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thecuriousbeauty · 8 days ago

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Different Frequencies- Part II (Harry Styles!au x autistic!reader)

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:- Thanks for the love on Part 1 guys! There will probably be another two parts to it. Here's Part 2, hope you enjoy! If you haven't read part 1, here's the link to it- Part 1

Word count:- 5379

Warnings: Physical abuse, meltdowns, some angst and fluff.

____________________________

The library was nearly empty, bathed in golden sunlight slicing through the high windows. At a corner table near the art section, y/n sat hunched over her sketchbook, her headphones resting loosely around her neck. It wasn’t on, it was just there. A pencil danced between her fingers, making sharp, clean lines across textured paper.

Harry spotted her before she spotted him.

He hadn’t planned to look for her today. No mentor session. No extra credit.

He walked over quietly, stopping beside her table.

“Hey, Da Vinci,” he said lightly, tipping his head toward the sketchbook. “You drawin’ world domination or somethin’ prettier?”

Y/N didn’t jump. She glanced up, briefly made eye contact, then looked back down. “World domination would be pretty?”

Harry just smiled at her honest question, “You could make anything look pretty.”

Flirty. Harry could be flirty, Zayn had warned her. She chose to ignore him.

“It’s a city made of sound.”, she replies quietly.

Harry blinked. “A what?”

She turned the sketchbook toward him. A skyline spread across the page, but not made of buildings. It was composed of waveforms, musical notations, color-coded sections that resembled sound patterns. There was a rhythm in the way it rose and fell, like it pulsed.

“Each building is a sound. Red is warmth. Yellow is distraction. Blue is... quiet.”

Harry sat across from her slowly, eyes scanning the page.

“That’s insane,” he said, meaning it in the best way. “You think in colors like this all the time?”

She shrugged. “Not always. Sometimes. It helps make things less loud.”

He nodded, thoughtful. No jokes. No smug grin. Just awe.

Before he could say more, someone walked up behind her. Tall, dark-haired, with a backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

“Hello,” Zayn said, voice casual, as he dropped a soft side hug onto Y/N’s shoulder. “Hi Zayn!”, she replies brightly.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t stiffen. She leaned into the hug, just for a second.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That’s rare,” he said, nodding toward the hug. “She usually threatens to stab me with a pencil if I get within a foot.”

Zayn laughed, sliding into the seat beside her. “She’s been threatening me since second grade. Took her a decade to allow a side hug.” Zayn looks sideways at his best friend. “You two are getting along pretty well too, aren’t ya?”

“Harry asks too many questions.”, she says, and Zayn chuckles.

“Yeah, I can be annoying, but you haven’t told me to stop.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you say we’re great friends now?”

y/n was focusing on the drawing, but she was listening. She takes a minute to think before saying, “Friends, yeah.”

Zayn laughs as Harry’s face falls. “Oh well.”, he sighs and answers his phone as it rings. “Yeah, mate?”

Harry’s eyes furrow as he curses, “That dick. Yeah I’m coming.” He hangs up as he mutters, “Fucking asshole-”

“Harry! No cursing, and it’s the library! So shh!”, y/n glares at him. Harry gets up with his hands out, defensively. “I’m sorry, Cherry, I gotta go anyway. Something came up. Meet you tomorrow at 2.”

She lifted her head up to give him a small wave, that made him smile and give her one back. “See you around, Zayn.”

“Yup, see ya.”

Zayn noticed the tiny flicker of her eyes tracking Harry until he disappeared through the main doors.

The moment he was gone, Zayn turned to her, smirking.

“Sooooo…” he started, drawing out the word.

y/n didn’t look up. “No.”

“You didn’t even let me ask.”

“It’s still no.”

“Come on. You like him.”

She finally glanced up. “I tolerate him..”

“Tolerate?” Zayn teased. “You didn’t even flinch when he sat across from you. You let him sit with you in class and ask you questions. You didn’t hit him with your sketchbook.”

“He’s good, he doesn’t make fun of me..,” she muttered, closing her book carefully.

“Well, he’s clearing your bar. With swagger, too.”

y/n sighed. “What bar?”

“What I mean is that, finally, it looks like my best friend has an interest in someone!”

“Nope.”, she said but there was the faintest smile there, reluctant and secret. She stood, tucking her sketchbook into her backpack.

Zayn slung an arm around her shoulders as they headed toward the parking lot.

“Let me hug you like a normal person.”

“No.”

“What if I promise to stop talking about Harry?”

“Double no.”

“You wound me.”

She snorted. He bumped her gently with his shoulder.

“It’s good, though,” he said after a pause. “You letting people in, even just a little.”

“Let’s not make it a speech.”

“Fine,” Zayn grinned. “But if he breaks your heart, I will break his knees.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t push him away either. That was anwer enough. “Movie night at my place?”, she offers, and Zayn grins happily. “Do you need to ask? I’m always down!”

________________________________

In the locker room across campus, the mood was different.

Shouting echoed off the tiled walls. Harry stepped into the room to see two players squared off. One red-faced and furious, the other smirking, arms crossed.

Darren.

“That’s enough!” Harry barked, shoving his way between them.

The younger player backed off immediately, still scowling. Darren didn’t move.

“You wanna act like a damn child?” Harry snapped. “Pick fights like we’re in a high school locker room?”

Darren just leaned against the wall, nonchalant. “He mouthed off.”

“You pushed him into the lockers.”

“Barely.”

Harry’s jaw clenched.

“This is the third time, Darren. Next one, you're benched. Fourth? You're off the team.”

Darren scoffed. “You’re not the coach.”

“No,” Harry said evenly, “but I’m the captain. And I’ve got enough pull to make sure you’re gone. Try me.”

Darren’s smirk widened, slow and mocking.

“You gonna cry about it to Coach? Or maybe that little pet project of yours, what’s her name? y/n the freak?”

Harry’s expression darkened instantly. He stepped closer.

“Watch it.”

“Relax,” Darren said with a snort, pushing off the wall. “Didn’t know she needed a bodyguard.”

He brushed past Harry and walked out, laughter echoing behind him, the kind that wasn’t amused, just cruel.

Harry stood there a beat longer, fists clenched. He didn't know yet just how deep Darren’s cruelty ran, but something told him this wasn’t the last time their paths would clash.

____________________________

It was quiet on the east side of campus, where the older buildings stood, all ivy-covered brick and rusted window frames. Y/N always came this way before her sessions with Harry. The walk was longer, but it was quieter. No one shouting across lawns. No earbuds blaring in passing ears. Just gravel crunching underfoot and the low hum of distant traffic.

She liked the stillness. She could think here.

Y/N rounded the corner of the building slowly, tucking her sketchbook under her arm. She had a new piece to show Harry, something calmer than yesterday’s city of sound. She’d used only blue this time. Layers of it. Textured. Like silence painted in water.

That’s when she heard it. It wasn’t loud, but sharp. A voice, cut off mid-sentence. Then a thud. Her head snapped toward the alley between the arts building and the storage annex.

A girl stumbled back against the wall.

y/n froze.

It was Leah, a girl from her design theory class. Always kind, always softly spoken. Her portfolio was filled with soft pastels and tiny, intricate patterns.

Leah’s back was pressed hard to the bricks, one hand raised like she was trying to make herself smaller.

Darren stood in front of her.

Even from a distance, y/n could tell it was him. Tall, broad, that ever-present tension in his shoulders like he was always one second away from snapping.

“Don’t talk to me like that again,” he hissed. “I don’t care who was watching.”

Leah said something, too quiet for y/n to hear and Darren stepped forward fast.

His hand didn’t hit her, not exactly. But it grabbed her wrist hard enough that she gasped. He yanked her forward, whispered something with a snarl in his voice, then shoved her back. Not enough to knock her down but enough that she staggered.

y/n’s fingers dug into her sketchbook. Her pulse roared in her ears. She even noticed a bruise forming on Leah’s right cheek, had he hit her before she stumbled upon them? She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She just watched, locked in place by something cold and familiar.

Her father’s voice, sharp and sudden. Her mother’s stillness. The day the door closed, and no one came back.

Darren turned, storming off down the path, and y/n flinched as his footsteps pounded past her without even noticing she was there.

Leah stayed frozen against the wall for a second longer, then quickly wiped her face and walked the other way.

Y/N didn’t call out. She just stood there, sketchbook pressed against her chest like a shield, mouth open slightly. She had to get out of there.

y/n walked briskly, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, shoulders tight with tension. Her breathing was shallow, controlled, but barely. The image of Leah’s frightened eyes and Darren’s aggressive grip looped in her mind like a broken record.

She didn’t know how she got to the room. Only that she pushed open the door, her limbs stiff and cold, and stepped inside.

Harry was already there, which was rare as he always comes late. He looked up, smirking.

“Well, look who’s late for once,” he teased, tapping his watch. “I was starting to think you got abducted by the math department.”

Silence.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t roll her eyes or tuck her hair behind her ear like she usually did. She just stood there for a second, frozen near the door, eyes unfocused.

Harry’s smile dropped halfway. “Hey,” he said, more gently now. “You alright?”

Still nothing.

She moved to her seat, mechanically. Set her bag down too carefully. Sat without looking up. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for her pen, then changed her mind and placed it flat on the table instead.

Harry watched her. Really watched her.

y/n was quiet, yes. She often needed time to warm into a session, to speak, or even meet his gaze. But this was different. This stillness wasn’t peace. It was something else. Like she was somewhere else entirely.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Cherry?”

She couldn’t form words. Harry gasps softly when he notices that her eyes are welling up. “Did something happen?”

The walls were closing in.

Y/N’s breath hitched as her fingers dug into the sleeve of her sweater, knuckles white. The air felt too loud, the ticking of the clock, the faint hum of the lights, even Harry’s quiet breathing across from her. It all pressed in.

“I-” she croaked, then stopped.

Harry was concerned now, but he didn’t want to rush her. “Take your time. You’re safe, yeah?”

But her body didn’t believe him.

She shook her head. “It… it reminded me-” Her voice broke. “I can’t-I don’t wanna be here, I can’t be here-”

“Okay,” Harry said quickly, pushing back his chair just a bit to give her space. “Okay, no problem. You don’t have to stay. You can leave, if that’s what you want-”

“Call Zayn,” she gasped out. “Please. Call Zayn. I need Zayn to take me home.”

Harry was already reaching for his phone. “Yeah, yeah-of course. I’ll call him.”

She was rocking now, ever so slightly, her hands over her ears, not pressing hard, but enough to dim the world.

Harry found Zayn’s contact, the only reason he had it was because Zayn had given it to him telling him he might need it for emergencies. This qualified as an emergency, didn’t it?

One ring. Two. Straight to voicemail.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Harry muttered. He tried again. Nothing.

He looked up. “y/n… I can’t reach him. He’s not picking up.”

Her eyes widened, panic flickering across her face. “No. No, he was-he said he’d-he’s supposed to-”

“I know,” Harry said gently. “He probably thought the session would run longer. He’ll be here soon. But until then, I can-”

“No,” she snapped, too loud for her own ears, flinching. “No, I don’t want- I need Zayn.”

Harry swallowed hard. This wasn’t about him. He knew that.

But it was about being there. About doing something. Anything.

“I’m not trying to replace him,” he said carefully, voice softer than ever. “I just… I don’t want you to be alone while you’re feeling like this.”

Tears were streaming down her face now, but she wasn’t sobbing. Just shaking, as though the world inside her was coming apart in slow motion.

Harry pulled his hoodie off and held it out gently. “Here. Just while we wait. You don’t have to talk. Or look at me. Just, here.”

She stared at it. Then, after a long moment, reached out and took it with trembling hands, pulling it over her own. It was warm. It smelled faintly of him- something clean, earthy, familiar.

Harry sat back down, not too close, not too far.

He kept his phone on the table, screen facing up, so she could see it.

“I’ll keep calling,” he said quietly. “I promise. I could drive you home, Cherry, I don’t mind.”, he adds, eyes going to her trembling hands. Harry gently slid his hand over hers, warm and steady. He didn’t squeeze. Didn’t shift. Just held it, his thumb brushing the back of her hand lightly, not to soothe, but to say I’m here.

And to his surprise… she didn’t flinch.

Her breath hitched again, but this time, a little less like panic and more like relief. The shaking didn’t stop entirely, but it slowed, like her body was listening to something her mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

Harry swallowed.

He had held hands a hundred times before. With girls he’d dated, friends, strangers at parties who needed help down stairs. But this? This wasn’t like that.

This was delicate. Like holding a bird that might fly away the second you tried too hard.

“H-Harry.”

His phone was ringing. Still holding one of her hands, he answers the phone with the other.

“Is everything okay?”, Zayn asks him on the other side.

“Uh, something happened. y/n wants to go home, could you come pick her up?”

“Of course! I’ll be there in two minutes, what do you mean something happened? What did you do? Is she okay?”

Harry takes a deep breath, swallowing his urge to snap back at Zayn for assuming the worst from him. “Just get here, okay?”

Zayn was there in less than 2 minutes. His gaze landed on his best friend, and he rushed to her side, “y/n, god I’m so sorry I should have been here. Are you okay?” He sits on the seat right next to her and she lets go of Harry’s hand to hug Zayn as his arms wrap around her, pulling her into his embrace. She let herself melt into his arms, the tension in her back easing only slightly. Her hands gripped the fabric of his shirt like an anchor.

“Zayn..”

“I’m here, shh..”, Zayn soothes, and Harry watches. Zayn narrowed his eyes at him. “The fuck did you do?”

“Nothing. I-”

“You were the only one with her. Did you say something to her? She-”

“-Zayn. No, no..Harry helped.”, y/n manages to get out. “Stop, please. Wanna go home.”

“Okay.”, he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s get out of here.”

Then she left with Zayn, his arm tight around her shoulders as they disappeared down the hallway.

Harry sat back down in the empty room, wishing he could go with them. But he also could not stop wondering what had made her feel so horrible.

___________________________________

The ride home was quiet.

Zayn glanced at her now and then from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on the gearshift near hers, not touching, just there. She hadn’t said a word since leaving the college. She just curled into the passenger seat, Harry’s oversized hoodie still wrapped around her, face turned to the window.

He wanted to ask. God, he wanted to ask.

But he didn’t.

She was safe now. That had to be enough.

When they pulled into the driveway, he helped her out of the car without a word. y/n walked slowly, like she wasn’t fully in her body yet. Zayn opened the door with the key her mom had given him long ago and guided her inside.

“y/n?” her mother called from the kitchen, footsteps approaching. “Sweetheart, you’re-”

She stopped when she saw her daughter.

y/n didn’t speak. Didn’t explain. Just walked forward until she reached her mother, burying her face into her chest, arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

“Oh, baby,” her mom whispered, immediately holding her close. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

y/n didn’t cry this time. She was past the peak of the wave now, just exhausted. Her knees buckled slightly, and her mom led her gently to the couch.y/n curled up beside her, resting her head in her mother’s lap like she used to as a child. Her mother ran fingers through her hair, slow and rhythmic, not asking a thing.

Zayn stood off to the side for a moment, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

He wanted answers.

But y/n’s face was soft now, her eyes already slipping closed, comforted by the only two people in the world she’d let see her undone.

So he just said, “She didn’t say what happened. But she was shaking. Panicked. I think… she saw something.”

Her mom nodded, expression serious, but not surprised. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Zayn lingered for a moment more, then nodded and sat nearby, close enough to be there, far enough to give her space.

And y/n, wrapped in silence and soft hands, finally let sleep take her.

______________________________

y/n sat on the low stone ledge outside the library, her notebook open in her lap but untouched. The page was blank, just like her mind.

Well, not blank. Crowded. With thoughts. With guilt. With her.

Leah’s smile in class that morning had been bright, too bright, wrapped around Darren’s arm like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t grabbed her. Like she hadn’t flinched.

Maybe it wasn’t what she thought. Maybe it was just a fight. Maybe Leah wanted to stay. Maybe it wasn’t her place to interfere.But then again… her father had smiled in front of people too. That hadn’t stopped what happened when the doors closed.

She glanced around, eyes scanning for Zayn like she always did. But he wasn’t there today. She was alone.

Or… so she thought.

“Hey.”

She flinched slightly at the familiar voice.

Harry.

Of course.

She kept her head down, tried to focus on her notebook like she was busy, like nothing had happened. But her hands gave her away, stiff, tight around the pen.

He walked over slowly, giving her room. “Hey,” he said again, softer this time. “Can we talk?”

She shook her head, almost immediately. “I’m fine.”

Harry sat beside her anyway, not close enough to overwhelm, but close enough that she’d know he wasn’t leaving.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

y/n didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed on the page.

He waited for a beat. “You think I see you differently now.”

She looked up, startled.

“You think because I saw you upset, or scared, or hurting… I see you as broken,” Harry said, his voice calm but clear. “Or weird. Or… whatever other word you’ve been called before.”

She didn’t deny it.

Her fingers curled into the edge of her hoodie sleeve. “I don’t… I don’t want you to think I’m… like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a freak.”

The word hit the air like a dropped glass.

Harry turned fully toward her then, eyebrows drawn together. “You’re not.”

She scoffed and looked away.

“I mean it,” he said firmly. “You’re not. And I’m not like them.”

Her eyes flicked back to his, cautious.

He wasn’t saying it to make her feel better. He meant it. That was the difference. He wasn’t talking to her like she was fragile, just like someone who mattered.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, but if somebody hurt you..I-” Harry took a breath, thinking of the right words. “I would like to have a word with them.”

y/n cracked a small smile. “Why?”

“Cause you’re my friend, duh? Friends stand up for each other, Cherry.” Her smile widens when she hears that. From the time she can remember, she only had Zayn as a friend. y/n hadn’t had the time to discuss with Zayn or her mom about what had happened, so she was hesitant to tell Harry. But then she remembers how sweet he was yesterday, giving her his hoodie and holding her hand.

“I saw Darren and Leah fighting.”, she says, motioning for Harry to come closer and listen. He does, already about to make a comment about Darren but he thinks it’s better to let her complete.

“He grabbed her wrist and spoke to her very rudely. Very rude. Mean. She was holding a hand to her cheek..so maybe he hit her? I don’t know. But it wasn’t right.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Darren’s not a good guy, always picking up fights and being mean. I thought he was good with Leah though..I mean, the way they make it seem..anyway, what are you going to do about it?”

“I think I should talk to Leah.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Then we can confront Darren. He’s in the football team, you know, always upto no good. He acts like he’s better than everyone and doesn’t really gel with the team. One more strike and the coach will throw him out of the team.”

“Mean.”, y/n repeats, and Harry smiles, watching her lips press in a small pout, expressing her displeasure. Her hair wasn’t in her usual braid today, it was pulled back in a pony, the gentle wind making her repeatedly push the loose strands away from her face. Harry found it really cute.

Her watch beeped, and she started packing her things. “Which class do you have now?”, Harry asks.

“No class. I have nothing until noon. I’m gonna take a walk.”, she tells him, standing up.”Lake behind the library, I like it there.”

“Oh the hook up spot?”, Harry smirks and she rolls her eyes. “There won’t be many at this time..I hope.”

Harry chuckled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Can I come along? I’ll stay quiet.”

y/n shrugged, she was starting to feel like he wasn’t so annoying after all. She walked beside Harry, her hands tucked in the sleeves of her cardigan, eyes lighting up every time she spotted a familiar plant poking through the underbrush.

"That's mugwort," she said, pointing to a patch of tall, silvery-green leaves. "People used to believe it protected travelers from getting lost. And nightmares, too, if you put it under your pillow."

Harry glanced at her, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile. "Maybe I should start carrying some around. I get lost in the campus parking lot at least twice a week."

She smiled, a small huff of amusement escaping her. Harry kept pace with her, not rushing, just... listening. He liked how her voice changed when she talked about things she cared about. He liked how she noticed the tiny details no one else seemed to.

They rounded a bend in the path, where rain from the day before had left a muddy puddle stretching across the trail. y/n tried to step around it, but her foot caught the edge of a slippery rock. She gasped, arms flailing slightly as she tipped sideways.

Harry reacted instantly, catching her by the waist before she could fall. "Whoa! I got you," he said, steadying her easily.

For a second, they just looked at each other. Her breath shallow from the near-miss, his hands still holding her carefully like she might shatter if he let go too fast. Then, slowly, their fingers slid together. He didn’t pull away, and neither did she.

The path continued, but now they walked hand in hand.

Y/N’s heart beat a little faster, not from the fall, but from the warmth of his palm in hers. She wasn’t used to this kind of touch. But it didn’t feel overwhelming. It felt... grounding.

Harry noticed the way her eyes darted occasionally, like she was still carrying yesterday’s stormclouds. So he squeezed her hand lightly. “Hey, want to hear something kind of dumb?” he offered, his voice playful.

She looked up at him cautiously. “Okay.”

“So, my freshman year, I thought the ‘honors’ lounge was just, like... a really fancy bathroom. I went in there with shampoo and a towel because I thought it had showers or something. Walked in on two people studying thermodynamics while I was holding a loofah.”

She blinked. Then snorted.

Harry grinned. “Yeah. I ran. Fast. Left the loofah behind. I think someone still uses it as a paperweight.”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she covered her mouth, shaking her head.

“That’s... ridiculous,” she said, a little shyly. She realized slowly that Harry shared a piece of information so that she doesn’t have to feel embarrassed. She stole a glance at him, his curls bouncing a little as he walked, his eyes scanning the path ahead but occasionally flicking down to where their hands met. Every time he did, the corner of his mouth quirked, like he couldn’t help but smile at it.

“Um, do you like board games?”, she asked quickly, before she could take back what she was going to ask him.

“Board games? Yeah, sure, why?”, Harry was a little surprised but her answers nevertheless.

“There’s a thing we do on Fridays, Zayn and I. We go to a club for board games, like you know, book clubs. Mostly we go there for snacks. They’re really good.”, she rambles. “Would you, um like to join?”

Harry grinned. He couldn’t imagine how in the beginning he just wanted to get the mentorship classes done as soon as he could to get his extra credit and now he was getting happy the quiet girl is inviting him to something.

“I’m in, you had me at snacks. Are you sure Zayn will be alright with it though? He doesn’t like me very much.”

“Don’t worry about him.”, y/n assures, sitting down on one of the benches near the lake and taking a deep breath as she looks at the still water. It always made her calm. Harry sat next to her quietly until he had to run off for football practice.

_____________________________

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

She wasn’t someone who confronted people. Conflict made her skin buzz with static. But the image wouldn’t leave her. Leah flinching, Darren’s fingers digging into her wrist, the mark on her cheek.

Y/N stepped forward before she could overthink it.

“Leah,” she said, voice a little higher than normal.

Leah turned, pleasantly surprised. She was walking with her friends to the canteen.

“Can we talk?” y/n asked.

Leah’s smile faltered just a fraction. But she nodded.

Once they were out of earshot, y/n fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

“I saw what happened,” she said plainly. “Yesterday. With Darren.”

Leah froze. “W-What, what do you mean?”

y/n continued before she could back out. “You don’t have to explain. Or say anything you’re not ready to. But I just want you to know… I noticed. And I believe you. Even if you’re not ready to say it out loud.”

Leah’s throat moved like she was trying to swallow a stone.

“You saw him?” she whispered. “But… it’s not usually like that. He just-he gets stressed. And sometimes I push his buttons and-”

“No one deserves to be hurt,” y/n said softly, her voice trembling but steady. “Even when it looks like love on the outside.”

Leah’s eyes welled up, and she turned away quickly, brushing at her face. “H-He loves me, you don’t know us. I have to go now.”

“Leah-”

“It’s none of your business, okay? Just stay out of it.”, she said harshly, and then added a quiet, “Please.”

Then she went. y/n sighed watching her go. She couldn’t just leave it like that, knowing that someone is being hurt. Leah trusts Darren too much, she’s blindly in love. y/n thought about what she could do but couldn’t come up with anything. Maybe she’ll ask Zayn and Harry for suggestions.

__________________________

Harry wiped sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt, catching sight of Zayn near the vending machines. He almost didn’t say anything, but something gnawed at him.

The way y/n’s breathing had hitched like her whole system had short-circuited.

He walked over.

“Hey.”

Zayn turned, expression neutral. “Hey, Styles.”

Harry glanced around. No one was close enough to hear.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, quieter now.

Zayn folded his arms. “About y/n?”

Harry nodded.

“She told me what she saw, but I felt like there was more to it. I didn’t ask her. I figured if she wanted to tell me, she would. But… I’ve been thinking about it. It wasn’t just sensory overload, was it?”

Zayn studied him for a long moment. Not suspicious, more like measuring how much truth Harry could hold.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “What she saw reminded her of… stuff.”

Harry tilted his head. “What kind of stuff?”

Zayn exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening.

“Her dad used to hurt her mum. Bad. Like hospital bad. When he found out Y/N was autistic, he blamed her for everything, said she was the reason their lives were hard. He left not long after, but not before doing damage that stuck.”

Harry felt his stomach drop.

“He told her she was broken,” Zayn added, voice thick now. “That no one would ever love her ‘the way she is.’”

Harry’s grip on the edge of the vending machine tightened. “Jesus.”

Zayn shrugged, but there was no casualness in it. “She doesn’t talk about it much. But sometimes, when she sees something that reminds her of it, someone hurting someone they claim to love, she freezes. It’s not just memory. It’s her whole nervous system going into lockdown.”

Harry nodded slowly, feeling like he’d just been handed something fragile and sacred.

“I want to help,” he said quietly.

Zayn’s eyes softened. “Then don’t rush her. Let her come to you. And when she does… mean it.”

Harry met his gaze. “I do.”

Zayn gave a short nod, like he’d come to a decision. “She trusts you. I don’t know how fast that happened, but… it means something. Don’t screw it up.”

Then he turned and walked off, leaving Harry alone by the vending machine, the hum of the gym dull in his ears.

He stood there for a moment, hands braced against the metal, heart thudding a little too hard.

He had known there was something more to her, not in a fragile way, but in a layered way. y/n moved through the world like someone who’d had to build her own armor. Not hard-edged, just precise. Measured. Honest in a way that most people weren’t brave enough to be.

And now he understood a little more of why.

She’d let him see the cracks. Not all of them. But enough.

Enough to make him feel the weight of it in his chest, not in a way that scared him off, but in the way you feel when someone trusts you with something real. Something that matters.

Harry pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and let out a breath. God. He really liked her

______________________________

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