harry styles | my health teacher

42. m y s o n g

"peyton, i want you to finish tour with me."

his words replay in my mind. does he want me?

"peyton? did you hear me?" he asks with a concerned look on his face.

"y-yeah. i-i don't know what to say." i reply honestly.

"i know it's a lot to take in, but when i first saw you a couple nights ago after so long, my emotions were all over the place. i had a lot of regrets and i missed you, but i wasn't sure if it was just some feelings i didn't close off from the past or if it was actually something. after last night, i realize now. i realize i want to be with you again. i want to try to be an us again."

i stare into his thinking i'm going to wake up. thinking this is all a dream.

"This isn't a dream." he says to me. he knows me so well it makes my heart swell.

"I honestly don't know what to say. Harry, you cant commit to anything. I know you. You just get nervous and you back out and can't go through that again. It took me 6 years to get over you and I'm still not over you and now you want me back? I don't know harry, this is just too much." I let out.

"I-i love you Peyton. Please. I love you so much. I haven't stopped for 6 years. I promise I won't do that to you ever again. Please." He says sighing, tears brimming his eyes.

"I-i can't do this right now harry. I need to go." I say getting up and leaving.

No. This isn't happening.

—

When i get home, all i do is cry. I cry until I fall asleep. Then i wake up and cry again.

Harry texted me. I don't want to read it right now. I cant do this.

A few days later...

I'm starting to regret everything. I should have gone with him. He is my endgame and if he was giving me a change, I should have took my shot. I don't know how I could have been that stupid to do something like that.

I distract myself by going on instagram. Scrolling through my main page, liking my friends posts, commenting here and there. Until I reach a post from harry. One from last night, which was his first show since I left him.

It's a video. I play it and turn up the sound. I recognize the strums of his guitar. Then he starts to sing. Those lyrics. I recognize them.

Harry is singing the song he wrote for me.

My song.