You Sunshine, You Temptress (l.s)

Forget What I Said

"Okay... okay love if that's what you feel you need to do, then okay," she says sweetly, taking slow steps toward me and wrapping her arms around me securely. 

And I'm glad she understands because I can no longer spend another day without hearing his voice. I can't do it again, it's killing me. Every morning when I wake without him next to me is nearly unbearable. It's hell, pure and utter misery, as if God himself damned me and this is my eternal punishment. I can't do it again. I just can't. I need to hear him speak. Even if it's screaming and curses thrown at me, I'll take it all. 

As long as I can hear him. 

She gives me a reassuring squeeze, sending me on my way before I say a quick goodbye to my sisters and grab my keys, heading out the door to find my boy and make this right. 

---

Classes began a little over 15 minutes ago, meaning I'm the fucking idiot who's rushing through the halls to get to class. The woman in the front office scolded me as I bolted in through the main entrance, but I couldn't care less. I need to get to my class. I need to get to him. 

I can see the door, my heart hammering inside my chest so relentlessly, and I'm certain if someone was next to me, they'd hear it. My blood feels heavy in my veins, the echo of it rushing to my head deafening me. My hand grasps the handle and before I can even step inside, it's gone. The determination I've felt melts away, pure terror appearing in its wake when I realize I'm about to see him. 

What if he's crying? What if he looks like an absolute train wreck, his small body trembling in his chair, skin ghostly and eyes blank? What if it's the complete opposite, and he's as happy as can be, already moved on from me...from us?

And as I step inside the classroom, the teacher turning to face me, I can't decide which version of him would hurt me more. 

"Mr. Tomlinson, if you're gonna be 20 minutes late to my class, please don't bother showing up at all."

He's here. Harry's here. He's sitting in this classroom, 20 steps away from me. I don't have to see him, I just know he's here. I know it. 

"Mr. Tomlinson... are you alright?" 

I nod, a little too eagerly if you ask me, but Mr. Beauchamp just looks me up and down before gesturing to my seat and turning his attention back to the board. 

I don't think I've ever walked so fast in my entire life, my gaze glued on the floor as I walk to the first vacant seat I can find (thankfully, a desk in the third row was open.)

I can't focus on the lesson being taught as the teacher drones on and on, I couldn't even if I wanted to. The only thought running through my frantic mind is Harry. Harry a few seats away from me, Harry in this room, Harry who I love, Harry who I broke, Harry who left me, Harry who may look at me right now and it's too much. It's too much at once, the thought of being in the same vicinity as him, so close I can practically feel him, but too far for me to touch. 

And before I know it, I'm on my feet, grabbing my bag from the floor and rushing toward the door like a bullet to a target. The air in the room felt like thick clouds of smoke, filling my lungs, suffocating and consuming every part of me and the moment I step into the hallway, it feels like I could collapse right here and now. 

My nimble fingers pull my phone from my pocket, clicking on Zayn's contact and trying to concentrate on my breathing as the line trills. 

"Yellow," Zayn says, a play on words I would normally make fun of him for, but now is not the time. 

"Are you here?"

"Yeah, skipped first block, though. Wasn't gonna sit through that bullshit," he says, and I hear a flicking lighter.