Songs for this chapter are:
Chariot - Gavin Degraw
Demons - Imagine dragons ( I use this song a lot but it's like After Harry's anthem)
Use Somebody- Kings of Leon
I know it's hard to wrap your head around but I think-" I offer. I am caught between wanting to comfort him and the need to protect myself.
"I'm fine. I need a shower." Harry interrupts me. I sit up, trying to pull the blanket with me to cover my naked body.
"I'm here if you want to talk about it. I wanted to be the one to tell you about all of this." I offer, trying to hide the sting in my chest caused by his withdraw. Here I am, here we are, in this endless loop of happiness, lust, passion, overwhelming love, and pain. The pain seems to win, it always wins and I'm tired of fighting.
I watch, forcing myself not to care, as he pulls his shorts up his legs and crosses the room. The moment the door closes, I smack my hands to my forehead and rub at my temples. What is wrong with me that I can't seem to see anything but him? Why did I wake up this morning ready to face life without him, only to find myself in his bed hours later?
I hate that he has this power over me but for the life of me I can't stop it. I can't blame him for my weakness, but if I was going to I would have to argue that he makes it difficult to see the clear lines of right and wrong. When he smiles at me, those lines blur and mix and it's literally impossible to fight the pull that I feel when I'm near him.
He makes me laugh just as often as he makes me cry and he makes me feel when I was convinced that my fate was the nothing. I fully believed that I would never feel anything again but Harry pulled me out of that, he grabbed my hand when no one else seemed to care enough to do so, and he pulled me up onto the surface.
None of this changes the fact that we cannot be together. We simply don't work and I can't allow myself to get my hopes up again, only to be crushed when he pulls back, when he takes back everything he has confessed and I refuse to be ripped apart, again, by the only hand that helps me.
Here I am, face in hands, obsessively overthinking the mistakes made. My mistakes, his mistakes, our parents mistakes and how mine seem to be eating away at me, refusing to allow me any peace.
I got a hint of it, a hint of serenity and calm when his hands were on me, his mouth hot on mine, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin covering my hips, but minutes later I am alone. I'm alone and hurt and embarrassed, and it's the same story, only an even more pathetic ending than the last installment.
I'm on my feet, refastening my bra and tugging Liam's sweatshirt over my head within seconds. I can't be here when he returns in a few minutes. I can't spend the next ten minutes preparing myself for whichever Harry decided to make an appearance. I've done this too many times and I finally got myself to a place where my need for him wasn't so overpowering.
He wasn't consuming my every thought, he wasn't responsible for my every breath, and I was finally able to see a life after him.
This was a relapse. That's all it was. This was a terrible lapse in judgment and I'm harshly reminded of that by the silence of the room.
I'm dressed and in my room by the time I hear him opening the bathroom door. His footsteps grow louder as they pass and it only takes him a few seconds to realize that I'm not in the room he left me in.
He doesn't knock, I knew he wouldn't, before he enters the room.
I'm sitting on the bed, legs crossed and held in front of me, protecting myself. I must look pathetic to him, my eyes are burning with regretful tears and my skin smells of him.