Never Not You
a long blurb in which harry thinks distance is the antidote to not fall in love, and y/n is younger.
//
Harry’s good at memorization.
For a take-home assignment back when he was little, he needed to memorize the multiplication table from numbers 1 to 9 and he did it in about two hours, with little help from his mum and some internalized tantrums here and there, but he still persisted for the promise of spring rolls as dinner and extra hugs from Anne.
It was clearly unnecessary but having been so bored in class, Harry decided to memorize the names of elements 1 to 30, even if the sole purpose of the periodic table was to not memorize the names and in fact, anything at all.
He knows his mum’s ever-changing favorite flowers too. It was once tulips but now they’re sunflowers, and whenever he goes home, he scurries to the nearest flower shop back home to but some for her. At one point, he’s had a very specific interest for vases with quirky prints on them from having been so hooked with looking up flowers to show Harris and how he wants to incorporate it somehow to his suits. And of course, he could never forget Gemma’s final grades before graduation; having been so proud that he’s almost considered to have matching tattoos with her (anything of her liking) but he’s backed out at the last minute because she could be a menace at times.
His band’s coffee orders are engraved to his head too, sometimes forgetting his own and just settling for an order from anyone of them, always a shrug at the first sip and deciding ¾ in that it’s not at all bad and maybe he likes it too. Gifts at birthdays and then some, the reminders put on his phone’s calendar only secondary to his memory.
Most importantly though, Harry’s memorized almost all of you.
He knows that he couldn’t know possibly all of you because there’s something new every time and even some things you don’t even know about yourself. He tries to observe, whether superficial or not, all the little quirks from the tiniest of frowns to the deepest of sleeps – Harry’s memorized almost all of you.
Knows how you genuinely have a good heart. Knows how at times does your passive-aggressiveness can come to play and you know that yourself, but in realization is it only dismissed when he asks about it, an “it’s okay” always provided even if you were taken advantage of a bit. Knew how sometimes you were more selfless than you could ever be selfish, a clueless wonder to him on why you aren’t dull with all this effort you’re exerting wordlessly.
To how you’re younger than him and even though you were intelligent and skilled enough at your point of life, there were just certain things that came with age and Harry’s made a pact to himself that he’d help guide you through it and teach you whenever he can, not wanting you to be mend by hurt alone.
He knows the fear in his spine whenever he’s mad because you could be effortlessly intimidating at times and not on purpose actually. It was the rage that lied in silence does he know someone must have fucked up and it’s double-checking every time of what if it was him who fucked up, making him recount the happenings of atleast the past twenty-four hours if he’s done anything wrong. Also knows the pain and weight his heart carried whenever he sees you sad because you were just so contagious, making him wonder to what happened and how he could be of help to this being who didn’t deserve it, even if it’s just the smallest pat to your head.
Harry knows how you look at mornings and how puffy you could get (depends on the sleep you get) and how you sometimes complain to it that he’s decided to buy two of these authentic jade rollers, one for both of you and the fascination with skincare started from there. The little fridges were absolutely expensive and impractical luxuries but of course he bought that for each of you too, TPWK stickers here and there along with couple other doodles.
He feels you linger in every hug you give and receive, to and from him, and he doesn’t point it out as much except for when he wants to tease you about it, making you a bit sensitive to the statement at one point which made him immediately worry and almost cry going “hey, hey! I was only kidding! Can y’just hug me again now, please?” desperately.
He’s absolutely memorized too on how blood rushes to your cheeks and your eyes go evidently hazy whenever he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, always a giggle whenever he exaggerates them and in more ways than one were his kisses always missed.
A bit saddening to say, but Harry’s memorized his lines too when asked the question of what are the both of you. To whether if he’s your boyfriend or not and the standing of one in each other’s lives, his reply unwavering and delivered with half a smile.
“We’re just really good friends, s’all.”
Everyone knew he was lying and even Anne does so herself, giggling to herself for so long when her son answers her as monotone as possible because it just can’t be true at all, but then later settling into worry because she knows he was in a deep state of denial and to pull him out of it is beyond hard.
Harry doesn’t know either if he’s lying to himself or not, but the answer’s always just there in his gut and in his heart yet he refused to confront it, much less acknowledge. The thought of the other option opposing to what he always says has crossed his mind but he never did anything about it. Always dismissive of the topic and quick to close.
At present time is he being asked again by a friend he hasn’t seen in years, in a dive bar with you and this is one of the only times he gets asked with you being present and right beside him, a teasing smile on his friend’s face as he jokingly asked “has Harry proposed yet? Awfully looks like he’s gonna devour you alive with how he looks at you protectively” and it makes you laugh heartily, an awaiting look as you look up at him with his arm still around your shoulders.
“Y’wanker. We’re just good friends, that’s all.”
He says naturally without any trace of unease or dishonesty, feeling later on your hand gripping his shirt going limp slowly until you were no longer fisting the soft material.
The comfortable aura to your booth probably evaporated at this point, wanting your face to look as neutral as possible until his friend was nowhere in sight and it’a just back to the two of you again, without anyone daring to acknowledge the elephant in the room.
“Gonna be heading home for the night. Think m’going down with the flu or something.”
“Did y’drink too much even before I got here? Hey, have you skipped out on eating lunch again? I swear to God m’gonna buy one of those beepers to hook on you.
Anyways, let me drive y’home. We’re-…”
“Gonna take a taxi or something else, H. I’ll be okay.”
“Hmm, no. S’chilly outside and y’have no coat and I don’t want you waiting around. Just let me, yeah? You don’t have to wait for me.”
He counters and you know you can’t deny it any further because he’ll win anyway, his last sentence unintentionally bearing more meaning to what it’s only supposed to that it almost makes you chuckle.
Harry still hasn’t memorized on telling whether you were lying or not.
+
“Are y’awake?”
“That’s a really bad question to ask me, love.”
Harry, has in fact, just woke up and it’s not morning either for you to ask a question such as that, but knowing him also meant knowing that he had quarter to 12 noon siestas and you wanted to make sure, a yawn at the other side of the phone.
He feels short of the nap but he figures that it must be of importance when you call directly instead of texting first at this time of the day, propping himself up with a pillow against the headboard.
“Y’gonna record that and put it in your next song then?”
He chuckles at that, rolling his eyes as he’s oblivious of how you’ve had a pattern of passive-aggressive jokes ever since your run-in with his friend at the bar, the only non-harmful way of trying to relieve your stress on him at the moment.
“What do you need?”
There’s a sad sigh of realization once you realize again the actual reason to why you’re calling, some panic and some sorrow laced in your tone while you try to keep your urgency at bay.
“I don’t have a date for this grand year-end party my workplace is throwing tonight.”
“Did y’date bail on you? What’s their name, by the way? Do you-…”
He’s a bit more alert now because he knows he’d be borderline pissed if someone else came before him as the first option as your date, pursing his lips while he awaits your reply.
“Waited at the last minute so y’could be a little bit pressured.”
“Wait, what? What’s that-…”
“Will you be my date, Harry? Please?”
Not necessarily a complete set-up but in a way was it a little nudge of trying to take him out in your little way and in some sort of sense, an unofficial date of sorts and the possibility of being traded in for a meeting is always present, so hopes weren’t that high altogether.
He softly smiles at the invitation, and it’s even softer than the fleece hoodie he’s wearing, a little happy bop to his head as you sort of asked him out.
“‘Course I will.”
The questions came along soon enough of what to wear and what was the theme all about, something about being dressed to the nines mixed with looking like Greek gods and goddesses right up his alley as he smiles because he knows what you’re doing (he knows but it doesn’t mean he’s right) and he’s not panicking at the slightest bit to what he’s gonna wear. Knows he has something in his closet that he could put together and how he might not need to have Harry L. drop by for a jiffy to help him out.
“Are you gonna pick me up?”
Harry snorts, tucking his phone in between his ear and his shoulder as he unzips his hoodie and goes about to his walk-in closet because he doesn’t want to cram later on and stand out at your work’s ball for all the wrong reasons, even if you were sure that he could pull up wearing denim on denim with a horrendous wash and still have people worshipping him alive.
“Is that still a question at this point? Yes, lovie. I am gonna pick you up. Which car do you want me to pick you up in? Do you wanna stunt on anyone or summat? Let me be a real asshole and rev m’engine obnoxiously?”
“Fuck off.”
His humor was something that appeased you greatly, knowing exactly what you disliked that bashing it with you is second nature now and how his own list of things he hates has merged into your own – incorporating it to douchebag jokes that mostly involve having to sound as pathetically boastful as possible.
“Yeah, m’kay. I’ll surprise you. Love you too.”
The call ends at that, his last statement yet again being the thing that you know would haunt your mind before you go to sleep later in the night. Felt a bit cryptic given the context and how there’s doubt if Harry’s just doing all of this on purpose or it’s just you feeling all these new hints (that could be false hopes) lately.
Seven o’clock in the evening comes soon enough and exactly does Harry look beyond handsome and dapper won’t just cut the cake. Dressed in a structured silk-like and intricately yet elegantly-patterned suit with the gold laurels he once wore for his Gucci shoot made him look like the best-dressed guy in the room and you aren’t at the venue yet, the shy glint of his lone fern earring being absolutely welcome.
Surely enough did he make himself at home already, your spare key always coming in handy a he whistles to himself while he waits for you to come down. Doesn’t feel that he’s waiting at all because soon enough does he hear the familiar sound of heels clicking against the floor and his voice gets stuck in his throat in response to look up.
Felt like the word angelic is an understatement to how you look – a creamy white (with a hint of pink as an undertone) satin gown that flows right to the floor, the cut being immaculate as it hits all the right places you’ve wanted it to and there’s a hefty amount of cleavage and pockets, making you glad that you decided to ask around from friends and cousins that are enthralled with prom and didn’t mind their gown being altered, only with the promise that if the outcome you make it to be is that good, they’d need to borrow it back too.
Laurels just like he had were also worn, along with jewelry gifted by Harry that are too expensive that it was beyond guilt-tripping to wear and how they became the perfect accents.
And of course, how could Harry forget about the rings you’re wearing? Both hands and almost all fingers were adorned with them, something about you wearing them doing things to him that he can’t explain.
“Thank god m’your date, love.”
It was just a moment of gushing over each other that there weren’t really any boundaries put up and lack of labels present; it’s just the both of you being in so much awe of one another that it felt like would physically hurt if you didn’t praise. Moments were too surreal that it felt almost too vivid to the point you’re just staring off into space, a too-warm smile on your face.
Harry’s not only with you, but also, Harry’s here for you.
He’s here for you in less than a day’s notice with no complaints at all; only questions asked were to how he should dress and what time should he pick you up. In a way did it give some sense of security because he’s willing to do all that for you, though there’s some benefit of not knowing whether he was about to do something later in the day when you asked him. He had no regard for anything anyone’s gonna say and how you’re both probably making headlines again — only thing mattered was that this is your moment and he’s only here as your date.
It was exhilarating getting to introduce him to all your friends and colleagues, some questioning looks thrown on you because you’ve never told that you had a boyfriend based from the chemistry and unspoken affection between the two of you. Any questions concerning those weren’t answer by Harry with a “we’re just good friends, s’all” but rather, it was only responded with a giggle and a charming grin from you.
Felt like there was no conflict at all and to how labels didn’t matter at the moment because you felt it, unable to put into words how much happiness it brings you to get to pretend, for even a night, that he’s yours and you’re his.
He’s enjoying himself too, grinning and laughing so much to the point that his cheeks hurt and he could feel his dimples’ indentions much clearly now and that didn’t matter at all.
There’s just this happy buzz even without all the champagne the both of you drank that walking down so giddily to his car felt like the cheeriest thing in the world, some wobbling and laughing involved even if no one from the both of you really knew why you were doing so.
No awkward moment, no mention or even the slightest hint to his ex and then some, and no trace of hidden yearning for him because it was all evident. All evident for him to see and he doesn’t reject it at all; in fact, he’s made quite a show by kissing your cheeks and complimenting how gorgeous you look (more than necessary but you weren’t complaining) all night.
“Thank you for tonight.”
Harry’s happy buzz pauses and brings him back to life the moment you speak, feeling your arms around his waist tightly and a head nuzzled to his neck so dreamily.
He’s this large and fluffy yet toned being right in your arms, physical contact just making your heart flutter immediately and even more-so when he returns the warmth and the tightness of your embrace, his chin rested on your head and you swear you feel his lips pressing to the top of it, his ring-clad fingers squeezing on your shoulders before they settle for resting on the small of your back.
“Thanks for letting me have the most beautiful date — even if it’s not m’event.”
The hug feels so warm and intimate, even. No one’s budging and no one’s in a rush. It was pure affection displayed and no one could take that away from the both of you either — not even Harry’s persistence of the line he’s memorized being said right back to him.
He pulls away ever so slightly, just enough to see your face instead of the top of your head, his arms still on you and bodies still touching.
Harry trains his eyes on you just wordlessly as if to take in every last bit of you and as if he hasn’t done that before. Looks dreamy while at it and it wasn’t the champagne at play. Just purely the both of you.
His mind’s blank from having an overload of thoughts and just for a split second does he look at your lips, biting down on his own softly.
Harry, ever so gently, detaches his hands away from the small of your back as you almost whimper at the loss of physical contact, and instead does he place his left hand right on top of your bare shoulder, his right grasping your jaw gently.
No one’s considerably intoxicated but the moment’s overwhelmingly intoxicating enough.
It was when Harry sees you blink twice at him and hear your breath falter and your eyes flutter closed that he dips in for a closed kiss on your lips — the first time he’s ever done that and he wishes for a second that he did it before.
Pulls away briefly to look at you in a state of pure happiness and bliss, the surprise being only an undertone to the gentle smile on your lips.
Harry surprisingly giggles and again does he dip down again, still gentle yet a bit more sure of himself as he gives a kiss again yet this time does his tongue nudge the slightest bit on your bottom lip to ask for entrance and you let him in surely that he smiles into it, licking into your mouth and it makes him involuntarily cup your jaw harder.
It’s a bit hard to breathe considering the sudden turn of events that he feels like so too, kissing you a bit more again with some chuckles as he pulls away again trying to control himself.
The champagne has no role anymore in the moment’s happy buzz, the two of you giggling as he reaches out for you to take his hand, into his car that he’s gonna drive himself.
He did pick a douchebag sports car but for the sake of both of your dignity, he didn’t rev it up like an asshole as he joked with you earlier. A two-seater and a top-down at that which makes the both of you closer with the seats than his usual.
It’s a silent drive at that the moment you’re both out of the basement parking and there’s this sudden wave of tension brewing in the air; a sudden spark of contrast compared to how happy the both of you were just minutes prior.
“Harry, what are we?”
He’s expected that question, of course, but he’s never expected it so soon — which is wrong for him because he did decide to kiss what he says to be a friend just awhile ago, and repeatedly and unstaged if he might add.
He chuckles out of instinct, some uncertainty in it as he focuses on the road ahead and it takes all his willpower to not look at your inquiring eyes.
“We are what y’think we are.”
Harry answering indirectly outside of interviews and with people he aren’t really close with has become a pet peeve of yours instantaneously, a furrow in your brows as to how you’re the farthest thing from a host asking him personal questions on air.
“Well what do you think of us?”
The question with the same enigmatic suspense behind it is thrown back to him, making him almost smile because you’re a tough one at this.
He exhales almost unsurely, shrugging his shoulders as he throws out his hands as if it’s the most obvious answer, humor at the moment not being his strong suit.
“Cute. We’re cute.”
The sentence itself makes you do a double-take at him to confirm if he’s really said that out loud, the realization sinking in you although that his answer isn’t direct, it was direct enough to let you know that you aren’t viewed seriously and there’s more than probably no hope at it in the long run.
You visibly deflate at that, suddenly feeling so small as your voice goes down in almost a whisper.
“Cute isn’t a label, Harry.”
He says nothing to that as he knows he’d be only put at more unease when he looks at you and he still does, running his hand through his air as he can’t think of any viable reply.
It was beyond frustrating to look at this in any light besides negative, making you throw your head back and how you immediately wanted to evaporate into thin air.
He was confusing! Beyond confusing as he’s kissed you for the first time and then some awhile ago and it was the sweetest thing ever, and minutes later is he shrugging it off like no big deal.
You feel greatly disregarded, making you huff under your breath so much that you pull on your hair slightly.
There’s a lump on your throat to why Harry just can’t admit nor commit, making you think of the other factors present that involved none of you and all of him.
“Do you still love her?”
Harry huffs at that and rolls his eyes, no replies either because he thinks it’s a stupid question yet he doesn’t answer, enough for you to snicker with how he’s acting right now.
“You know that if you go on like this, you’ll scare me off even more and we’ll never get to be with each other? You understand that right?”
It wasn’t a threat or anything like that — just a forewarning to how you were genuinely feeling and how it implies that all this tricks he’s pulling and words he’s retracting is eventually gonna make you grow sick and tired of him
“Nothing’s gonna change between us, lovie. I promise you that.”
Harry assures you and in his perspective does he think that was he’s said is purely positive, when in fact it’s not.
He’s saying everything out of script and what he didn’t get to memorize is the slow and barely noticeable rise and fall of your chest, oblivious to how you were absolutely hurting and how he thinks all this is just an open and shut page for the both of you. And as if he hasn’t done enough damage, he nods to himself, speaking an afterthought for you to hear.
“We’ll be alright.”
+
Distance. There’s been some distance the past few weeks.
Just as what Harry wanted, it was an open and shut case. What he wanted was quickly obliged with and it almost felt wrong.
Beyond unhealthy to say the least that the both of you don’t talk about your issues and if ever you do, he’s quick to dismiss them and unacknowledge that something’s very much wrong.
He viewed it to be as him persisting to salvage whatever’s left and pretend along with it that nothing’s going wrong. Truthfully, he didn’t want to lose you and your current standpoint either.
There’s distance, of course, and although unwarranted and unwanted by you, you think it’s deemed best because you don’t know either if you can keep along with the act of you not hurting any longer.
Harry’s been hanging out with his exes lately. Not at the same time of course but he’s a little bit all over the place with his head empty yet with thoughts needed to be covered soon enough.
There were still meetings (you don’t wanna call it dates anymore) with him from time to time, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s still some underlying tensions lurking in between the two of you. The shift’s noticeable enough and people around you were desperate enough to get the both of you back to being close as you were.
It isn’t their business of course but they felt just so concerned that they intervened, Mitch being the master of the plan.
He missed you. All of his friends did. Because although they still saw you, they felt like something was lacking. Your closeness to Harry was lacking a bit but so did the usual contagious bubbliness you harbored with you, missing that so much that they try to keep it as alive as possible by checking up on you often.
The situation was tough and you’re obviously hurting, the thing that happened between the two of you being known by Sarah and the gang soon enough when Harry lets it slip, extremely disappointed and even reactions coming at him from left and right.
It’s only been some weeks. Still met within those weeks, though. Been a few days ever since you last saw him and his friends thought why not invite you, their band’s honorary member, and Harry being the same room as you are is only a bonus?
That’s the reason to why everybody’s huddled with the couches moved to form a make-shift square around this coffee table, a couple of beers on-hand and some take-out shared at the middle with some playful banter on the side.
Laughter just encompasses the whole atmosphere, Mitch being the one to pause from all of it and look around to see you at the far corner of the couch, still interacting yet your attention was clearly divided.
“Oh well would you look at that — Y/N’s talking to her new boyfriend!”
Everyone’s attention is suddenly turned to you and it was noticeable to how it connected with them noticing you smiling at your phone every now and then, being a bit flustered with all the new pairs of eyes on you.
Harry’s only one Adam away from you, eyes not slick at all as he tries to take a peek at your phone to just attempt at getting a name, but to his speed is he still defeated with you locking your phone immediately.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
You make it clear to them, some disbelieving looks you’re getting and raised brows to which you chuckle at, a teasing smile on your face as you joke around.
“Yet?”
“Fuck off!”
It’s happy banter yet again to how you were being such a little shit even if you weren’t serious at all, the one you’re talking to just happening to be someone a friend’s introduced, and happens to not be such a bore and has an actual personality.
You’re in such laughter and momentary bliss that you forgot Harry is somehow so near to you, and in fact, everyone’s forgot that too. Forgot that there was still tension and heartbreak of the sort.
“What’s his name?”
His tone’s light but it was clear that it was forced, much heavier of some bitterness behind it and everyone almost goes quiet as they go curious.
“His-…”
“Sounds like a douchebag.”
Harry immediately concludes, taking a sip of his beer with a careless shrug on his shoulders as the group has once again erupted in laughter, a smug and almost stoic glint to his eyes he merely looks you over with.
“I didn’t even start saying his name!”
The conversation ends at that as it travels to Mitch being jealous over a cat when it came to Sarah, making you lean on the couch as Harry catches your look that makes him widen his eyes lazily.
“My point.”
He mouths, a bitter half-assed smile plastered on his face as he drinks again, an unfamiliar feeling in his guy that he always chooses to ignore.
Harry at this point, thinks that would only be the last of it.
But just as unpredictable as he is ans how his mind went, he’s decided with only a ten-minute notice to drop by at your house, only because he misses you but he’s not gonna admit that.
He knows it’s not normal at this point — all this indecisiveness and him pretending everything’s okay while you’re quite transparent with what you’re feeling on the other hand.
Harry must have been so excited to seeing you again (while still under the cloud that everything’s breezy) that he got to your place before you with his extra key.
He hasn’t been here in a while, but he knows that the feeling of being at home in yours is still there and ever-present, looking around to see that not much has changed.
Only some minutes have passed until the door clicks open, head whipping around to see you as there’s an automatic smile in his face.
Was about to go for a hug until he stops in his tracks, eyes raking on your figure up and down and his vision stopping and almost going dark to see a man’s shirt a tad too big for you adorning your figure, the perfume laced on it making him cringe.
He turns irritated quickly, pointing at it weakly in disgust with his brows furrowed.
“Whose shirt is that? M’sure I don’t own anything like that.”
“Just got my shirt wet.”
Harry’s eyes narrow, you being the one to indirectly answer questions now as you look up at his impatient eyes.
“It’s of a friend of mine.”
He looks at you, his expression undecipherable, while he sips from the drink he’s helped himself from your fridge, his jaw rigidly clenching as he nods almost tauntingly.
“I could see that. Your messy hair is his merit too?”
He feels like he’s reaching, searching for another answer besides the truthful one you’ve already provided just seconds ago. He doesn’t wanna hear it absolutely. Was like wanting to torture himself and have it regret immensely later on when he does hear an answer he’s scared for.
“Can you just say what you really mean for once Harry? Don’t you get tired of all this bullshit?”
“Just curious love, I didn’t mean anything.”
He smirks sarcastically, raising his hands up in surrender but he’s miles away from it, wanting to prod further.
“Well if you must know, yes it was him who got my hair all messy — airconditioning and humidity because he just drove me home, ya know — do you wanna know the positions too?”
“Don’t you dare, Y/N.”
“Don’t I dare what?”
He almost grits his teeth in anger, his fists clenching as his eyes look almost unrecognizable.
“Don’t go on trying to get me furious because you don’t wanna see it.”
His statement makes you scoff, making you take your head back in appallment. Even though Harry was intimidating, he was infuriating and getting on your nerves as much as you did with him; all that blooming from a shirt that was neither yours nor his.
“Why would you get furious? I’m wearing a man’s shirt that isn’t yours, and you’ve talked for weeks about your exes. We’re friends, hm? We should be able to speak freely right?”
He narrows his eyes at that, crossing his arms looking down on you as if to taunt, head tilting as rage was starting to consume him whole.
“Oh I see what this is about, it’s about them, isn’t it? It’s about my past.”
“Not everything is about you. S’simple as you’re jealous and that’s final.”
“So what if I am?”
And he gets closer to you, just mere inches away and he looks at you with amusement, awaiting what you’d reply to that as he faced your statement head-on.
It was honestly a battle of pride at this point, neither one of you knowing if the other really meant what they said in the first place.
“Then I would suggest you grow up and start speaking your mind; take what’s yours.”
Harry’s throat dries at that with his face almost paling, unable to recover from what you’ve just said and as willing as you were, his voice dropping a notch.
“I can’t get what doesn’t seem to be mine.”
He makes it out in a hopeless tone, disregarding the fact that you’ve opened up countless of times and how the both of you knew it wasn’t just the title of friends the both of you had.
It irks you to know that he’s still found a way to make out that you’re the antagonist, making you pull at your hair and pace around in so much pent-up rage and confusion.
“Because you don’t wanna be mine!”
“Or maybe you can tell this friend of yours to fuck off and fucking change this shirt before I go mad and take it off myself.”
He was being an absolute asshole, angry tears pouring down on your cheeks because he just can’t understand what you’re trying to get across. The only standpoint that mattered to him is his and his only, clouded with nothing but his ego and selfishness.
“You can’t fucking do this, Harry! You can’t just come and go without an explanation!”
You were absolutely helpless, hands almost trembling as the thoughts that have kept you awake for better and for worse coming at bay again, and it’s more of the latter.
“You kissed me, for fuck’s sake!”
“And I regret it!”
Harry answers back as quick, seeing your face fall in front of him in rather slow motion as he could only barely feel your pain at the moment, too numbed by the buzz he gets from fighting.
“I regret it because-…”
He tries to explain, voice cracking yet interrupted by you quickly, head nodding no.
“I don’t wanna hear it, please. I really don’t.”
“What I was-…”
This time are you more persistent on to how you don’t want to hear any of it, screwing your eyes shut as he tries to counter back with the smallest of squeaks.
“I don’t wanna hear why I’m not enough for you from you, Harry. Please,” he feels no use in interrupting because he knows he’s not gonna win this war, your wording making him slowly succumb into the guilt forming, “if you care about my dignity a bit more, you should leave my house right now.”
And he tries to explain, but he knows how your shoulders rise and fall to just say you don’t wanna hear any of it all over again.
Harry leaves uneasily with a great mass of pain in his chest (and the guilt was only starting to settle in), and your voice replays in his mind almost teasingly but hauntingly; hands on his pockets as all of his worst sides once again took control of him.
“You know that if you go on like this, you’ll scare me off even more and we’ll never get to be with each other? You understand that right?”
+
The next time Harry sees you, it’s completely coincidential.
Inevitable at that since it’s him also having the same circle of friends as you do, parties being thrown left and right because it was the holiday season and well… he really had nothing better to do since hanging out with you has been thrown out of the discussion ever since two weeks ago.
He’s feeling good at the moment and he’s a hundred percent sure it’s just the buzz and none of it real. Everything feels superficial for him at the moment that he feels sick to his stomach, wanting to be grounded so badly by you.
Harry’s thankful that it’s only a house party, and even though he feels that the booze, the music and the lights could rival a proper nightclub, he feels more comfortable here like it’s only an extension of his home he’s barely gotten out of.
He’s not really alone at this party because as what he reckons, Jeff is still probably wading his way to find actual food because he’s starving and Roman’s probably here somewhere. It just happens that he’s alone and he’s okay with being alone, it’s just that him being alone now meant being alone with his thoughts too, and the thought of that itself makes him shudder and down the remaining beer he had in his bottle.
His gaze looks around, somehow yearning because he wishes he had someone to put his arm around and there’s no other person that could fill in that someone besides you. Only you.
Must have been somehow of cruel fate that the moment he let his mind finally delve into the thought of you and recount what he did, it’s in the same exact time that his eyes glosses over a silhouette he’d recognize anywhere.
Harry, either to his luck or pure hurt, sees you in the party he’s in too. Sitting on one of the couches and the worst thing is-
You’re not alone.
Joined by a bloke who he assumes is the same guy Mitch has caught you texting and smiling about; the same guy who’s probably lended you his shirt because yours got wet.
He didn’t actually know how to feel about it, because not only is he overwhelmed from not seeing you after so long (two weeks to he exact), but it’s also to how the bloke next to you, no matter how much of a bloke he is, is the roots of his insecurity.
Don’t get him wrong — he’s not hideous. Just looks like average with platinum hair and a tall stature as he’s figured and even though in the back of Harry’s mind does he know that this bloke has absolutely nothing on him, he can’t help but think on what it it’s the other way around.
He feels so sad and mad at the same time that he’s unconscious of his knuckles turning white as he grips his bottle, rage bubbling up in him fairly too quickly.
He’s just watching the both of you — watching the gentle touches and smiles and laughs that he feels frozen in his seat, his mind blank as he’s not processing the live image right in front of him.
It’s dawning at him that it feels so painful and-
Is the fucking bloke gonna kiss you?
He screams internally at that and it only comes out as a choked-out whimper, wanting to not see it at all but his eyes felt too compelled to see what was gonna happen — seeing you briefly look up at him and have your eyes close when the bloke leans down and-
Harry’s literally trembling and he just can’t take it anymore, not waiting it out as he’s delayed from getting to you as quickly as possible with all the bustle in the place before he gets to reach you on the other side of the room.
“Hey. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
He says as if it’s the most normal thing as possible and as if no one was hurt — and in the other end it’s just you with your jaw slacked being in absolute disbelief, an influx of different emotions being too unbearable for you.
Harry throws on the sweetest smile and it’s the actor in him, making good solid eye contact with the bloke even if internally he wanted nothing but to deck him, and Grayson (that was his name) the one being to freak out.
“Oh my god! Harry Styles? Is that — it’s him, Y/N!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
You dismiss him at that because while you he was getting excited, you were dreading. Neck-deep in your pain all over again and he’s paining at the thought of that too.
“Nice meeting you, mate. Y/N here is m’very close friend. You mind if I borrow her for a bit?”
Hated the word borrow because only in that bloke’s dreams could you be his. It implied that you weren’t his and it’s like the physical feeling of nails against a chalkboard, swallowing the lump in his throat at the thought.
Grayson immediately obliges and rambles on which he waves off, and it’s not like he didn’t need to ask because Harry’s not gonna take no for an answer either way.
Only pretended that everything was okay until you’re at the porch and is so close to his car, much less people unlike inside, taking the opportunity to be completely over it, considering you only went outside in the first place so that Grayson would be more clueless than he actually is.
“I’m not going.”
“We’re gonna talk.”
He says as neutral as possible, switching his gaze from the ground and to you.
“Now you want to talk? For fuck’s sake, Harry.”
Your tone wasn’t aggressive — just a tired one. Every conversation you’ve been having with Harry lately is nothing but crippingly painful, arguments being stuck in your mind until you’re deprived of rest as it consumed you wholly.
“Lovie, please, just come with me and-…
“Don’t call me lovie!”
It’s a complete 180 when the term of endearment you haven’t heard in so long is thrown at the table, hating how it made you feel which is why you raise your voice at him, you arms tucked across your chest.
Attention was garnering around the two of you mad quickly, getting your words out before someone pulls out a phone and films.
“I don’t want a scene. Just leave.”
“Not leaving until we talk like proper adults. Don’t care if we’re all over Twitter tomorrow. I jus’ — just need y’to come with me.”
Harry means what he says, standing firm in his ground that you know he’s not gonna budge and you know time was quickly running out before you’re in the headlines for all the wrong reasons.
It was of defeat when you walk over to his car, waiting for him to click it open as you cuss to how it was only a two-seater, your previous memories in this same exact one not being the best either.
Harry knows that it’s not time to rejoice yet. Getting you in his car is enough of a task and he can’t fathom what’s gonna happen the moment the both of you arrive in his place — quite frankly, he doesn’t know what to say.
There was no plan because he dove into this with his head first and his eyes closed. Being so tense that the drive home is more tensioned than a taut bow that it makes him tremble, not attempting to hide it as his thoughts blurred his view of the road.
Emotions were sinking in but there were no words forming, time flying by so fast that he only realizes he’s just entered his front door with you behind.
Harry realizes that he’s mad. So mad that he’s absolutely raging and he feels like a ticking time bomb, deep breaths doing nothing and being absolutely useless.
“You kissed him.”
He states to himself and he’s still in shock, not wanting to savor the words in his mouth but it still leaves a bad taste on him, panic settling in him like a suspenseful musical score before the unexpected note drops.
“You kissed him, you kissed him, you kissed him, you kissed him, you-…”
He’s *pacing, packing panickedly as he feels hot tears stinging in his eyes as he pauses for a brief moment to look at you, looking absolutelt wrecked.
“So do you want him? Do you want him like you want me?”
The pure vulnerability he showcases makes you grounded to the floor, your voice of disbelief asking gently that it makes you chuckle humorlessly.
“Are you serious, Harry? Are you really asking me that?”
And he almost snaps at that as if there was a switch, actually feeling like he might go proper mad while he speaks since his thoughts are too fast for him to elaborate.
“Yes, I am fucking serious! Don’t you see? I distance myself from you for one second and here you are, seeing boys almost left and right!”
He sounds beyond unreasonable and irrational, so much so that your fists are clenched and there’s an impending load of angry tears that are ready to jump out at one second.
“Distance? You’re fucking kidding me! You brought that to your own, Harry, and this is just the outcome of what you did! Left and right? He is the only man I started to see and this is only the second date! You’re berating me for feeling after what you’ve done to me?
He could only stare at you in front of him; breathless and weary and suddenly all thoughts of a rebutt came out the door the moment your words sinked in to him.
Harry could be really dense at times.
Your lips pressed to someone else’s that isn’t his blinds him. Affection directed for anyone that could be viable enough to replace him makes him pathetically jealous. It makes his neck jerk and his throat hurt as if he’s a worm with all the salt thrown on it, his voice hoarse as he could only look at you hopelessly.
“Do you enjoy hurting me? Do you want me to tell you that I’ve been thinking for weeks about all the guys who’ve touched you and kissed you? Do you want me to tell you that I go mad every time I see that someone has marked you theirs even though you don’t even remember their names?”
He doesn’t know where he’s pulling all of this but he figures that this might be his regret and hurt personified, challenging and swallowing him whole that he forgets he’s becoming the poison to his own mind.
“You kissed him. Did you sleep with him too?”
He asks out in a whisper, almost snickering to himself as this was just trying to hurt himself further now.
“Is he your little boyfriend now, hm? Did you enjoy having him and all of them at your fucking feet?”
It’s this constant switch of thought he speaks out, his mind not well-versed at all and it goes to show how raw everything is right now, feeling absolutely spent as tears were shed like there’s no tomorrow.
“You know you have no right to say that. I can fuck whoever I want because as you’ve said, Harry — we’re not a thing.”
“So you did fuck him?”
“I don’t owe you an answer.”
He merely chuckles, wiping at his eyes and it only prompted for more tears to come out, sniffling as he shakes his head and trains his eyes on you.
“That’s an answer, Y/N.”
“So what if I’ve fucked him? Did you think you’d be the only one who’d want to touch me?”
You tilt your head at that because even you yourself are crying, almost bawling, in fact. It was anger condensed into the rawest form of pain that it felt impossible to say what you were thinking without busting into cracked voices and tears.
Harry pauses, eyes screwed shut and his hand lifting at the tiniest bit. He whimpers and shakes his head as if he were in a nightmare and is convincing himself that none of this was real.
“Don’t talk like that.”
It’s the softest of his voice that you’ve ever heard every time you talk to him, unbelievably vulnerable and open and it sounded absolutely worrying if only you weren’t in this scenario.
“Like what?”
He could only crumble at the soft tone you inquiringly reciprocate with, making him tuck his lips as he breathes out to say the most heartbreaking thing he could ever say.
“Like there’s been others.”
This makes you all to familiarly pace in so much confusion, hands gripping the collar of your shirt as your voice is desperate to crack.
“Harry you can’t think that my life evolves around you!”
And he agrees with that, so much so that he leans his head back and grips at his curls as he swallows down the painful truth he knew from the start.
“Fuck, Y/N. Do you think that I don’t know? It’s because I know, and because I see how you’ve got every fucking guy at your feet and I can’t say anything that we’re here — that we have something in the first place.”
“You’re jealous because you only want me as yours.”
“No — I’m jealous cause I fucking saw how you smiled at him and I don’t wanna see you looking at someone else the way you look at me.”
Harry is absolutely spent, feeling so weak that he looks at you hazily and with a question he’s always wanted to ask, needing to know the answer regardless if it hurts him.
“So please, tell me, do you want him like you want me?”
He’d never felt this anguished before, melancholy taking him wholly as he awaits for an answer.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you, Harry.”
It’s when he hears it does he absolutely crumble, his knees weak that he just gives out and settles on sitting in the floor against the back of his couch ungracefully, almost breathless in realization.
It’s when you decide to sit down next to him after much thought, does he realize that the fight is now long over, the main concern being so tired and now exposed that there was no use in making and continuing a conflict out of it.
“Have y’ever thought, just for one second, about what if we were together?”
It was a question you’ve always wanted to ask, wondering whether it was only you all this time and you needed to hear it for yourself.
“Every single day and I still do.”
Harry answers truthfully, nodding his head as he lifts up his head from having it low on the ground.
“I thought pushing you away would make me love you less. Do both of us some good. Make me forget that I don’t fall for you any deeper the more I see you.”
A load of bullshit as he thinks, chuckling to how it’s such a grand mistake that it makes him wince just by thinking he did something as hurtful as that.
“But fuck — y’see? M’an arrogant son of a bitch a-and — y’crying ‘cause of me right now.”
There’s only a brief pause for constructing a statement he’s been yearning on saying for so long, itching as he acknowledges his mistakes.
“There’s so much things for me to fix and I know it’s not gonna be fast but please-…”
You look at him over for that, not used to him being this vulnerable with the slightest touch having the capacity to unravel and break him.
You listen intently as Harry shakily breathes, taking only a second before versing something he’s never been sure of this much in his whole life.
“Let me make it right, yeah? Let me love you the way you deserved to be loved.”
He nods at the sound of himself saying that, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he admits.
“I don’t deserve y’at all, to be honest. Y’too good for me and I don’t wanna taint you.”
His fingers are fumbling with his rings nervously out of habit, an afterthought being spoken out as loud as his heartbeat.
“But sometimes we just want things that are out of our reach, hm?”
Harry gathers the courage to look at you this time, his teeth digging in softly to his bottom lip, never having been so sure of something as he pleads with his glassy eyes, a mere few inches away from you and the distance he wants to close with the heart he wants to mend.
“Let me try to be yours, please.”
