saying that. "What is it?"

She tells me about her father and his reaction, and although she is doing her best to make it sound funny, I am definitely not laughing.

"So basically, he hates me." I synthesize, and she snorts.

"He doesn't hate you, Harry." She hurries to say. "And even if he did, is not like you haven't changed other people's mind about you before. He just has to know you, replace that twisted version he has of you with the real one."

I nod lazily, suddenly saddened by the fact that she is so right, and having people misjudging me is pretty much a common currency in the story of my life. Pun very much intended.