Half The World Away // H.S.

32// Break

hey... how y'all doing...

sorry i've been inactive i've got a lot on my plate now BUT IM BACK BABY

"Hey girly!" Maya says cheerfully as she slips into the passenger seat. I smile and begin to drive away from her and Liams house to the mall.

"So why are you out today?" she asks, turning up the radio.

"Harry and I got in a fight. A stupid fight." I sigh, replaying the last hour in my mind.

"Over what? Liam and I had a fight last week and I about took Winston and came to live with you." she laughs.

"Because I wouldn't tell him who got me in a bad mood." I tell her, realizing there's not a really answer for why we got in a fight. We just did.

"That's kinda dumb." she scoffs.

Now that I think about it, it's a really dumb reason for a fight. It makes him seem controlling when he's really not. I feel like I should apologize, but I'm not going to because I am London Ava goddamnit.

But Harry has taught me life is too short to hold grudges.

Damn you, Styles.

"Hey, can I drop you off, actually? I have something I need to do."

"Yeah that's fine, Liam and I had made plans to get dinner tonight later anyways." she says as I begin driving back to Liams house.

I drop her off and race home, hoping Harry even wants to talk to me. I get to our house and get out of the car, taking a deep, calming breath before going in the house. I close the door behind me and look around the kitchen, seeing a whiskey glass with ice in it on the counter.

Harry doesn't drink much.

Fear immediately washes over me and I set the keys and my bag on the table and quickly walk to the living room. I see Harry passed out on the couch all cuddled in blankets with golf on the T.V.

"Haz." I shake his shoulder, making his groan awake. "Why the hell is the whiskey out?" I ask, pointing over to the kitchen.

"I had a drink. So what?" he sits up with a tired groan, rubbing his face, yawning loudly.

"Is this because of the fight? Harry, you don't ever drink. Why now?" I talk softly, holding his hand as I sit next to him on the couch.

"No..." he drags it out, looking at me knowingly. I sigh and nod, bringing his knuckles to my lips and kissing them softly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blow up at you, I'm just stressed and the call... it wasn't my Mom. I'm sorry for lying too." I mumble, hanging my head. Yeah, it was my fault for lying I'll admit.

"So you lied? London, you could've said it wasn't your Mum! Why'd you lie?" he says, snapping his hand back.

I knew it was a dumb decision to lie but I didn't have any other choice! I wish we could just rewind time and I could've said something else.

"Because I didn't want you to stress with what it really was! Harry, you don't understand how much pressure I have on me right now!" I say, standing off the couch. He stands up too, ready to yell back at me.

"Pressure of what, London? You're not motherfucking Harry Styles! Imagine how much pressure is on me! And now the one person I can actually trust is lying to me!" he scoffs.

So he really thinks that just because I'm not the Harry Styles, I don't have any pressure weighing on me? Bullshit.

"Yeah, well imagine being Harry Styles' girlfriend! You have no fucking idea how much hate and death threats I get. Harry, I've started to believe them. And with Calum on my fucking ass 24/7, hell yeah I have pressure!" I can feel the tears start to well in my eyes from the anger.

"Wait you're believing what they say?" he immediately softens, his once tense body, relaxing.

"Oh my God." I scoff, rolling my eyes. So once I say I was believing the people, now I have a reason to be down and depressed? What the hell.

"So once I say that I'm believing the death threats, then I start to matter? Then I get a reason to be stressed and pressured?" I yell. I can't help the few hot tears that stream down my face.

"You've always mattered, London! It's just I didn't think that you had anything on your back!" he says like that's a plausible reason.

If it wasn't for my aggressiveness I would've been out of there in a heartbeat, but something tells me that I need to stay and prove him wrong so that's exactly what I did.

"Harry, I'm so fucking done with this! I love you but I hate being your girlfriend! You have no idea what I go through. The harassment, the verbal abuse, the death threats, the negative comments about every. single. fucking. thing. I do!" I cry, my face burning with anger and trying to hold back my tears.

"Then stop being my girlfriend! It's not that complicated!"

It takes me a moment to register what he just said. I didn't hear him right. There's no way. "W-what?" I choke on my own voice as I try to process what he just said. "You don't want me to be your girlfriend?" I say quietly.

"No! I didn't say that!" he gasps, grabbing me and wrapping me in his arms.

"Yes you did." I take his arms off me and look up at him in denial. "You said, 'then stop being my girlfriend' I heard you." I say, my broken voice never going above a whisper.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! It was in the heat of the moment, Lon." Harry grabs my hand, studying my broken face with sad eyes. He knew what he said. Why would he say it? Is he not happy with me? Is it something that I did or didn't do? I've always tried my best to be the best girlfriend I could, trust me it's not easy.

"But you said it. You knew you said it. I'm done, Harry." it takes all my strength to move me feet off the floor and walk away.

"London, please!" Harry shouts, grabbing my arm as I begin towards the door again.

"I'm sick of your fucking game, Harry! That's what it all is! A sick game! Is this what you did to Taylor?" I know I shouldn't bring past relationships into this, but he deserves it. Actually, he deserves none of my time or my energy but it's not that easy to let it go.

"No! No this isn't what happened to Taylor! Don't bring my ex's into this, London, that's not fair!" he says angrily. I can see all his emotion and anger and sadness pent up in him like he's almost to the break point.

Then break, Harry.

Because I am sick of getting my heart shattered every time I fall for a guy.