Night Changes

30

I stepped passed Harry and up to the door, giving myself as much space between me and him as possible in the narrow hall. Despite my effort, I could feel his body close to mine, and it felt as if my own was leaning towards him. Like magnets pulling towards each other. I could smell the scent of his cologne, and had to physically stop myself from just leaning in and sniffing the shit out of him.

I opened the door to Louis apartment, venturing inside and stepping to the side to allow Harry in. He watched me as he entered, the look on his face one of nerves and restraint. The nerves I could understand, since I was feeling the exact same way in his presence at the moment. The restraint, I had yet to place.

I set my things on the floor inside the door, before walking over to the couch and taking a seat. Harry stood in the middle of the room for a moment, his eyes on me intently, before joining me. There was a noticeable space between us on the couch, and for that I was thankful. Not because I didn’t want to touch him, mind you. But because I did.

My eyes took him in, devouring him since that was the only sense that I could allow to do so. Despite how tired he looked, he was still beautiful. His eyes still pierced me, his lips still captivated me. The way he moved still caused my breath to quicken, my heart rate to stutter.

I didn’t know yet what I wanted to say, or how I wanted this conversation to go. I should have spent the last couple of days preparing what I felt I needed to express, rather than playing Jenga with Niall. But I didnt. I should have, because I know Harry. I knew he would show up sooner rather than later. That despite the fact he told me he would give me space, he wouldn’t be able to stay away for long. He wasn’t being as forceful as he had in the past when it came to trying to force my forgiveness, but he had still shown up only two days after our fight.

There were bits and pieces of what I wanted to say skirting around in my mind. But nothing seemed to form into an actual sentence, or any form of communication. I wanted to know how he felt, mainly. How did he feel about what happened? Why had he turned to drinking that night? Why didn’t he just talk to me, instead of lashing out? Why had he been pulling away all this time, drowning himself in his work if he knew all along he was being a dick? Why keep acting that way if you realize it’s a problem? What did he expect to happen now? Did he think I would just come back, as I always did?

That last question I already knew the answer to. Of course he did. Because I had set a precedent already, and it was one I had little doubt he would expect to continue. He would fuck up, we would fight. I would leave, he would beg forgiveness. And always, always, I would concede.

I felt conflicted. I wanted to go back, to be with him again. Of course I did. I loved him more than anything. I missed laying in bed with him, talking about the most random things. Laughing at stupid shows on TV, or just listening to the sound of his heart beat as he slept.  I missed him.

But at the same time, the man I had been missing those things with had been gone much longer than the two days I had spent here at Louis’. Harry had changed, he had pushed me away and made me not only feel like I was not important to him, but had actually caused me to fear him. Even if it was only for a short time, on one night, it still happened. And I couldn’t just go back without him realizing just how much that hurt. And that it wasn’t something I would tolerate.