Beautifully Flawed | Harry Styles [One Direction]

Introduction

“How very lovable her face was to him. Yet there was nothing ethereal about it; all was real vitality, real warmth, real incarnation. And it was in her mouth that this culminated. Eyes almost as deep and speaking he had seen before, and cheeks perhaps as fair; brows as arched, a chin and throat almost as shapely; her mouth he had seen nothing to equal on the face of the earth. To a young man with the least fire in him that little upward lift in the middle of her red top lip was distracting, infatuating, maddening. He had never before seen a woman’s lips and teeth which forced upon his mind with such persistent iteration the old Elizabethan simile of roses filled with snow.

Perfect, he, as a lover, might have called them off-hand. But no — they were not perfect. And it was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity.” 

                                                         ― Thomas Hardy, Tess of the d'Urbervilles

And there we were, standing face to face again, our gaze lost in each other’s, consuming silence around us.

My mind was blank – I wondered what he was thinking, if he was thinking the same I was thinking… Wait. What was I even thinking?

Probably that I didn’t expect to see him there, not again, not after everything we had gone through, not after what he had last told me. It was too strange to be standing in front of him again after a whole year.

365 days.

52 weeks.

8760 hours.

Such a long time.

Why was I even here, though? What was he even doing here?

“You came…” his words escaped his lips softly, maybe too softly, but succeeding to break the awkward silence between the two of us, bringing me back to reality, making me realize this was actually happening.

I nodded quietly, my eyes never parting his cold green gaze. “You too…” I mouthed, my voice cracking, giving me and my feelings away, making me realize that it was definitely not over, not for me at least. I nervously looked away from him into the distance. “It’s… it’s a pretty day today…”

I heard him sigh soundly and even though I wasn’t looking at him, I knew he was running his long fingers through his curls. I caught a glimpse of him doing it as he stared at me, quickly breaking the eye contact and shifting nervously on the ground.

“Yeah…” he sighed.

What was I supposed to do now, speak to him? About what?

Was I supposed to ask for forgiveness? Was I supposed to stay quiet and just wait until he spoke first?

What if he didn’t say anything? What if he just walked away and left me standing here with so many things to say?

Did I even know what I wanted to tell him? I wanted to say I was sorry, I was pretty sure of that. How would I start speaking?

As we silently watched the dark sky slowly lighting up, turning into many different shades of violet and pink, to finally see the first rays of sunshine bathe the hill before us, I came up with dozens of different phrases to say but none of them left my lips.

“I miss you,” he whispered, catching me off guard. “I just needed to say it,” he went on softly as I looked down at my feet and played with my fingernails nervously. “I’m not expecting a reply from you or anything. I don’t think you have anything to say anyway. I’m just glad that you remembered, that you came here today. It kind of proves you’re not a cold ass bitch as I called you that day.” He rambled on almost without breathing. “I’m sorry for saying that, I was kind of a jerk for doing it.” He smiled that same old cheeky grin that made my heart melt while he quickly glanced into my direction. “I didn’t really mean it.”

He looked so mature, so adult that I could barely recognize him. It had only been a year, how could he have changed so much in this time?

His shoulders looked broader and there was this almost unnoticeable stubble on his flawless tanned skin. He got a few more tattoos, I could clearly tell because I didn’t remember having ever seen that beautiful rose on his forearm or… where was the ‘Things I can’t’ one? That was probably one of my favourites.

“I got it covered,” he told me before I would ask and showed me the spot where that phrase used to be, now hidden by a new tattoo.

“A Bible?” I frowned. “Really?” I chuckled.

His dimples gave him away when he tried to hide a smile. “What can I say, I’m a devoted son of a bitch…” he said and I chuckled, taking a deep breath afterwards and closing my eyes as I exhaled. I wish we could stay like this forever.

Where had I gone wrong? How had I failed him? How could we fail each other?

I shook my head in silence and forced a few tears back.

He was all I could ever need, he was the man I wanted.

I knew I wasn’t perfect but he wasn’t perfect either: our flaws made us who we were, they made us beautiful wrecks, connecting us, allowing us to see we were both broken, that we were beautifully flawed.