ONE DIRECTION ONE-SHOTS

Stumbling by hesinstripes

From what I can remember of the past two years, things would always go something like this: She'd express concern for my health, whether it was the drinking, the depression, or just generally letting myself go. I would get defensive and lash out at her to avoid having a conversation that needed to be had. I'd call her names and tear her down. She claims I threw a Teen Choice Award at the wall once, but with 25 still on the shelf it didn't seem like one was missing the next morning. She was probably right. Looking back she was almost always right. I'd sober up a little or awake to see her crying and my charm would win her over. I'd make her laugh with a joke or a tickle and she'd see my smile start to creep in. She never could resist my smile. My dimple gave her hope that I was changed and happy again. I could see that hope in her eyes, and I would use it selfishly to keep her for myself longer.

But it was just hope, not the truth, which I guess makes it hopeless. Corinne's existence became just that- hopeless. She couldn't take anymore verbal attacks, so she went into survival mode. Her light had faded and she was just getting through each day as unscathed as she could. I think she was only there out of concern for me. She knew no one else would put up with me anymore and the thought of what would become of me if she left was too much for her. She knew I'd be lost without her. Looking back, she was completely lost because of me. Destroying her is my biggest regret. Far greater than the destruction I did to myself.

So that led to today, a Tuesday in the middle of spring where things started much like they always had. She rolled out of bed, though she slept so close to the edge of the mattress now that she didn't have to roll much. Her newly awakened limbs stretched and shakily carried her to the bathroom and I watched her shut the door. I drifted back to sleep knowing she'd be getting ready for the day and I'd have at least another 45 minutes uninterrupted. But today I was wrong.

My world shook as Corinne dropped an already full duffle bag onto the bed, stirring the crisp white sheet from the corner where she lay her head. I sat up and pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to lessen the hangover blaring between my ears. I didn't have to ask where she was going, I knew, but I still protested.

"Baby I love you. Please let me make this right," I uttered the same words I had surely uttered before.

"Harry, saying you love me isn't enough, not this time," Corinne said with the delivery of a mouse. I hated that I had done that to her. I had left her voiceless. Diminished her to a squeak.

"Let me show you it's enough. You're all I need. Baby we could be enough."

"Could we?," her voice was louder and almost angry now. Her fire rising to the surface as she finally fanned the embers of self-worth that I had nearly extinguished. "I've been living in this house with you, but I've never been more alone. You say you love me, but you've done nothing but show me the opposite. I've begged you to change, I've offered to help you, but I can't anymore. I have to choose myself this time. I know that I'm enough."

She was more than enough, but I had let that slip away. I had no argument. Anything I would say or do at this point would be pointless. The light that had been missing from her eyes for months was back. I looked at my own reflection in her crystal blue eyes and knew that the light behind them wasn't from me. It was from the decision to leave me.

I had made her my home, but neglected to maintain her. Now the walls were crumbling and I'd be left in the rubble, no- just the dust. There wouldn't be any pieces of her that remained for me. Just the memory of a once sturdy foundation that gave way to complacency, denial, delusion, and selfishness. I expected her to be my everything while giving her nothing. She was my comfort, and I ignored her discomfort. She was my escape and it left her feeling trapped and burdened with the responsibility of my well-being.

The sun has just begun to set. I haven't left this spot, except to be sick a time or two. I don't know if that's from the twisting feeling in my gut, the alcohol, or the lack of alcohol. This is the longest I've gone without a drink all week. I've sat here long enough to indent the mattress while I replayed the past few years, finally seeing it in a new way, the way she saw it. The way she lived it. I'm not prepared for what it feels like to lose love. It's even harder a feeling to explain than love itself. It's regret, sorrow, and guilt all pulling you into the deepest pit of loneliness. My chest hurts and my heart aches, but I wouldn't dare ask for the pain to go away. It's the last reminder I have that I loved her. Still love her. That she loved me.

I wonder how much longer I can relish in this feeling that she was there. That she was a part of me. That she coursed through my veins and gave me life; a life I was so careless with. A love I was so careless with. No matter how hard I am going to try to appreciate my own in life in the way she had, I know it won't make her come back. Our love has expired in the most morbid sense of the word. Now that she's gone it's not an empty house or home that I fear.

It's an empty heart.