the writer // harry styles au

chapter 35

Exerpt from Passers By: a novel by Best Selling Author, Harry Styles

Of everything I've done wrong in my life - of everything I've let pass by in the blink of an eye - what I'd screwed up with Alice seems to have been by far the worst of all tragedies. I hadn't yelled at her, or hurt her, or muttered a bad word to her. I'd said it. And even if this seemed to be the wrong thing to say at what seemed like the perfect moment, I didn't regret it, but it did ruin what I had with her.

I remeber the way I saw her cheeks fall limp from the smile that was once painted on her face. Her face seemed to have lost all colour, like this simple confession was the end of the world. And to say it hurt seeing her like this after I had admitted what my heart had been pushing at me to say wouldn't even cover that pain that shot through my body when I realised she wouldn't say it back to me.

God, pain like thats shouldn't exist. It fucking hurts. It's like when you're watching a gory film, and there's blood and guts everywhere, and then there's this one shot of this innocent man, and then, in what always seems to be slow motion, he's stabbed - in the stomach, neck, back - and you see the life leave his eyes. You see the way he's lost all of his life. Gone, in a second. And you know he isn't coming back to life, no matter how many people cling at his side, screaming at the bastard who stole his soul, crying, pleading for the life to come back into his eyes, for the colour to rise to his cheeks again. That won't happen.

But then again, sometimes love is only a wound. A small slash to an arm, maybe the amputation of a limb, but you're still grasping onto your life. You still have that colour in you cheeks and life in you eyes, but sometimes it's not the same. That removal of a limb, that slash on your arm, that if it hadn't been tended to so quickly, could have led to your bled of out death, changes you. It's not the same, no matter how much someone tried to fix it, no matter how much love and support you get for staying strong. It's not enough to help you remember what it was like without that large scar.

I'll always have the image of Alice slowly moving back and away from me, hands running up and into her hair, face pale and plastered with an unpleasant shock.

I don't know why she reacted how she did, but it was careless. She's left me with a wound that's not healing, and it slowly bleeding until there's nothing left inside me - no life.

***

Harry

Zayn couldn't come to me, so I went straight to source. I'd been telling him about what Alexis had said and done to me. He had sat and listened quietly like he usually did, now I was just waiting for what he had to say, which would be a lot.

"What a bitch," he says. He pushes himself up further in the bed, the uses one of his hand to motion for the water on the bedside table. I hand it over to him.

"She's not a -" I stop myself, because yeah, she kind of is a bitch.

"She's a bitch, Harry," Zayn confirms. "She's a soon to be housewife who's looking for a fling before she's whisked away into married life. She's got you fooled, mate."

Maybe Zayn's looking at it the right way. Maybe she just needed that last rush before she found herself promised to another. But it wasn't a fling. We never had sex, not while she's been with Will. If she wanted that last fling she could have run off to any guy, fucked them, and have been off with it. But she came to me. She kissed me with love, she told me she loved me, which she hadn't done previously. It didn't feel like a fling.

"We never fucked," I tell Zayn. He chokes on his water. Just a little bit.

"Ever?" he asks.

I shake my head, laughing. "We had sex, just not while she's been with Will."

Zayn cocked his head back, looking at me like I was insane, which I'm starting to think is true. Why hadn't I had sex with her? Why didn't I let her come into my bedroom on that first night she came running to me, engaged or not. I should have kissed her, loved her, felt her. I should have pinned her to that kitchen wall again, showed her what she was missing, what she gave away. I was an idiot.

"Why not?" Zayn asks.

I shook my head, laughing. "I don't know, man!"

Zayn then launches himself into his advice: "Maybe you weren't her last fling, Styles. I don't understand they attention you get from women in general. But this girl seems to love you that little bit too much. I don't know why she went back to what's-his-face; he seems like an ass. Maybe you need an explination before you decide to renounce women and then become one of those dud, alcoholic writers. Just see her one more time. Oh, no, man. You know what you should do? Crash her wedding in the bit where the priest is like, 'Blah, blah, blah or forever hold his peace,' and then break through the church doors and go, 'No, wait! I love her!' Then, run away into the distance - actually, no, ride away on a motorbike into the distance while her wedding dress gets trashed as it drags along the groung." Zayns words start to get drowsier and drowsier, and I can tell the medication;s getting to him, so I get up and leave.

"I'm going to head off now," I say, standing from the chair, which creaks as my weight is lifted from it.

"Hey, we were just getting talkin'," Zayn says nearly - nearly - incoherently.

"Yeah, and you were just about to fall asleep and have a wet dream," I say.

"..haven't had a wet dream since 2010. Better get to sleep. I've been missing.." He's mumbling so much I don't even want to try and say goodbye properly, let alone hear him go on about his wet dreams.

So I'm out the door. I walk the corridors of the seconds floor and all I can think is, why do they make these places so morbid? The dull, pale blue walls, the plain blue scrubs, the tired, overworked nurses. It makes you wonder why they don't cheer the place up a bit. So many people die between these walls, and they've decided to fit the theme of Well Your Loved One's Dying, So We've Tried To Keep The Place As Sad As You Are.

I stand at the elevator, waiting for the Ting! so I can escape this place that's making me depressed, but I hear my name, called by what couldn't be Zayn because his voice was too low, too elderly. I turn to find, yes, an elderly man, but one I was only slightly familiar with: Alexis' dad.

He jogs his way up to me, but why? Of what intresIt am I to him?

"Hello, Harry. Sorry to startle you like this," he says, holding his hand out for me to shake.

"No, it's fine." I don't know whether to act like the boyfriend who's trying to impress, or the friendly stranger. Either way, I can't be rude; I might actually end up with Alexis.

"Look, I know you know who I am, and I'm familiar with your face and circumstance with my daughter, and I wanted to say thank you."

"Huh?" This doesn't make sense. Oh, and fuck the elevator's opening up behind me. What does he want?

He laughs, a proper, man-in-his-fifites laugh. "My daughter was different when she was explaining you. She sounded like she wanted to be with you. A lot," he explains to me. He doesn't know that hearing that Alexis wants me but isn't with me chews away at my heart, little by little.

"Uh, thank you?" I say.

"Look" - he ignores what I've said - "Will isn't wasting time. He's always loved Alexis - and a father can tell - so now, after all this with you, he's got a tighter grasp on her than ever. Metaphorically, of course."

"I'd kill him if he actually hurt her," we find ourselves saying at the same time. It's weird.

"I'll let you go," he says. The elevator doors are opening up again. I move away from Alexis' dad. Then, just as the door's about to close - deja vu - he says, "Win her back."

What?

(A/N: yay another chapter!! soooo, you guys should go check out my other fanfic 'overbearing love'!!! anyway, pleaseeee comment!! i love what you have to say - even if it's just hi!! don't forget to vote!! xxxxx)