Different Frequencies- Part III (Harry Styles!Au x autistic!reader)
Series Synopsis- College heartthrob and football captain Harry Styles needs extra credit to survive the year. His only shot? Mentoring Y/N, a brilliant but blunt autistic student who couldn’t care less about his charm. What starts as an obligation soon sparks something neither of them expected.
A/N:- Most awaited Part 3! Please like and reblog if you like it, and here's the link to Part 1 and Part 2 if you haven't checked those out yet. Now gear up for lots of soft fluff!
Warnings: Talks of abuse, mild violence.
Word count: 6,043
_________________________________
The soft buzz of chatter and the clink of dice filled the air, mingling with the scent of melted cheese, warm chocolate, and too many fizzy drinks. The Game Den, a cozy corner café was a haven for people who liked their socializing with a side of strategy and snacks.
y/n was in her element.
Curled into the corner booth, she arranged her game tokens with careful precision, sleeves tugged halfway over her palms. Her eyes scanned the board like it was a puzzle only she could decode, and she looked completely at peace doing it. The golden glow from the overhead fairy lights caught the curve of her smile as Zayn cracked open another can of soda beside her.
Harry, on the other hand, looked like he’d wandered into a high-level math exam by accident.
“Okay, so, if I land here,” he said, pointing to a space marked with a tiny wizard hat and a skull, “do I fight the goblin, or summon a storm?”
y/n tried to hold back a laugh and failed. “No! That’s the negotiation tile.”
“The what now?”
Zayn grinned, sliding a card toward him. “You barter with the next player. If they roll a five or higher, they get your amulet. If you roll a six, you steal their spellbook.”
Harry blinked. “This is illegal. I’m reporting both of you.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong.,” y/n said, wondering what made him say that. Then it slowly clicks. “Wait..that was a joke, right?”
“Yes, Cherry, it was a joke.”, Harry grins, poking her nose and her cheeks tint a little red.
“You already signed the wizard code, by the way.”
“I what?”
She giggled, and the sound, soft, sudden, real, hit Harry like warm sunlight through stained glass. He didn’t care that he was losing miserably. He didn’t care that he had absolutely no clue what the rules were. She was laughing, and for the first time in days, she looked light again. Not floating, but steady. Present.
They played for two hours, switching games mid-way and half-finishing a plate of curly fries while Zayn waged war against the soda machine and Harry tried to convince Y/N that his strategy of “vibes only” would eventually pay off.
It didn’t.
When their energy mellowed and their fingers were sticky from too much candy, they found themselves in the quiet back booth, arms brushing now and then as they leaned in over the table.
“Leah told me everything’s fine,” Y/N said softly, her voice different now, flattened, quiet. Her eyes didn’t lift from her drink.
Zayn, halfway through a caramel pretzel, froze.
“She actually said that?” he asked, wiping his fingers on a napkin.
Y/N nodded. “She said he didn’t mean it. That he just gets angry sometimes. That he loves her.”
Harry’s stomach twisted. He pushed his fries away, appetite gone. “That’s bullshit.”
“Harry,” Zayn warned gently, but the sharpness in Harry’s eyes didn’t fade.
“No, I mean it. Darren’s a dick. I’ve seen the way he talks to people. He’s a walking red flag. The guy’s had three warnings already this semester from Coach.”
“Yeah, but warnings about his attitude in practice,” Zayn pointed out. “That’s not the same as this.”
“He’s dangerous,” Harry muttered. “All I need is something solid to get him off the team. Just one reason.”
y/n looked down at her hands, quiet. “But Leah doesn’t want to report anything. She says it’s her choice.”
“It is,” Zayn said gently. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do something.”
“I can talk to Darren, it’s probably end in a fight but if I can get him to-”
“-No, no fights.”, y/n cuts Harry off and Harry nods, pressing his lips together. “Then you just have to get through to Leah..any other ideas?”
“We could keep an eye out for any other abusive instances.”, Zayn says.
The evening began to wind down as other patrons started clearing their tables, folding boards, and placing cards back into boxes with reluctant goodbyes. Someone flicked the lights above the café door, a subtle nudge that it was almost closing time.
y/n stretched her arms over her head with a small yawn, the kind she tried to hide behind her sleeve.
Harry smiled at the sight.
“You okay?” he asked, sliding the empty fry basket to the side.
She nodded. “Tired, but… yeah. This was good.”
Zayn stood, brushing crumbs from his hoodie. “We should do it again. Maybe next week?”
y/n turned to Harry, uncertain. “Would you… come again?”
He raised his eyebrows, mock serious. “Even after getting destroyed by the ‘Wizard’s Union of Honor and Card-Stealing’? I’d be honored.”
She laughed again, softer now. Her shoulders didn’t look so tense anymore.
As they walked out into the cool evening, the sidewalk quiet under their feet, Zayn had parked the car somewhere at the back, he ran off saying he’d go get it and pull up. That left just Y/N and Harry.
They stood near the curb for a beat, neither quite ready to say goodbye.
“So,” Harry said, rocking back on his heels a little. “We’ve officially eaten our weight in carbs and lost all sense of board game logic. Want to take it to the next level?”
Y/N blinked at him, confused again.
He grinned. “Come to my game. Day after, evening. Home match. You don’t have to stay long if it’s too much, but..I'd really like it if you were there.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “You want me to come watch you play?”
“I do,” he said, more gently this time. “It’s loud, yeah. But I can save you a seat. Somewhere quieter. You’d be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”
She hesitated, not out of fear, but out of surprise.
Then, after a second, she gave a tiny nod. “Okay. I’ll try.”
His smile broke slowly across his face, wider than he intended, and warmer than he could hide.
“Good,” he said. “It’s a date.”
She looked up sharply, eyes wide again.
He backpedaled instantly. “I mean, not a date date. Unless you want it to be? Or we could pretend I didn’t say that. Up to you.”
Y/N bit her lip, hiding another smile. “Okay.”
“Okay, okay or okay to ignore it?”
She turned and started walking toward the dorms, her voice drifting behind her like a ribbon. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Styles.”
Harry stood there a second longer, watching her disappear down the sidewalk, heart doing something stupid in his chest.
Then he exhaled, shoved his hands in his pockets, and grinned at the empty street.
_____________________________________________
The squeak of sneakers and the sharp echo of bouncing balls filled the gym. Whistles blew. Sweat dripped. The energy was off.
And Harry felt it crawling under his skin.
Darren was playing like the court belonged to him. Hogging the ball, ignoring plays, showboating with unnecessary spins, and shooting from angles that made zero sense.
“Pass it, Darren!” Harry barked as he ran for an opening.
Darren ignored him and launched a wild three-pointer that hit the rim and bounced hard off the backboard.
Missed. Again.
“That fucking shithead.”, Nate groaned, the rest of the players murmuring curses as well.
Coach blew the whistle. Hard.
“Enough!” he snapped. “We play as a team or we don’t play at all.”
Harry clenched his jaw. His fists were already twitching. Not just because of the selfish play, but because every time he looked at Darren, all he could hear was y/n’s voice from last night.
He didn’t mean it. He loves her…
Bullshit.
“Get it together,” Coach growled, throwing Darren a sharp look. “One more screw-up and you’re benched for game day.”
Darren muttered something under his breath and jogged to the bench, sulking like a child.
“Harry?” Harry realizes Nate was talking to him and unclenches his fists, slowly moving his gaze away from Darren. “I was saying how coach himself will throw him out soon if he keeps this up.”
“I hope he does.”, Harry mumbles. The only reason why Darren was still in the team was because he is a good player. Doesn’t miss the basket often. Only if he gets in his head too much.
Practice ended ten minutes early. Coach stormed off and the players scattered.
“Not coming mate?”, Nate asks him as Harry head’s towards the locker room. “I’ll catch up, you get going.”
Harry stayed back, and so did Darren.
The locker room was nearly empty when Harry finally walked in, towel over his neck, sweat still cooling on his back.
Darren was at his locker, shirtless, humming like nothing happened. Harry didn’t wait.
He slammed his locker shut with a loud bang that echoed through the room.
Darren didn’t flinch. Just smirked over his shoulder. “Problem, Captain?”
Harry stepped in close, voice low but sharp. “You’re done. One more stunt, one more attitude, and I’m taking it to Coach. All of it.”
Darren raised an eyebrow. “What’s all of it, huh?”
Harry stared him down. “You and Leah. I know.”
Darren scoffed. “You know nothing.”
“I know enough.”
There was a moment of silence, heavy and charged. Then Darren turned around fully, tossing a shirt over his shoulder as he sneered.
“Oh, wait. This is about that little weirdo you’ve been babysitting, isn’t it?”
Harry’s jaw tensed.
Darren leaned in mockingly. “She got you wrapped around her quiet little fingers? I saw her, all twitchy and awkward. Speaks so damn slow and looks like she’s in play school still. Heard she’s quite stupid and hopeless. Freaks like that are easy to-”
Crack.
The punch came before Harry could think. It landed hard, knuckles against jaw, skin against bone.
Darren staggered back, hitting the locker door behind him.
“Say her name again,” Harry snarled, his voice shaking with fury. “Go ahead. I dare you.”
Darren wiped blood from the corner of his lip, staring up at him. His cocky grin was gone now. “You just screwed yourself.”
Harry didn’t back down. “No. You did. And if I hear anything about you putting your hands on Leah again, or so much as breathing in y/n’s direction, I will make it my entire mission to make sure you lose everything. Team, scholarship, reputation, everything.”
Darren glared, chest heaving.
Harry turned and walked out before he could throw another punch. His heart was still pounding, but not from adrenaline.
It was rage.
____________________________________________
A half-empty coffee cup sat forgotten beside Harry’s open textbook, and he hadn’t turned a page in fifteen minutes.
y/n noticed.
She sat across from him, legs tucked under the chair, her pencil tapping lightly against the edge of her notes. She tilted her head slightly, studying him, noticing the way he kept drumming his fingers on the table, how his eyes kept flicking to the window like something outside was pulling at him.
“You’re not reading,” she said quietly, touching the tip of the pencil to his nose.
Harry blinked, startled out of his thoughts. “Huh?”
“You’ve looked at the same sentence four times.”
He dropped his gaze and gave a sheepish shrug. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… got a lot on my mind.”
She hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Is something wrong?”
He looked up at her then, her eyes soft and searching, and immediately felt bad for not being fully there.
“No. Nothing’s wrong. I think I’m just… nervous. Big game tonight.”
Y/N nodded slowly, accepting the explanation, though she didn’t entirely buy it. Still, she didn’t push.
Instead, she smiled a little. “I’ve never been to a basketball game before.”
That caught his attention.
His lips quirked into a grin. “Seriously?”
She shook her head. “Not even one. I don’t know the rules. Or… where to look.”
Harry leaned back in his chair, suddenly amused and more relaxed than he’d been all morning. “Alright, well… it’s not rocket science.”
“Zayn has said that to me before. He said the same for social cues, and it’s not true.,” she rambled.
He laughed and the tension in his shoulders finally began to ease.
“Fair point,” he said, grinning. “Okay, let’s do a crash course.”
He pulled his notebook toward him and drew a rough outline of a court. “This is the hoop. You want the ball to go in the hoop. Not rocket science. We’ve got five players on each team. Two guards, two forwards, and a center.”
“You?”
“Me? I’m point guard. I run the plays. Set up passes. Kind of like the guy with the map.”
“So you’re the map guy.”
“Exactly. Except if the map guy is also yelling and sweating and trying not to get elbowed in the ribs.”
She leaned forward, chin resting on her hand. “Is it dangerous?”
“Nah, I’ll stay safe.”, he smiles, leaning towards her too.
“I’ll be honest,” she said, voice softer now, “I’m a little scared. The noise. The crowd.”
“I get that,” he said gently. “I’ll save you a seat near the front, by the benches. It’s not as loud there. Less people. Coach will be cool with it.”
Her eyes flicked up to his, grateful.
“I’ll be okay,” she said, more to herself than him.
“I’ll make sure of it,” he promised, without hesitation. He reached out to gently tuck away a strand of her hair that came out of her side braid, behind her ear. y/n just smiled but her heart beat just a little faster at his soft gesture.
“Green.”, she whispered, her focus shifting.
“What’s that, Cherry?”, Harry watches as her eyes focus on his, which rarely happens.
“Your eyes, green like the forest. There’s gold too, like..like sunlight and the left one has more brown around the iris.”
Her brain panicked a little, maybe she made things weird and said too much. She quickly looked down. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be, I think about yours too.”, Harry mumbled and his gentle, warm fingers grab her chin and tilt it up so she looks at him again. “They’re soft. Quiet, but not dull. Like they’re always thinking ten layers deeper than what you say out loud. You know, even if it’s for a few seconds, I love it when you give me your eyes, Cherry.”
She took a few seconds to process what he meant and when she did, she felt warmth unfurl in her chest. And she was still maintaining her eye contact with him, his green eyes staying still too.
She realized that she was starting to trust him. With her words, and with her eyes.
______________________________
y/n stood in front of her bedroom mirror, staring at herself like she wasn’t quite sure who she was tonight.
It was just a basketball game.
Except it wasn’t.
It was his game. And she was going for him.
She tugged at the sleeves of her soft navy sweater and smoothed her jeans, mentally checking the list of things she needed. Fidget cube. Water bottle. Small weighted lap pad folded into her tote bag, just in case. She didn’t know what the bleachers would feel like. Or how loud it might be. But she was going. Because he asked.
A quiet knock came at her door, and then her mom peeked in. “You look great, honey.”
y/n turned, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s not… too much?”
Her mom smiled. “It’s just right. He’s going to love seeing you there.”
She blushed. “It’s not..it’s not a date.”
Her mom raised an eyebrow. “Mm-hmm.”
Before she could protest, a honk sounded from outside.
“Zayn,” she muttered.
Her mom pulled her into a hug before she left. “Be safe. Text me when you get there. And after. And if you need to come home early—”
“I know,” y/n said softly. “I’ve got it.”
And strangely… she really felt like she did.
Zayn had music playing low, one hand on the wheel and a smug grin on his face.
“So,” he said, after five whole minutes of silence, “are you gonna tell me what you’re wearing under that sweater, or do I have to assume it’s ‘I heart Harry’ merch?”
She groaned. “Zayn—”
“I mean, I get it,” he teased. “Hot basketball guy? You? Mentorship turned romance? It’s giving a YA novel realness.”
She turned her face toward the window, biting back a reluctant smile. “It’s not a date.”
He snorted. “He invited you to his game, is sitting you front row, probably gonna win MVP while looking at you dramatically mid-free throw… Yeah, alright. Not a date.”
She sighed, cheeks hot. “You’re annoying.”
“Extremely. Also, if he so much as breathes wrong near you, I’m throwing hands. Don’t care how pretty he is.”
y/n laughed quietly, and Zayn’s smile softened at the sound.
“You okay, though?” he asked more gently. “We don’t have to stay the whole time.”
“I think I’m okay,” she said. “I want to try.”
And she did.
The moment they walked into the gym, the shift hit her like a wave. Lights. Noise. Movement. A dull roar of voices. The smell of popcorn and sweat and the sharp echo of basketballs bouncing.
y/n’s fingers found her tote bag instinctively, grounding herself.
And then she saw him.
Harry.
He was already walking toward them, towel slung around his neck, jersey half untucked, curls wild and damp with pre-game sweat. The second his eyes landed on her, his face changed, lit up in a way she’d never quite seen before.
“You made it,” he said, a little breathless. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she managed, voice soft.
Zayn gave Harry a look, protective and unreadable. Harry gave him a polite nod, then turned his full attention back to Y/N.
“I saved you a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the far side, near the team bench. “It’s quieter over there. You’re not too close to the student section.”
As they walked, he pulled something from behind his back. “Also… got these for you.”
Noise cancelling headphones. And it was a baby pink shade.
“I figured it might get loud,” he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice held a nervous edge. “And uh, I also brought those chewy mints you like. For, you know. Sensory stuff. Read that it helps.”
She stared at him.
“I just wanted to make it easier,” he said, quieter now.
For a long second, she didn’t speak. Just stood there, heart doing strange and sudden things.No one had ever done that for her before. She didn’t know what to say, so she just gave a tiny nod and mouthed, thank you.
His smile returned, softer, just for her.
“I have to go warm up,” he said reluctantly, already backing away. “But I’ll see you after, yeah?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
He turned, jogged a few steps, then looked back, just once. Like he had to make sure she was still there.
_______________________________________
Harry reached the bench, jaw tight again.
Because he felt it.
Eyes.
Darren.
Sitting just across the court, lacing his sneakers with a slow, mocking smirk on his face. He was watching Harry, like he knew something.
Like he was waiting.
Harry’s fists clenched.
He didn’t care if he threw another punch tonight. Didn’t care if it cost him the game. The season.
But if Darren so much as looked at y/n the wrong way-
He’d bury him.
He scanned the crowd one more time, just to be sure. And there she was, settling into her seat beside Zayn. But something else made his stomach twist.
Leah.
Sitting only a few seats down from Y/N, alone.
Too close.
Harry tore his eyes away and jogged back toward the huddle, trying to shake it off.
Focus. Play. Win.
And after that?
He’d deal with Darren. One way or another.
The gym was electric.
Music pumped through the speakers. Students screamed in waves. Sneakers squeaked across the polished floor. The scoreboard buzzed as the numbers climbed. Harry’s team was holding the lead, but barely.
Y/N sat near the bench with Zayn beside her, hands pressed against the warm cup of cocoa he’d insisted on getting her from the vending machine outside. Her headphones dulled the roar of the crowd to something distant, like waves crashing behind thick glass. She breathed easier because of it.
But she was still watching him.
Harry.
Number 7.
He moved across the court like he belonged to it. Fast, sharp, focused. But every few minutes, after a pass, a rebound, or a timeout, his eyes found her again. Quick glances. Like silent check-ins. She didn’t know how he always knew where she was, but he did.
“Damn,” a girl a few rows behind her giggled to her friend, loud enough to hear through one ear cup. “Is it just me or is Harry Styles actually looking over here?”
y/n smiled faintly.
He was.
But not at them.
She didn’t need to turn around to feel their curious stares. She just lowered her eyes to the cocoa again, her fingers curling a little tighter around the cup.
She didn’t need to say anything.
She knew.
The buzzer rang and players jogged off the court toward the locker rooms. The gym roared around them, full of cheers and music, and Zayn got up to stretch.
“I’ll grab you a protein bar,” he said, heading toward concessions.
y/n gave a small nod.
She didn’t notice Leah until she was already beside her.
“Hey.”
The voice made her turn, and the tone made her stomach twist.
Leah looked pale, too thin, her hands shaking slightly as she folded her arms over her chest. Her makeup was smudged in the corner of one eye. She didn’t look like someone enjoying a basketball game.
She looked like someone trying not to fall apart.
y/n sat up straighter. “Leah… are you—”
“You need to stop,” Leah cut in quickly, eyes darting around. “This thing you’re doing. Trying to tell people something’s wrong.”
y/n froze.
“He didn’t do anything,” Leah said, too fast, too rehearsed. “We’re good. We’ve worked things out. You misunderstood.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did,” Leah insisted, voice a little louder now. “Just… drop it, okay? I know you think you’re helping, but you’re not. You’re making it worse.”
And there it was.
y/n could see it. In Leah’s trembling hands. The way her eyes never met hers. The small flinch when a loud whistle echoed across the gym.
He’d threatened her.
y/n’s heart ached.
“Did Darren tell you to say that?” she asked quietly.
Leah blinked hard, jaw tightening. “Just leave us alone. Please.”
And before Y/N could say anything, she was gone. She was distracted for the rest of the game, repeatedly running the conversation with Leah in her head, her body cues, her tone, everything.
The buzzer blared, the crowd roared, and just like that it was over.
Victory.
Harry’s team had won.
Confetti cannons went off somewhere near the student section (probably Niall’s idea), and people were flooding the court before the players could even make it to the benches. Teammates clapped Harry on the back, ruffled his hair, shouted his name like he was royalty.
But all he was looking for… was her.
And there she was, still in the same seat, standing up now, hands clasped in front of her, headphones pulled off, eyes wide.
He pushed through the crowd to reach her, breath still heavy from the last quarter.
“You saw that?” he asked, grinning like a kid. “You watched the whole thing?”
y/n smiled, a little softer than before as she gives him a victory pat on the shoulder. “You were incredible.”
His heart swelled.
But before he could say anything else, Niall threw an arm around his neck, dragging him backward.
“C’mon, Styles! Team photo! You can flirt later!”
Harry groaned but let himself be pulled back, looking over his shoulder. “Don’t leave! I’ll be right back!”
She nodded.
But she didn’t say anything.
___________________________________
y/n turned to sit again but before she could reach the bench, a voice cut through the noise behind her.
“Didn’t think you’d actually come.”
She froze.
Darren.
He stepped beside her, too close, his breath hot with sweat and something sour. His smile was twisted like it always was when no one was watching.
“You’ve got a real hero complex, huh?” he said, voice low so no one else could hear. “Trying to fix things that aren’t yours?”
“I’m not trying to-”
“You are,” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “And you need to stop. Leah’s fine. We’re fine. Whatever Harry thinks he knows, he doesn’t. And if you don’t want things getting messy for you, you’ll keep it that way.”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He leaned in, voice a whisper of venom. “I’ll say this one last time. Drop it.”
Then, just like that, he slipped back into the crowd, smiling, laughing, blending in like he hadn’t just poisoned the air around her.
_____________________________
Harry was finally free from the circle of teammates and photos and coach talk. He ran back to the bench, looking for her and found her standing quietly, arms wrapped around herself, her eyes distant.
“Hey,” he said, gently touching her arm. “You okay?”
She blinked, like coming out of a trance. “Yeah. Just tired. I think… I want to go home.”
His smile faltered. “Right. Yeah, of course. Do you want me to drop you or-?”
“Zayn said he’d drive,” she interrupted quickly, her voice light but hollow.
Harry frowned, searching her face. “You sure you’re alright?”
“I am,” she said. Too fast.
He didn’t believe her. But he could already see Coach waving him over, teammates calling his name again.
“I’ll text you later?” he offered, reluctantly stepping back.
She nodded, forcing a smile. “Good game, Harry.”
He watched her walk away with a strange ache in his chest.
Something was wrong.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
__________________________________________
y/n sat curled into the far end of Zayn’s couch, legs folded under her, hands wrapped around a mug she hadn’t sipped from in an hour. Her eyes were on the rug, distant. It was the next day, and her radio silence with both the boys had made them curious, or rather concerned.
Zayn paced.
Harry sat in the corner armchair, elbows on knees, bouncing one leg restlessly. He’d come over as soon as she stopped responding to his texts, because something was wrong, and he couldn’t stand not knowing.
“I just don’t get it,” Zayn muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not saying anything. Either of you.”
“Because we’re trying not to overwhelm her,” Harry said, a little sharper than he meant to.
y/n didn’t react.
Harry turned to her again, more gentle now. “y/n… did Darren do something to you? At the game?”
She blinked. Slowly.
Zayn looked between them, brow furrowed. “Wait, why Darren? What does he have to do with anything?”
Harry’s mouth opened, then shut. He exhaled through his nose.
Zayn stared at him. “Harry.”
“...After practice the other day,” Harry started, reluctantly. “He said something. About her. About y/n. It was disgusting. I hit him.”
Zayn stared. “You what?”
“I didn’t tell you because—” Harry glanced at Y/N. “I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I thought I could handle it. And I thought maybe he wouldn’t try anything.”
Zayn’s jaw locked. “He talked about her how, exactly?”
Harry looked away. “You don’t want to know.”
“No, see-I do want to know,” Zayn snapped. “Because I let her go to that game, Harry. I left her there while you were taking photos and Darren was, what? Circling her like a fucking vulture?”
“Nothing happened,” Harry said quickly. “I swear.”
“But he could have! You knew he had a problem with her and you still—”
“Stop.”
Both boys froze.
Y/N’s voice wasn’t loud. But it cut straight through them like a knife.
She looked up slowly, eyes clearer now, voice shaking but steady.
“Just stop.”
Zayn swallowed, guilt pooling in his throat. “y/n-”
“You’re both talking about me like I’m not sitting right here,” she said. “Like I’m not the one who got threatened. Twice.”
Harry went quiet. So did Zayn.
She put the mug down. Stood up.
“I know he’s dangerous. I know Leah’s scared. I know none of this is easy. But I’m not made of glass, okay?”
Harry stepped toward her, careful. “We’re not trying to treat you like-”
“Then don’t,” she said. “Don’t yell at each other and keep secrets and make decisions without me. I’m tired of everyone trying to protect me by excluding me.”
They both looked gutted.
Zayn cleared his throat. “Okay. You’re right.”
Harry nodded. “You are.”
y/n’s voice was quieter now, but still firm. “What we need to do now is stop panicking and think. Because Darren isn’t going to stop. And if Leah won’t speak up… then we have to figure out what comes next.”
Harry looked at her with something close to awe.
She wasn’t shaking anymore.
She was steady.The living room had shifted.
No more pacing. No more arguing. Just three people sitting on the floor, a half-empty snack bowl between them, and tension humming like static in the air.
Zayn had a pen in hand, tapping it against his knee. Harry was cross-legged, frowning at nothing. y/n sat between them, blanket draped around her shoulders, focused in a way they hadn’t seen since before the game.
“She won’t say anything,” y/n said, breaking the silence. “Not unless she feels safe.”
Zayn nodded. “Then we make her feel safe. Pull her aside at school.”
Harry shook his head. “That won’t work. He watches her. All the time. He’s like... attached.”
“Then what?” Zayn muttered. “We can’t go to the dean with nothing but vibes and bruises we haven’t seen.”
Y/N was quiet for a second. Then: “What if we don’t ask her to come forward?”
They both looked at her.
Harry’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said slowly, “what if we find a way to prove it without needing her to speak first? Something he’s already done. Or is going to do.”
Zayn leaned forward. “Like… catching him in the act?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not baiting him. That’s dangerous. But maybe… maybe we just need Leah to know she has a way out.”
There was a pause.
Then Harry’s voice came low.
“What if we talk to someone she trusts?”
“Does she even have anyone else?” Zayn asked. “She’s always with him.”
“Maybe we’ve just never seen her alone long enough to know.”
y/n looked down at the blanket around her, then back up.
“I can try,” she said. “I know how to be quiet. Invisible, even. That’s what people expect from me. But I see things. If I can find her… just her…”
Harry leaned closer. “You’d do that?”
“I have to.”
Zayn exhaled sharply. “Alright. We try to reach her. We give her a safe out.”
Harry added, “And if she still doesn’t talk, we make sure Darren doesn’t have anywhere left to hide.”
y/n looked between them.
“Then we need a plan.”
Zayn grabbed a notebook, flipping to a blank page, pen at the ready. “Okay. Let’s start with where she goes when she’s not with him—”
Harry’s phone buzzed just then. A text.
He glanced down and tilted his head in thought as he read the message.
y/n saw it immediately. “What?”
Harry didn’t answer at first. He read it again, then looked up, slowly.
“Coach,” he said. “He just texted to ask if I knew where Darren was. Said he never showed up to review.”
Zayn frowned. “Weird. Wait..Leah didn’t show up for the morning class. I heard her friend say that they hadn’t seen her after the game.”
“And you’re telling this now.”, Harry groaned.
“It was the first class Styles, I was barely awake! And I was busy thinking about what can happen to my grade if I skip my next class because you two losers called an emergency meeting-”
y/n’s fingers tightened in her sleeves.
“Both of them?” she whispered. “Gone?”
Harry nodded. “Looks like no one’s seen either of them since the game.”
The silence in the room turned cold.
y/n swallowed hard. “Then we’re already out of time.”
_____________________________________
Harry jogged down the front steps of the Fine Arts building, phone to his ear. “Nothing. Checked the studio wing, the greenroom, even the vending machines. No Leah. No Darren.”
Zayn’s voice crackled from the other end. “Try the back exit near the theater. I’m heading toward the library now.”
“You sure this isn’t just some Romeo and Juliet ‘run off together’ kind of thing?”
Zayn sighed. “Leah didn’t even look at Darren after the game. She looked… terrified.”
Harry muttered, “Yeah, well, if this is Romeo and Juliet, I hope we skip the dagger-to-the-heart ending.”
He hung up and turned, nearly crashing into y/n.
“Whoa,” he said, grabbing her arms, steadying himself and her. “Didn’t see you there, Cherry.”
She rolled her eyes, and Harry moved his hand to grasp hers, looking into her eyes. “Hey, I want to apologize for not telling you about the locker room incident. I just didn’t want to overwhelm you. But I shouldn’t have kept it from you, I understand it now.”
She nodded, weirdly comforted by his hand in hers. “Okay. Now search.”
Harry smiled, letting her hand go with a kiss on the back of her hand, making her blush furiously. He kept looking at her, so she said, “Not for me, Harry, for Leah.”
“Right. Sorry, Cherry, you’re distracting.”
Zayn joined them a few minutes later, slightly breathless from running. “Nothing at the library. But guess what? One of the assistants said Leah didn’t return her books this morning.”
“She always does that. Like… clockwork.”, Harry said.
“So either she’s sick,” Zayn offered, “or she’s being held hostage in Darren’s basement while he reads her feminist theory books out loud in a threatening tone.”
y/n looked at him. “You’re not helping.”
“Dark humor is a coping mechanism,” he said, hands up. “I’m fragile.”
Harry laughed softly, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Why do I feel like I’m in a true crime documentary and you’re the sidekick who gets us all killed?”
“I might die first,” Zayn agreed solemnly. “But I die hot and beloved.”
y/n looked at both of them and groaned. Why did she have friends like them?
__________________________________________________
“I don’t like this,” Harry murmured, frowning as he slowed. “Something feels… off.”
They were heading down the sloped walkway behind the old Science building, a quieter part of campus students usually avoided unless they had class or were hiding something. Cracked concrete, empty bike racks, the back door of the greenhouse padlocked shut.
Zayn glanced around. “Creepy. This is definitely where I’d lure someone if I were a serial killer.”
“Stop saying stuff like that, Zayn.” y/n muttered, walking slower now.
Harry stopped.
“Wait.”
He crouched near the base of the wall, beside a utility shed.
“What is it?” Zayn asked, stepping closer.
Harry held up a phone.
A pink case.
Cracked screen.
y/ns heart dropped. “That’s Leah’s.”
Zayn reached for it but Harry was already staring down at the screen.
A message was still open.
One that hadn't been sent.
“Please don’t tell them. I’m fine. Just needed space. Don’t—”
Harry read it aloud, then stood slowly.
“She didn’t get to send it.”
Zayn was quiet for a beat. “This wasn’t just her skipping class.”
Harry looked around again, closer this time. His eyes caught something on the side of the shed.
A mark. Red chalk?
A crude arrow. Pointing toward the woods behind the fencing.
y/n followed his line of sight.
Her stomach twisted.
“Guys,” she whispered. “Darren wants us to follow.”
Zayn squinted. “That’s weirdly theatrical, even for him.”
“No,” Harry said, voice low. “It’s a setup.”
And just then-
A buzz.
Harry’s phone.
One message.
Unknown number.
“So predictable. Come find her.”
--------------------------------------
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