In which all Fitz can do is stand and stare in shock as it all comes tumbling down.
Chapter 28
Normally, I hung around on campus for the hour-long break I had between classes on Wednesday afternoons. I'd get a tea or visit Macy at the Hub Cub or go to the library under the pretense of catching up on class readings but spend the entire time people-watching.
One particular Wednesday, however, I made the trip back to the flat during that hour break. Most days, Harry would check the local weather forecast and tell me if there was anything unusual coming our way so that I could dress accordingly – but since talking to Harry had become synonymous with talking to a brick wall, I hadn't bothered asking for or expecting any updates.
Which was why I'd begun the day wearing a light pair of jeans, flats, and a spring jacket, only to curse loudly when I stepped out of a lecture hall and into a puddle the size of the Mediterranean Sea. Somewhere along the line, it rained. Poured. Everyone else on campus apparently got the memo and produced their umbrellas, but within seconds, I was drenched.
Sopping wet and cursing the bloody sky for the downpour, I burst through the door to the flat. Harry wasn't home, but still I slammed the door to my bedroom to change more out of annoyance than anything else. As I was struggling to peel my cold, wet jeans down my legs, I heard the front door open again, deep voices infiltrating the flat.
"It's not hard material, but she gets off asking tricky questions," Harry was saying.
"Are you joking? That woman's the antichrist."
My heart sped up, instantly recognizing the second voice as Zayn's. It was the two of them.
Harry sniggered in amusement. "Yeah, more or less. Wait here a second, I'll get my course book. It's under my bed somewhere."
I was in the middle of slipping on a new pair of jeans, but I froze when they were halfway up my legs, hoping that Harry wouldn't clue in to my presence while he was rummaging around in his room. The last thing I wanted was to join him and Zayn on their trek back to campus. A more uncomfortable trio I couldn't imagine.
It was also uncomfortable to stand half dressed in my bedroom listening to Harry throwing things aside and cursing through the wall.
After a minute or so of Zayn's chuckling and Harry's frustration, he called out,
"Found it!" I waited to hear his feet pad down the hall before I felt safe enough to finish dressing.
"Here."
"Brilliant. I owe you, man. That course is killing me right now."
"No worries. S'long as you copy the notes instead of spending every class coming on to the fit German exchange student in the back, you'll probably do a lot better than I did when I took it last year," Harry joked.
That earned another laugh from Zayn.
"Jesus, it's a downpour," Harry remarked. I glanced out my window, where the rain streamed at a violent angle. "You want food or something before you head back out there?"
"What've you got?"
"Lemme check." I picked up my wet clothes and threw them in my laundry basket while I listened to Harry rifle through the kitchen cupboards and the fridge. "Uh... crackers... bread... apples... celery... basically anything you can dunk in a jar of peanut butter."
"What?"
"Yeah." I could almost imagine Harry shrugging apologetically as he spoke. "Peanut butter is like crack to Fitz, so... that's pretty much what we eat."
"You serious?"
Harry gave a short laugh. "Yeah."
I opened my door just a crack for more efficient eavesdropping and couldn't fight the small smile that crept up on me.
"You don't buy your own stuff?"
"Not really. She does most of the shopping," Harry said – from the standoffishness in his voice, he was growing uncomfortable with the conversation – "'cause whenever I do it, she gets mad that I pick out the wrong brands or I get stuff she doesn't like. So she buys what she likes, and I get to eat it. Not a bad deal, really."
"Old married couple, you two."
There was a pause before Harry responded, "Not... exactly."
My smile faded as I lowered my gaze to the floor, leaning my cheek against the doorframe.
"Oh. Sorry," Zayn said, taking a bite of something crispy. Sounded like he'd chosen an apple after all. "Are things awkward here these days?"
"Um..." Harry trailed off, reluctant to answer. "Dunno."
Liar. He hadn't looked me in the eyes since the train home from his father's wedding.
"Must be weird, going on living with someone after that," Zayn continued, mouth full. "I know you said it was a mutual thing, but..." He gave a low whistle. "Gotta be rough."
Harry said nothing, although I imagined him rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort.
"You broken up about it? You and Liam could start a club." Amused by his own joke, Zayn added, "Though he's already in about a hundred of those."
"No," Harry said suddenly. "Listen – about that. There's something you should know."
As he sighed deeply, my entire being hung in a precocious balance. My heart clawed at my throat, and I sensed that if I were ever to make my entrance, it was the time. But something held me back.
"Fitz – June," Harry corrected himself, "she and I were never really... we weren't together."
I sucked in a breath and held it, eyes widened in paralyzing fear.
Unconcerned, Zayn took another bite. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it was kind of... fake."
That did it. My heart plummeted to my gut. It took every ounce of strength in my body not to burst out of my room and strangle my flatmate.
Harry. How could he?
"Huh?"
Harry proceeded to explain – how it had all started out as a ruse in front of his father, but how I'd liked the reaction it provoked in Zayn and, since I'd had a thing for him all this time, I saw it as an opportunity. He could have made me out much worse than he did by saying things like "she forced me", or "I was totally against it", but instead he told a story of two flatmates helping each other out in times of desperation.
Still, I couldn't ever remember being so angry with a single human being. Nor could I remember being so heartbroken. Never would I have expected Harry to do this to me. I'd dragged him through hell and dashed his hopes and probably broken his heart once or twice in the process, but I hadn't ever thought that he was capable of betraying me in such a way.
Even though things were stilted and uncertain between us, I'd thought we meant more to each other than this.
Evidently baffled by all of this information, the only thing Zayn could say when Harry was finished was, "So... it wasn't real?"
"I know it sounds mental," Harry was quick to explain, "but she was too afraid to tell you. All this time she's been waiting for you to make the first move."
"Why?"
Harry paused, and I knew he was reluctant to get into it. Still, he probably felt he owed it to Zayn after what he'd just told him. "She's good at playing confident, I guess. But when it comes to things she really wants... confidence is a bit of a defense mechanism. Works against her."
I shut my eyes, wanting nothing more than to go home. Not here, not this flat, but back to Derbyshire with my family. My mum and dad and Lola the Yorkie, where I could lie in my bed and Mum could bring me tea and I never had to go outside and face the world again.
"I didn't know," Zayn said, his tone gentle. "She's sort of hard to read."
Yeah," Harry muttered. "Well, that gets easier when you get to know her."
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Harry laughed humourlessly. "I'd be gunned down in my sleep, that's why. Wasn't my place. Not my business." In a quieter tone, he added, "Besides, I wouldn't do that to her. She'd never forgive me, even if I had good intentions."
Zayn needed a moment to think this over. "Then why tell me now?"
"Got nothing much else to lose at this point," Harry conceded, a breath of sadness in his words. "Look, I know you like her and you're only holding out because of me. It shouldn't be that way. I'm taking myself out of the equation."
"So... you weren't even with her? For real?"
"Nnnn... no."
Unconvinced, Zayn pressed on, "Never?"
Harry paused. I shut my eyes tighter, and even though I was numb on the outside, I could still feel Harry's lips ghosting over my skin.
"No," he finally said, and it couldn't have been more of a lie. "The rain stopped."
It was a poor transition into a new subject, but it worked on Zayn. "Yeah. Shit. I better get back."
I shut my door quietly as they moved to the entrance, hoping beyond all hope that this was just a dream.
"Thanks again for the course book. You're saving my sorry arse."
"It's nothing," Harry answered. "And, um... I'm sorry. About all this. You should've known forever ago."
"Yeah, well." It wasn't much of a reply, but Zayn was probably still in shock. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah."
"You're my mate. You know there're lines we don't cross. If I'd ever... if I'd ever tried anything with June, you seriously would have been all right with that?"
The silence between them lasted so long that I almost screamed to break it.
Harry heaved a deep sigh. "Just know that she really likes you, all right? So if you go for it... you'd better really like her back."
Whatever happened after that, it was too quiet for me to hear. I tuned in again when the door shut and Zayn was gone.
Just me and Harry.
Except this time the prospect of being alone with Harry wasn't exciting or comforting or anything besides infuriating. If I was given time to cool off about it, I might have decided it was better to simply hide in my room until he left for another class and then proceeded to ignore him until we both moved out after graduation. He was already ignoring me, anyway.
As it was, I was too furious for that. And I wouldn't let him get away with this without knowing that he'd completely and forever decimated whatever remained of our friendship, and there was no going back.
So I picked up my school bag and threw open my door, stalking from the hall to the kitchen. My face was masked in disbelief and horror. Looking up in surprise from his position hunched over the counter on a stool, Harry swore under his breath before rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand.
"You're here," he breathed.
"Sorry to inconvenience you," I said in a clipped tone, folding my arms across my chest as I halted in front of him.
Taking a breath, Harry shut his eyes to compose himself. He made no excuses for what he'd just done, very simply asking, "Don't you think it's time we stop playing games?"
"We have stopped playing games," I snapped, "and that seemed to me to be a serious, gross amount of betrayal."
Harry kept his cool, turning his focus back to the countertop. "It's better that it's out. You can't see it now, but it is."
"I don't believe you." In a rage, I grabbed his shoulder and ripped it back, practically forcing him to look me in the eye. "What was the point of everything if it was all going to come to this? Are you that petty, Harry?"
"Look!" he cried, shrugging my hand from his shoulder. "I didn't do it to be petty, all right?"
"Then why? You're so upset with me for not giving up on Zayn and riding off into the sunset with you that you're getting back at me by sabotaging everything!"
It was a cheap dig, but that was how furious I was. With his nostrils flaring, I could tell I'd riled Harry, too, but still he kept his seat at the counter. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped.
"No, actually," he said, struggling to keep his voice even, "but believe what you want."
"Oh, I will. But humour me anyway. Convince me."
Fuming, I dropped my bag on the floor and leaned across the counter on the opposite side, making it impossible for him to avert his eyes as they were before.
"Fine. You want to know? The night of Niall's kegger, Zayn came up to me when I arrived. He asked if we were broken up for real, and I said yes. He said he was into you, but he wouldn't go for it because you were my ex."
I scoffed. Harry was toying with me.
"Don't lie to me," I said with a shake of my head, venom in every word.
"I wish I was lying!" he exclaimed.
My first instinct was to argue, but then I remembered that night. Sitting next to Zayn on the tree stump after he'd filled our cups from the keg, having one of those 'say anything' conversations followed by an intense and longing stare. He'd wanted to kiss me that night – probably, for the first time, just as badly as I'd wanted him to. I knew it then and I remembered it vividly now.
So if he'd gone to Harry beforehand to ask permission...
Straightening my back, my voice was calmer as I asked, "You told him it was fine, right?"
Harry could only hold my gaze for a second before his eyes tracked down to the counter again.
Awkward beat.
Louder, I repeated, "You told him it was fine, right?"
His movements were so subtle, but I knew that Harry was lightly shaking his head.
My blood was boiling, and I was at such a loss for words that I raised my arms in the air and threw my head back.
"Dammit, Harry!" I shouted, smacking my hand on the table and walking around to the other side to meet him, as if I'd seem more threatening that way.
Before I could cause him physical harm, Harry raised his arm to shield whatever blows I may have delivered.
"How could I without giving everything away?! We had apparently just split up, how could I say I was fine with it?"
"Oh my God!" I cried. "So I'm perpetually Harry Styles' ex-girlfriend? That's all he'll ever see me as, and you didn't bother to correct him?"
"I corrected it just now!"
"No!" I nearly screamed. "You ruined this for me! You held it in your hands and you crushed it!"
Pushed to his breaking point, it was all Harry could do to retort, "I'm sorry, all right?"
"No! It's not all right." With that, I picked up my bag from the floor, giving him one last glare. "Damn you," I whispered.
I was going back to campus. I'd go to class and then I'd ask Macy if I could spend the night at her place. Wherever Harry was, I couldn't be.
I heard the stool being knocked to the ground, but I didn't look back until his fingers locked my wrist in a death grip and he spun me around.
"Wait," he said, his voice commanding and low.
"I have class." I tried to shirk out of his grasp, but he held my wrist too tightly.
"I don't care." Funny how it flipped – suddenly, I was the one avoiding him when his eyes bore unflinchingly into me. "You should know that I didn't intend for you to hear any of that."
"So I gathered."
"And it's not what you think."
No longer caring if my arm dislocated in the process, I tugged so hard on my wrist that Harry finally let me go. Then, taking a step back and shaking myself off, I exclaimed in a rage, "God! You know, Harry, I would never intentionally hurt you. I know I did without meaning to, and it kills me. Every day I hate myself for what I did to you. How far I let this go. If I could take back just one—"
I stopped myself, my words spewing from my lips so fast that they got tangled and choked in my throat. Or maybe that was just emotion. I swallowed it all away, inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm myself while Harry waited patiently.
"I just never thought you'd hate me so much as to ruin every chance I had with him," I finished dully.
"I don't," Harry insisted, his green eyes softening. "And I didn't. Fitz, listen: I went along with this whole thing to humour you. Because you were doing the same for me with my dad. I could have told you from the beginning – and I should have, I know – that all you had to do was just tell him how you felt. That was the one scheme you never tried, and it's the one that would've worked."
"Well, I guess we'll never know now that he hates me."
"No." Harry shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if in pain. "He doesn't. You'll see." Letting his hands fall limply to his sides, he offered gently, "Watch what happens when all you are is honesty."
It was in me to turn on my heels and leave him standing there, but something about his pose, so defeated, made me stay.
"Why would you do that for me?" I asked softly.
Harry paused, licking his lips. He sighed. "It'd be a shame, after everything, if neither of us got what we wanted."
I felt like I needed to sit down, but I knew that if I did, I might never get up again. So, hiking up my bag on my shoulder and folding my arms across my chest, I gulped as I looked him in the eyes.
"You lied to him," I said quietly. "You said we'd never been together."
Harry studied me for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was just as soft as mine was. "Did you want me to tell him
"Why didn't you?"
With a slight shake of his head, he told me with his eyes that all had been lost.
"If it meant something, I would have. But it didn't... did it?"
The question was rhetorical, but still I felt that I should respond and set him straight. After all, it had obviously meant something to him. And if I was being honest with myself, of course it had meaning to me, too. My heart wouldn't hurt so much if it hadn't.
But I'd spare him the heartache of knowing.
He added gently, "You were always thinking of him."
A dead silence fell over us like a veil as we let that sink in. All the awkward beats in the world couldn't fashion a melody this time around, and that hurt my heart more than I could have known.
Later, as I walked to class avoiding puddles in the rain, I marveled at how Harry could wear his heart on his sleeve when, time and time again, he was rejected – and how I, who hid under the pretense of confidence, had never possessed the courage to do the same.