the writer // harry styles au

chapter 18

Alexis

Even if I had stayed with Will and loved him, there has always been something missing. I think about it a lot, about how perfect Will is and how I never really appreciate him. I want to admit to myself that I actually love Harry, but I always tell myself no. It's been 9 months, he's probably dating a different girl and hates my guts for never telling him how I felt - how I feel. Will had asked me once if there was someone else and if that was why I rarely told him I loved him.

I knew I loved him, I just wasn't sure that I was in love with him. He was too perfect for me. It just didn't add up. Then there was Harry, who had thought I was Alice, but was my type of perfect. He made everything come to life jut by talking about it, and his soft kisses were what I always craves. I knew I loved Harry, when he told me. But I also knew it was stupid to love him. He thought I was Alice, always has. It wasn't a mistake not telling him, but it was a mistake not staying with him.

Will turned next to me, propping his head up with his arm. His glasses were low on his nose, his chest was naked and perfect. A newspaper was held in front of him. "This guy, he was at your house at something like 2am on our first date? You know him?"

Will handed me the newspaper. Right in front of my eyes was a full page spread about Harry. There was a picture of him and another guy with styled hair, arms around each other'a shoulders, laughing. He looked happy. Eyes shon bright, grin larger than ever. I didn't know the other guy, but I sure as hell knew Harry. I felt like there was a literal pinch at my heart, pinching and pinching. It hurt to look at a picture of him, happy.

I laughed nervously, trying to hide the way I looked at Harry, the way I felt about him. "Yeah, did a photoshoot with him for the magazine. We used to go out for friendly 2am drink because we were both hopelessly single." God, I hope believes this. I tried to be as nonchalant as I could.

"Ah, okay. Well, he's having a book signing downtown for some book called 'Passers By'. Thought you might want to know." He leaned up and kissed my lips, saying he needed to sleep, and then settled down, body against mine.

I feel like I can't breath. My chest is pinching at my heart, my throat's closing up. I can feel tears in my eyes, ready to pour and pour out. After nine months of not seeing Harry, this picture did it. I hadn't actually seen in face in nine months. All I had were the memories of his smile and green eyes. I would constantly find myself wondering whether he was just at home in a black t-shirt and boxers,

lazing on his couch, watching TV. Then I'd remember how I fitted with him on his couch, close and cuddled up.

Before Harry, if someone told me that after I'd broken up with a guy and I was still crying over it nine months later, I would have laughed. As if! I would have said. I don't let boys define me. A boy did define me, though. He wrote a novel about a girl who had a messy, brown fringe and tangled hair. A girl who was me in every way but one: my head - my mind. But that definition led him to love, and led me to the stupidest decision of my life.

I was shaking too much, at the moment. I needed to get out of bed, away from Will's knowing mind, and alone with mine. I slipped from his grip, warm and tight. He groaned and moved in the bed, facing the other way. I changed into the dress I wore to the event and put on a coat. My converse shoes were here from a previous visit, so I slipped them on. I needed to walk, to where ever felt right - to where ever called me.

I grew up in London, which wasn't usually ideal for families, but my parents made it work. Dad was a surgeon, worked long hours. He didn't do it for the soul purpose of providing for us, he did love it. Mum worked at a publishing house. A popular one at that. We had lived in a small house, large enough for a family of two girls and two boys, though. It was situated not quite on the outskirts of London, but pretty close to. It was this little cream house, two story, vines growing crazily and freely on the front. Dad had never been into gardening, same with Mum, so it just kept growing. The identical houses next door we stripped of all plants and vines, making our house look entirely out of the ordinary.

For a moment, I wanted to walk all the way to the house. I wanted to talk to Mum and Dad at 3am with hot teas and a dopey father. Sit in the study and have Mum recommended books for me to read, saying they're 'really just something'. I feel like they'd comfort me, not question me about Will or why I didn't call them the second the ring was on my finger. They'd just be normal, caring, overbearing parents, and that's all I needed right now. But Harry could be the one other thing I could go for right now.

I knew where my feet were taking me in the cold London night. The streets were still alive, Will's apartment having to be situated right in central London. I knew I shouldn't be going to where I am, but I can't stop. My legs are getting cold and my hair's being blow back into my face by the frosted winds, but I'll make it there.

I know I'm close, I remember these streets. They were always darker at night, but people were still in the pubs and restaurants. I know that in one turn I'll be on the street, making my way to the house and possible making a stupid, stupid mistake. But my mind's not clear. All I can hear is just get there, just get there.

And there it is. That house. I find myself going up to it, ringing the telecom doorbell, waiting to hear the raspy voice mumble through it. But that's not what I hear. All I hear is the beep that the front gate is unlocked. I push on it, walking up to the front door as quickly as I can because I am fucking freezing.

As I look up, I see it. I see his bare chest, his long, curly hair. I see the stupid mistake I made and I realise how stupid it was to come here. I'm staring into his eyes, and they're not shining. They're not happy like the picture, they're not how they used to be. He's staring at me in all blankness, and I stare back.

Turn around, Alexis. Just leave. Run. I turn in the pathway, and I'm at the front gate, ready to go back to Will, but then I hear it. That one thing I haven't hear in so long it makes my heart yearn and cry out.

"Alexis?"

(A/N: I'm actually starting to like what I'm writing recently! Don't forget to vote and please comment! I love hearing what you guys have to say! Maybe comment what you think's going to happen next? I hope you enjoyed!)