Recovery - they say it's a return to a normal state of health, mind or strength. They call it the process of regaining possession or control over something lost or stolen; be that sanity, or peace of mind. Be it confidence, or self-worth. It's development - the ability to accept and conquer, and to move forth.

But how do you accept and conquer violation?

Especially when the violator is 3,000 miles away.

Two days have passed. A drag of forty-eight hours, since Harry told Sophie what happened at the party that night. Since her face had fallen in a brutal realisation, as he'd shakily confessed what exactly he was a victim of.

And then came the self-doubt; the string of unnecessary apologies as he promised Sophie it meant nothing, only for her to shut it down with surprise in her tone

"God, how could I ever be angry at you for this, Harry?" She'd asked him rhetorically, his face nuzzling against the crook of her neck, wetting her skin with tears, "it's not your fault. You need to know that it isn't your fault. Not at all."

And then came the decision.

Where do they go from here?

Harry's knee bounces upwards and downwards, the dull blare of cheap radio the only thing to be heard in the waiting room. The woman at the desk reaches for the phone as it rings, her voice monotonous as he speaks.

"NYPD, how can we be of assistance?"

Harry's jaw clenches, his knee continuing to bounce with anxiety as Sophie gently moves her palm around it, drawing her thumb soothingly over his jean clad leg.

"You're sure you want to do this?" she murmurs, pressing her chin to his shoulder as he's leant forward in his uncomfortable metal chair. She knows it's the right thing to do - she's fully aware that it is, and that telling the police is the next step in moving forward. It's either that, or he's haunted - really and truly haunted by her. And he will be - regardless - but justice soothes the sting, at least a little.

He nods, blowing a breath between his lips, before dragging the lower between his teeth. His lips are growing redder due to how often he's finding them between his teeth, as his eyes land on the girl beside him.

"I love you," he mumbles, tilting his head slightly to the side, "m'glad you're here."

Sophie hadn't suggested alerting the police - at least not at first. She knew the last thing Harry needed was weighted advice, or to be dictated even a little - what he needed was support, and the reassurance that whatever decision he made would be the right one. Because, ultimately - what would make him feel better was all that mattered.

They'd been laying on Harry's bed when he'd decided. His hand in hers, irritated with himself because that's all he could manage. Her thumb caressing his knuckle the same way it did now, his head resting comfortably on her shoulder. Silence between them, though his thoughts were deafening, as he presses a soft kiss to her shoulder every so often, feeling as if he has to apologise despite her constant reminders that he doesn't.

"I don't want her to get away with it," he'd whispered suddenly, his voice breaking through the still quietness of his bedroom. "S-She can't get away with it."

If Sophie had it her way, she'd have gotten on the next flight to Manchester and beat the living shit out of Elle for even thinking she could lay a hand on Harry and get away with it. For thinking she could traumatise the most kind, warm-hearted and genuine person on this planet in such a brutal manner, and then to have the nerve to show up and hug him goodbye.

So they're here. In the police station, with the dull sound of the radio ringing in their ears.

"Harry Styles?"

A man in uniform has surfaced, holding open a door to a room, his face holding the same expression as the woman's at the desk when Harry had quietly mentioned what they were here for.

Harry looks over at Sophie, lips pursing in what looks to be fear, as he shakily goes to stand up.

"Your friend can come with you."

Sophie stands up, her fingertips grazing softly over Harry's forearm in an act of reassurance, as the two of them make their way towards the room, following the officer's direction.

It's small; boxed off, and overly air-conditioned, a tattered red carpet in desperate need of replacement on the floor. There's a wooden table, two chairs on one side and one on the other, a notebook and pen in the middle of the table.

"Take a seat."

The man is bald, but he has a thick beard coating the lower half of his face. His lips are incredibly chapped, eyes a dull shade of grey, his face tinted a shade of pink.

"I'm Officer Fink," he introduces himself, sitting down in his chair, as Sophie and Harry do the same, his eyebrow raising as he shuffles through a couple of papers, "Oh."

There's silence for a moment, before he speaks again.

"You're here to report.. a sexual assault." The man sets his papers down, clearing his throat, "on behalf of your friend, here?"

Harry swallows, "N-No," he bites his lip, "u-uh, it's o-on me."

"You sure, man?" Officer Fink chuckles shortly, grasping at Harry's nervous stutter and using it as a point of ridicule. Sophie narrows her eyes.

"Positive," she intercepts, growing protective over the boy beside her.

Fink's laughter comes to an abrupt end, and he purses his lips, "As a protocol, I have to make you aware that reporting a crime such as this is a very serious matter - before you tell me anything, I need you to be sure of your story; certain that everything you're telling me is the truth."

Sophie has to press her lips together to keep her mouth shut; she doesn't like this officer. There's accusation in his tone, as if he expects what Harry's preparing to say to be simple conjurations of his mind; lies.

"I-I'm aware," Harry clears his throat nervously, "f-fully aware."

"Alright," Officer Fink continues, "tell me what happened - from the beginning."

It takes about ten minutes for Harry to tell the officer what happened; who Elle is, how he knows her, and what she did to him. In depth; gruesome detail - or as much as he can manage. Everything is a blur, even now - but he forces it out, Sophie's hand squeezing his the only thing supporting his composure.

"I need you to understand something," Fink taps his pen against his notepad, having messily scrawled less than a page of notes, "it's a great rarity - at least in this district - that we have cases consisting of a woman inflicting non-consensual sexual acts on a man-" he pauses, catching the widening of both Harry and Sophie's eyes at the realisation that, in short, he doesn't believe it.

"But," he holds up his finger, surprising them both. Harry's knee has begun to shake up and down in anxiety once again, and Sophie runs her hand smoothly over it, retracting it slowly when he flinches back from her touch. "Of course, we won't take this lightly. We'll look into it as best as possible - and we'll do everything we can to support you. But, ultimately - she is a UK citizen. As are you. We have our limits as to what we can do."

"B-But, surely y-you have cases where UK c-citizens commit crimes overseas," Harry furrows his eyebrows.

"Of course, but they're never easy. And, the suspect in question doesn't live here."

"Suspect?" Sophie near scoffs, "she did it."

"And as much as I'd like to take your word for it," Fink responds, "and I truly would - it'd make my job much easier; accusations such as these require thorough investigation - and in this case, I'll have to collaborate with my correspondent down at Scotland Yard."

Sophie feels enraged, at the fact this man is viewing them only as 'accusations', but she keeps her mouth shut, aware it's what he has to do. Innocent until proven guilty, and all that absolute shit.

Harry was expecting to feel content; accomplished, walking out of that police station - but instead he still feels empty, the weight on his shoulders only growing.

"Hey," Sophie murmurs gently, her fingers intertwining with her boyfriend's ring-clad ones, "I'm here, and I love you." Each time she utters the three words, it provides a sense of security in Harry - counting as reassurance that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

-

hELLO MY ANGELS

so !! we !! hit !! 10k on thIS BOOK ?!?!?!?!?!????!!!? WHAT THE FUCK

which is why i've updated twice in the past day at a (slightly measly) attempt at saying THANK YOU HOLY FUCK

thank you so much to everyone reading this book, if you've made it this far - it means the world

love u love u love u