Harry Styles Imagines

Driver's License.

And all my friends are tired of hearing how much I miss you, but I kinda feel sorry for them, cause they'll never know you the way that I do.

"I drove through Cheshire today." I blurt, clanking my fork against my barely touched plate.

"Really?" My best friend Lee calls out. "How was it?" She continues shoveling peas into her mouth.

"Hard." I pick at my salad some more. "Yeah, proper hard."

"Well, stalking can be difficult, love." My other friend Claire blares. "You've driven to Cheshire every week for the past six months." She laughs, inviting the other girls to join in. "I'm shocked you can afford that much petrol."

"Leave her alone." Lee says. I silently thank her, relaxing my shoulders and continuing the salad scavenge. "She's hurting."

"It's been half a year. It's time she moves on."

"Please don't speak about me as if I'm not here." I mumble.

"Fine, then let me speak to you directly" she looks me dead in my eyes, "Harry's moved on, you should too."

"What?"

"Harry let go of this shit weeks after. You're just holding on to some bullshit hope that he will come running back to you." I go to speak, but she cuts me off. "You dumped him. You wanted independence and to figure out what you wanted long-term. He's moving forward and figuring out how life works without you. If you wanted to remain friends or leave the door open, you should've addressed that, but you didn't. So, shut up and stop being so pathetic. Harry deserves to find happiness. He suffered months before you did."

"That's enough." Lee breaks the conversation. "I think she gets it."

"She obviously doesn't. Every time we are together she's crying about Harry and begging for our sympathy. Harry was a good guy and she ruined it, just because we are her best friends doesn't mean we need to coddle her."

"She's right." I admit, grasping Lee's hand next to me. "I'm sorry if my constant mentioning him offends you all, or annoys you. He's just too good to forget, I guess." I tighten my entire being, essentially stopping my body's innate reaction to sob. "How's everyone's exams going?" I smile.

•

"They just don't know him like I do." I whine, flopping onto my sectional sofa. "He's so kind and sweet and he always smells like vanilla." I lose myself in the memories. "He's just perfect." My dog, Gattie whines, "Not you too! You were all I had left in the 'talk about Harry' department." She shuffles away, running to her crate in my room. "Love you too." I sigh.

My friends rant continues to ramble throughout my brain. I have been a wee bit overbearing lately. It's difficult when the grief begins later than the loss. When we originally broke up, I didn't feel a thing. I was numb, and no one could fathom why.

We weren't together long, just shy of a year, but it was nearly a year of a love that only books can encapsulate. He loved me endlessly and I was the stupid character who realized too late.

Harry was good. Beyond good, he was everything. He could've tore my heart in half, and I would've trusted him to fix it. He was too good to be true at times, which is one of the reasons I ended things. Partially because I felt unworthy, but there were moments where he was moving faster than my soul could bear. I hadn't been in a relationship before him. He was my first boyfriend, kiss, love, but with all those incredible firsts, unrealistic, painful firsts came along too. Jealousy, worry, doubt. It was like we'd take one step forward, and three steps back.

I realized now why so many women choose not to fall in love. If you fall, you risk getting hurt, and if the inevitable happens, you're left wanting a love to make up for the one you lost; or hating every person who finds love while you sulk in the back of a dark, crowded room.