SIX YEARS LATER || HS ✔️

one

But, Harry Styles, the one who cheated on me twice and was my first love, is standing in front of me.

And with all those past memories being recalled in the crack of my mind, I can't help but frown. My eyes force themselves not to bring back tears, old, unfreshened tears that have not been seen ever since six years ago. I had wondered too many times of where Harry had been after those six years, but I had finally come to the conclusion that I was the one who walked away, I was the one who needed to move on. When someone makes you the happiest and saddest person at the same time, that's when you know it is real. That's when it is worth something, but after Harry had the secret affairs, I knew it was in the dump.

I would kill to know what is going through his mind at this exact moment with his strong eyes on me. Maybe he is surprised or he has finally had the remembrance of our memories flashing through the small parts of his mind. Or, he could be in the same situation as I am, looking at his appearance and seeing how much each one of us has changed greatly. Except, I am looking at what has changed from his insides to the outside, from his mind to looks. 'Things can change,' Harry always used to tell me. My vision clears after a short moment of the thinking, and I can see the frown of my ex-lover that was once mimicked onto my face. Instantly, I take in his different appearance, seeing how he has changed over the longing years. His curls have grew longer, to the point of where they are being held up by his shoulders.

"I hate my hair this way," he grumbles, pulling at the long strands and frowning. "It's so damn long."

"It's," I pause to look at it myself, reaching out my hand to tug at one of the curls. "Cute, I like it."

"But don't you like my short hair?" Harry questions and pouts, taking my small hand in his large.

"Indeed, I do."

My head shakes as if to get the sent away from my brain. Strange violet designs are littered onto the royal blue colours of his button-up, which is not buttoned. And from what I can recall, Harry never liked buttons in his past years, but things change. From what I see in this moment, he still agrees with his background. A black shirt is under the designed button-up, making the shirt bring out its unorthodox style. The well-known black skinny jeans are wrapped onto his legs as well as the famous black boots upon his large feet. Harry still has kept that wild fashion.

And suddenly, my arm is grabbed by Nicky, walking me over to the poison called my first love.

"Brooklyn!" She screams in my ear due to the alcohol in her system, her nails digging into my arm ever so violently. "I would like you to meet-"

"Harry," I breathe out and finish for her, not intentionally doing so. His seemingly darker eyes widen as well as Nicky's, and I know he was not expecting me to speak out like that.

"So you two know each other?" Nicky slurs slightly, wobbling and I feel her grip become looser.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, my lips work before my mind can. "Well, something like that," I waver off, looking around the room to notice others simply chatting and drinking the poisonous liquid from their small cups.

But God, how I really do wish I let him speak instead of me. Desperately, I want to know what Harry was going to say, the words he would utter that would either make me frustrated or have a small smile on my face. But, from the way the sides of his mouth are lifted down in a manner, I can already see that he will speak in the moment.

"We used to be good friends," he interjects, noticing the slight confusion of Nicky's drunken face. Immediately, I hear the use of the way Harry had emphasized the word 'good,' strongly.