He wasn't fair to me. He didn't treat me right. He was disrespectful and rude and an absolute arse.
Because the very next week after he left me, they announced they were taking a break for a year. And my stupid hopes shot through the sky and reached the stars because I remembered what he said to me and what I said to him and how he made me feel and I hoped he felt the same just because I wanted to see him again.
And I guess he did feel the same, because that March, when they quit and went their separate ways and all the girls physically died, he flew to me. And I met him at the airport and watched him walk across the white floor holding his bag and keeping his sunglasses on like no one was going to recognize him. And I watched him try his best to satisfy everyone and make everyone happy, all the while keeping his eyes on me. Little old me, standing against a pillar, probably having a heart attack and getting too close to dehydration because all the water was leaving my body through my eyes.
But then it was real, and he stood in front of me and I looked up at him with his facial hair that was much too long and his hair that still hadn't been cut and his sunglasses that were hiding his emerald eyes from me. And I didn't let him touch me because I had to see the most beautiful color I've ever seen so I pushed his sunglasses over his forehead and caught them in his hair and then set my trembling hand on my dry mouth. Because it was him and he was real and he was in front of me because he wanted to be and not because I paid for him to be.
And then he was hugging me and I was hugging him. And I was crying into his soft chest as he rubbed his awkward hands over my spine and kissed my hair.
And the fans who came for him were suddenly there for us, with their phones pointed at our joined bodies, getting every picture they could because they wanted to be the fan account that figured out who I was and ruined my life because I wasn't them.
But I didn't care. I didn't care because the only person that I've ever given my whole heart to was standing in front of me, his shoes touching mine, pulling my chin up to his so that he could kiss me.
And I heard the heart-shattering screams around me as I smiled with my lips against his because no one had ever seen Harry Styles kiss a girl before. And they all started calling me the worst words in the book, but I didn't care because his chest was against mine and his lips were between mine and his fingers were dancing with mine and I loved him.
I loved him and I love him and I will love him.
Then, he tucked me under his arm and told me to not listen to them because he thought I was very beautiful. And he pushed me through the people who were clawing at my hair and picking at my clothes with as little violence as he could to get us to safety.
He took me home and stuck a book in my hands as he walked away from me again. And I yelled at him that he better not be breaking my heart again and he just told me to read the book.
Later, I found out that it was his book. It was a new black journal that I'd never seen before and the author was him and the character was me. It was all about me. Every page was a different day that he spent without me. The last page was single sentence that made me grab my keys and run out the door of my apartment and across the street.
I bought a flat across the street from hers and I don't hate myself for it.
