HARRY STYLES
-March 2022-
Vulnerability is a word that is often misused. We never take the time to reflect on its true meaning. We never take the time to unravel its definition, to truly know what it feels like to be vulnerable. To truly know what it implies. Usually, we use it to diminish someone, to make them appear inferior. We often use it to describe something that is frail, fragile. We use the word 'vulnerable' to describe a prey that is about to be hunted down. To describe someone who wears their heart out on their sleeves. To describe someone who shows the wounds, the scars that life left on their body and mind. To describe someone who isn't trying to prove their strength, to put on a facade.
We label someone as vulnerable when they decide to be open and share their thoughts, their emotions with other people. We label someone as vulnerable when they seem to be unable to build walls around their secrets, not hiding them away like everyone else. We label someone as vulnerable when they decide to put themselves in an uncertain situation, in a situation where they no longer control.
But we don't see that vulnerability isn't just about being weak. It is the greatest dilemma of all, the greatest paradox. It can be qualified as a weakness or a strength, depending on the situation. While we tend to think of vulnerability as something that needs to be hidden away, that needs to be kept in the dark, it can also be a proof a strength. After all, by being vulnerable, you put your faith into someone else's hands. You agree to show them the ugliest parts of you, never knowing how they will react. You agree to let them see into the depths of your soul, past all of the futile pretending, past the masks you put on in society. You agree to give them the power to crush you or to stitch you back together. You agree to trust them, to show them your wounds, never knowing if they will decide to tear them open again. Vulnerability opens your heart and can make you start caring for others. You start to realize that not everyone is as strong as they appear to be and that, in the end, we all need to pour our hearts out, to say what's on our mind.
Personally, I've always hated vulnerability. It brings back old memories, hurtful feelings that I don't want to remember. It digs up things that I had buried deep in my mind. It makes me feel emotionally naked and absolutely defenseless. Also, there is no place for such thing in the world that I live in. I can't be anything other than cold. I can't be seen as anything other than heartless. I can't show them my vulnerable side, otherwise I'll loose everything. Everyone is this world is a raptor, waiting to snatch the opportunity out of my hands. They're all greedy and cruel, not giving a single shit about your past and your emotions. That's why I hate vulnerability: hating it makes it easier to push it down.
Like everything in my life, Daisy was the exception. She was the one that made me admire vulnerability, that made me see it under a different angle.
"Come on, let's get you out of here." I whispered in her ear, forcing her to fight the desire to fall asleep on me.
I could sense her exhaustion: I had noticed the way her breathing had slowed down, resembling the slow rhythm I've heard many times as I slept next to her. I had noticed the way her body slumped forward, using my own as a pillar, as a support. I had noticed the way her eyelids fluttered shut before opening back again, her bloodshot eyes disappearing behind them for a few seconds. I had noticed the way her red lips had parted, welcoming more air into her lungs. I had noticed the way her tears had stopped, nothing left but faint traces on her swollen and reddened skin. I had noticed the way the crease between her brows had disappeared, skin softening and smoothing out. I had noticed the way her grip on my hand was become less and less tight as she drifted off somewhere no one could hurt her anymore.
Where I wouldn't be able to hurt her.
She was snapped out of her daze at my words, slowly lifting her head from my shoulder and nodding as she rubbed her eyes. I was slowly dragging her back to reality, making her realize we were still in her bathroom, cuddling in her freezing bathtub.
She let me step out of the bath first, scurrying around the room to find two towels. Once I finally located them, I wrapped one around my waist, then stepped back up next to the bath. I extended the other towel and held it up for her, ready to greet her with the warm and dry material as soon as she would stand up.
As soon as her body left the water, I wrapped it around her, careful to not let my eyes linger on her body. Soon, it was hidden away from me, covered by the white towel tucked under her arms.
No matter how beautiful she was, it wasn't the right time and she wasn't in the right state of mind. I would never disrespect her like that, not when she wasn't able to think clearly and to fully be aware of her surroundings. I wanted to focus on her and on what she was going through: I wanted to be there for her and to help her get better. I wanted to help her fix the broken pieces, I wanted her to fill whole again, no longer feeling the void her mother's absence had left behind.
Turning around, I bent down, pulling on the bath plug and making sure that it was being properly drained of water.
Once I was sure everything worked perfectly, I faced her again, analyzing the expression on her face.
That's when I noticed the way her lips trembled, lowering my eyes to see that she was shaking because of the change of temperature.
I'm not going to lie, I was starting to freeze my ass off in this bathtub. I had started to feel the lack of blood in my toes and fingertips, the cold water numbing them and almost cutting off my circulation. I had started to feel my skin grow colder, except for the spot where she was resting her head. I had remained as still as possible, not wanting to startle her, but my muscles were starting to ache. I did my best to not slump on her, so I ended up leaning back until my back hit the bath, pulling her along with me as softly as I could.
But no matter how cold it was, not matter how sore I was, I would have stayed there for as long as she wanted me to stay. I would have stayed there for another day if it was what she needed.
I would have done anything to make her feel comfortable. To make her feel at home.
As I remembered our conversation, I couldn't help but admire every ounce of her vulnerability. She was so open with me, choosing to share her thoughts with me at a time where it would have been so easy to shut me out. She could have easily kept everything to herself, she could have easily decided that she didn't want me to see that broken part of her. That part of her that was still fragile, extremely easy to break, the proof being that a single text was enough to send her spiraling down. That part of her that was still recovering and healing from a deeply-rooted trauma.
Still, she decided to let me in, to let me witness her at her lowest point. She decided that she wanted me to be there for her, that she wanted me to be the one she sought comfort from. She decided to let me see her darkest part, the part that resembled in no way the soft and cheerful girl I have gotten accustomed to. She decided to let me see the source of her deepest sorrow, a source that could never be erased from her mind. She let me see her past, she let me see the thing that had forged her into the woman she is today. She let me see the pages of her story that she had unsuccessfully tried to tear apart, tried to hide away until they faded into nothingness. She let me see the extend of her hurt, the extend of the impact her mother had on her life. She let me see her at her lowest point, at the point where she felt empty and numb.
She was so fucking courageous. She had done something I have been scared of doing for many years, fearing that my deepest secrets would involuntarily slip out of my lips during these moments. Instead of hiding her sadness from me, she reveled in it and accepted it, not hesitating for too long before she hid in my arms. Instead of scolding herself and thinking of herself as weak, she welcomed her vulnerability and shared it with me, showing me it was completely normal to fall down on your knees from time to time. Instead of pushing me away like I would usually do, she surrendered to me and let me guide her through these hard times. Instead of pretending like everything was fine in her life, she acknowledge that sadness and gave herself time to process it. She gave herself time to label her emotions and to feel them. She gave herself time to remember the details of her mother leaving.
Her mother.
My heart broke for Daisy when she started to explain to me her story. My heart broke because I imagined a seven-year-old girl looking out the window, hoping to see her mother's silhouette in the entrance again. I thought about the little girl who had been abandoned, who had been deprived from a motherly love. I knew it must have been extremely hard for her: there was a special bond that tied a mother and a daughter together. It was a strong bond that, once broken, tainted their lives forever. It was a bond that couldn't be found anywhere else, that couldn't be understood by anyone else.
My heart broke, but I also felt rage surface in my mind. I couldn't believe that someone would voluntarily abandon her. That someone would abandon the delicate and kind girl that she is. I couldn't believe that someone would purposely flip her world upside down, making her loose all her bearings. I couldn't believe that someone would leave knowing they were going to make her feel worthless. Knowing they would fuck up her self-esteem and make her doubt herself for the rest of her life, depriving her from her mother's validation and acceptance.
My blood boiled at the thought of someone so cruel, so unforgiving and selfish.
But, instead of focusing on my anger, I focused on what Daisy's gesture meant. By breaking down in front of me, she was also letting me know that she was trusting me enough to completely put down her walls. She let me know that she wanted me to reassure her, to help her get rid of the pain. She let me know that she was trusting me to reassure her, that she was trusting me to take care of her in a time where she wasn't able to take care of herself.
She let me know that she wanted me to be there for her during these hard times.
"You're freezing baby." I sighed, closing the space between us as I rested my hands on her arms, rubbing them up and down in hope that the friction would provide some heat. "You need to put on some warm clothes, then you can take a nap. Sounds good?" I encouraged her, using the softest voice I have ever used in my twenty-five years of existence on this earth.
"Okay." Her voice was weak, shaky and strained from the draining experience she had just went through.
Carefully, I led her out of the bathroom, my hand resting on her lower back as she stayed pressed against me, trying to warm her body as much as possible. Our clothes still littered the floor, but I didn't bother picking them up as we stepped around them.
Right now, my only worry, my only focus was her.
Once we stepped back in her bedroom, I left her side, walking up to her closet and dresser to take out the most comfortable clothes she had. I contemplated on snatching one of my hoodies from my room, but I decided against it.
She needed to get some rest as soon as possible.
I took out a pair of grey joggers, then opened another drawer to find a proper shirt. My heart fluttered when I noticed that one of the shirts I had let her borrow multiple times was on top of the pile, wrinkled as if she had just worn it the night before. I held it up and put it on my arm, next to the joggers, hoping that she would find comfort in having a small part of me with her. For some reason, it comforted me to know that she would be resting wrapped up in my cologne, in my scent.
To know that I would be the only one helping her fall asleep.
Finally, I opened her underwear drawer, snatching the first pair that looked comfortable in my hand before closing it. I held back every teasing comment about her lingerie sets or about the older pairs that were pushed to the back of the space.
With the clothes in my hands, I finally turned around, walking back to her.
I noticed she still haven't moved from the spot where I had left her: as I picked her clothes, she stayed still, watching me move around as her hands gripped the towel to secure its place. Her body was trembling because of the cold air hitting her damp skin, but she didn't seem to realize it, the reaction being an unconscious one.
When I focused my gaze on her face, I tried to read the expression resting on it.
She didn't look as sad and devastated as when we first arrived home, but her eyes still felt empty to me.
They still weren't holding that usual playful glint she had when she was with me. They still weren't as bright and luminous as they normally were. They still weren't filled with compassion when she looked at the world around her. They still weren't shining like they usually do, sparkling and hypnotizing everyone who dared to meet her gaze. They still weren't filled with hope and joy, only picturing the things she saw as beautiful. They still weren't holding that dreamy expression, the one that made you want to be better for the sake of her dreams coming true.
They still weren't her eyes.
"There you go." I spoke up, handing her the clothes, watching her arm extend and her delicate hand take them away from me.
Without waiting for her to ask me, I turned around to look at the wall, giving her some privacy and space to get dressed.
I didn't want to leave her side, but I'm sure she wouldn't want me looking at her when she was in that state of mind.
Now was different that a few hours ago: she wanted me to comfort her when she asked me to join her in the bathtub. She was overwhelmed by her emotions and she trusted me enough to take care of her. She trusted me to only do what she wanted me to do, to only say what she needed to hear. She was fragile, so she had asked me to fix her.
To put her pieces back together.
Even though she was extremely sad and affected, I don't think she had fully realized the extent of her confession. I don't think she had fully realized just how much she had shown me. I don't think she had fully realized just how vulnerable she had allowed herself to be in front of me. Her mind was in a dazed state, mostly focusing on getting the weight off her chest.
But, right now, I'm sure that reality was crashing down on her. I think she was starting to regain her full consciousness, starting to remember just how much detail she had given away.
Maybe she was glad she had confided in me. Maybe she was happy that she had finally shared the darkest part of her story with someone. Maybe she felt lighter knowing that someone could understand what she was going through.
Or maybe she was afraid. Maybe she was scared that I would hold it against her. Maybe she was regretting it, already making up the worst scenarios in her head. Maybe she was scolding and cursing herself for being weak, for caving in. Maybe she was realizing that I was the last person she wanted to talk to.
Whatever conclusion she came to, I didn't want to take advantage of her during one of her most uncertain, vulnerable time. I didn't want to think that I was exploiting her in any way, whether it was physically or mentally. I didn't want her to think that I was using her state to pry something out of her.
After what we just went through, I wanted her to still be able to trust me.
So, standing with only a towel wrapped around my waist, I stayed there, focusing my gaze on the ground and fidgeting with my hands as I heard her shuffling around, probably slipping the clothing on.
"You can turn around, I'm done." She broke the silence with her soft voice, making me spin around to face her again.
I looked at her for a few seconds, taking in the way she seemed to float in the oversized clothing, before following her to her bed.
I lifted the comforter and sheets for her, waiting for her body to slip under them before lowering them back, shielding her from the cold. I lifted my hands up in her hair, untying the bun I had lazily made before she stepped into the bath. Her blond hair fell on the pillowcase, sprawling on the soft material and framing her beautiful features. I ran my fingers through her hair, taming her beautiful locks so it wouldn't bother her. She sighed as I rubbed her scalp soothingly, her eyelids slowly getting heavier with each affectionate action.
"Please forgive my outfit, I'm aware I didn't get the memo about how we should dress." I teased, hoping my cheesy comment would be enough to lighten the mood. Hoping it would be enough to see the corner of her beautiful lips turn up. Hoping it would be enough to light up her face, even if it was for a few seconds.
She scanned my body with her eyes, a lazy and tired smile forming as she let out a low chuckle.
"I like it." She replied, nuzzling into the bed and finally closing her eyes, not bothering to open them back up. "Thank you Harry. Thank you so much." She muttered, her features softening and morphing into a disturbingly sincere expression.
I didn't bother to reply: I knew she would fall asleep in a matter of seconds. And I knew I wasn't worthy of her gratitude. I was merely repaying her for all of the times she put up with my bullshit. For all of the times she was the one comforting me. For all the times she was the one listening to me. For all the times she had to be patient with me. For all the times she let me follow my own rhythm.
For all the times she let me be me.
We stayed silent as I watched her drift away, any trace of worry and hurt slowly fading from her delicate face. I stroked her hair carefully, helping her relax and truly let go of the stress that had been holding her body hostage. I watched her melt into the mattress, her body surrendering and her limbs becoming limp, finally tired of carrying the weight of her sadness.
Once I was sure she was sound asleep, her breathing slowing down and deepening, I bent down and placed a kiss on her temple, light enough to make sure I hadn't disturbed her sleep.
But, as I took a step back, watching her small and frail body move under the covers, it hit me.
It hit me like a fucking ton of bricks. It hit me like a bullet piercing through skin. It hit me like a wave crashing on the shore. It hit me like a struck of lightning. It hit me like all of the weight of the world had suddenly been placed on my shoulders.
It hit me hard. So hard that I couldn't ignore it anymore.
I felt it in every part of my body. In every crevice as it came out of its hiding. In every fold that shielded it away from the sun. In every bone that vibrated as the sound of it echoed in my body. In every vein as it coursed through them, spreading like a disease and poisoning my blood. In every limb as it made them tingle in a way I had never felt before. In every heartbeat as it sung a melody I had tried to ignore for the longest time.
The more I let it take control of me, the harder it crushed me. The more I acknowledged it, the more it tore my walls apart. The more I let it fill my mind, the more it made me question everything I have believed in, every promise I've been standing by my whole life.
What I was feeling was constricting my chest until it felt like a prison. Tightening my throat until it felt like it was closing in on me, stealing my voice away. Clenching my jaw until it felt like I would break my teeth. Making my palms clammy until the need to wipe them on my shirt was irresistible. Turning my hands into fists until I felt the nails dig into the skin. Filling every inch of my body until there was no place for anything else.
At the same time, it made me feel so fucking warm and fuzzy. It made me feel like I was floating, too high to even think about coming down. It made me feel like my blood was boiling inside my veins. It made me feel like a hundred fucking butterflies had taken flight in my stomach. It made feel like my heart was about to beat out of my chest, shattering through my rib cage and bursting out in the open. It made me feel like I was a new person. It made me feel hope, something I had never felt before. It made me feel like I wanted to be a better person.
Standing there, next to her, a towel wrapped around my body, I realized I was in love with her.
I was completely and utterly in love with Daisy. I felt the love in every fiber of my bone, beating loudly and creating a void that only she could fill. I felt the love in every step I took, steps that always ended up leading me back to her. I felt the love in every thought that filled my mind, corrupting it with images of her. I felt the love every time I breathed, hell every time I blinked.
No matter how hard I tried to push it down, it was no use. My feelings kept running back to her.
As I finally admitted the extent of my feelings to myself, I started to suffocate. It felt like the room was progressively getting smaller, trapping me in. I was frozen in place, my feet practically unable to move as she drew me in like a magnet.
I needed to leave. I needed to let it all out or I would implode. Or I would be destroyed by my own feelings.
As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted to talk to Max. I wanted his advice, I wanted his input on the situation. I wanted him to help me navigate something that was completely foreign to me.
Carefully, I retreated into the bathroom, glancing at her to make sure that my movements didn't disturb her. I grabbed my pants, digging my hands into the pockets and retrieving my phone.
Once it was clutch tightly in my hand, I slowly stepped out of her room, closing the door behind me and finally allowing myself to breathe properly. I took in a deep inhale, gathering my thoughts and giving me time to process everything.
I walked back to my room, finally putting some clothes on before I dialed the familiar number, not even thinking twice before I put it to my ear, waiting for my best friend to pick up.
A few rings echoed on the line before I heard his cheerful voice on the other end.
"Curly!" Max greeted me, the loud background noise letting me know he was in a public space.
"I need to talk to you." I said, not beating around the bush as my voice remained serious.
"Is everything alright?" His tone matched mine, dropping any hint of playfulness that had been present a few seconds ago. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't comment on the use of the nickname or the way I kept a neutral tone, but he knew something was wrong with me.
"I want to talk to you. I just figured a lot of shit and I have to talk to you or I'm going to lose my mind." I briefly explained, waiting to be in front of him to tell him exactly what I figured out.
"I'm at a pub right now, I was just stopping to have a drink. Long day at the office. Do you mind meeting me there?" He asked, giving me the explanation as to why I heard loud chatter in the background.
"I don't mind. I'll meet you there." I replied, not waiting for his reply before hanging up the phone.
I waited impatiently for his text, leg bouncing up and down as I sat at the edge of my bed. For once, I was eager to talk to someone else, to share what was on my mind. It was unbearable: I wasn't great with emotion. Even less with the most intense emotion of all. With the emotion that opened up a world of possibilities. With the emotion that was the main source of inspiration for every artist. With the emotion that was the biggest mystery to humanity, a mystery everyone desperately wanted to crack and unravel.
Once I saw the notification light up my screen, I jumped to my feet, not wasting a single second before grabbing my coat making my way outside into the garage.
I made sure I had my wallet and phone with me, then grabbed the door remote and the first set of keys I laid my eyes on.
I climbed in the car, starting the engine and entering the address into the navigation system. My fingers drummed against the wheel as I waited for the itinerary to load, driving out once it did so, not even waiting for the garage door to be fully opened.
I barely even registered pressing the button that shut it, already halfway out of the driveway.
I pulled onto the road, aware of the fact that I was surely going well over the speed limit, but not giving a single fuck.
As I followed the voice guiding me, I let my mind drift off to what I had just experienced.
It just made me realize that I have never been in love before. Because what I have felt before didn't compare to what I was feeling now. It didn't compare to that soul-crushing feeling that filled me every time I thought about her. It didn't compare to the attraction I felt, her mere presence being a magnet that drew me in every single time. It didn't compare to the pure and holy feeling that submerged me when she graced me with her smile or her laugh. It didn't compare to the infatuation that overpowered everything else when I dared to lay my eyes on her. It didn't compare to the way my fingers felt charged with electricity every time she allowed them to brush against her skin. It didn't compare to the fire she lit up in me simply by being there, by standing next to me. It didn't compare to the way my body and mind were constantly longing for her, constantly looking for her in a crowd to make sure she was protected.
None of it compared to what Daisy made me feel. It just confirmed to me that what I felt before was affection: I cared about my previous partners. I felt great with them, I felt comfortable. I wanted them to feel protected as well and to feel like I was providing them a safe space. I liked spending time with them, I liked spoiling them. I liked kissing them and fucking them just as much as I liked cuddling with them. But I didn't love them.
And I was starting to realize that I would probably never be able to love someone like this again. Daisy had managed to ruin my perception of love by making it one of the greatest things that ever happened to me. She had set the bar so high that there was no way I could ever think about lowering my standards if something made her leave me.
So, I was already preparing myself for a lifetime of loneliness and longing. Because I was going to make her leave. Eventually. It was bound to happen.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I pulled up in the parking lot, turning off the engine and stepping out of the car eagerly. I locked the doors behind me and made my way into the small pub, looking around and quickly finding Max sitting alone on a barstool.
I walked over to him, watching his gaze snap up to me as he noticed my presence.
"Hey." I greeted him, taking a seat on the empty stool next to him.
A waiter came by and I ordered a beer, wanting some liquid courage, but not wanting to get drunk off my ass since I was driving myself home.
"Considering you never call me to just talk, I'd say that I'm pretty scared. That means something bad has happened." Max said warily, downing the remaining of his beer and ordering a new one at the same time as me.
I stayed silent, waiting for the waiter to come back with my beer before chugging the half of it. I was preparing myself for his reaction, but I was also preparing myself to hear the words come out of my mouth.
Once they would slip past my lips, there was no going back.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, finally feeling ready to confess to Max.
"I think I'm in love with her." I finally whispered, keeping my gaze on my glass to avoid witnessing his reaction.
"Hold the fuck up." He said in disbelief, almost not believing the words I had spoken. "What did you just say?" His tone was louder, making me shush him and sending him a deadly look before I went back to observing the bar counter.
"I said that I'm in love with her. I'm in love with Daisy." I repeated, her name rolling so effortlessly off my tongue, almost like it had always been meant to be said by me. Like there was a coat of honey surrounding it, making it sweet and delectable, the most addicting drug of all.
"I..." Max trailed off, the words getting stuck in his throat, making me finally land my eyes on him at his prolonged silence. "I don't even know what to say. It feels like I have been slapped in the face."
"That's not what I had hoped to hear." I mumbled, frowning when I realized that it might be harder for him to help me that I thought.
"Are you sure you're not joking?" He asked suspiciously, making me shake my head at his words. "Wow I- I never would have thought I would hear these words coming from your mouth. I almost fell on my ass." He chuckled in disbelief, attempting to lighten the mood.
"I didn't really expect it either. It kind of just snuck up on me, hitting me like a fucking truck. I called you as soon as I realized that what I was feeling was love." I explained, playing with the rings on my fingers to distract my mind.
"What made you realize it?" Max asked, hoping to get some detail on my big revelation.
"She opened up to me a lot more today. She has always been open, but she shared something very personal with me. Something that I would have probably kept hidden if it had happened to me. She couldn't stop crying, so I comforted her. I prepared a bath for her and stayed with her for a while. A few hours I think. Right before I called you, I was helping her settle in her bed so she could get some rest. Once she fell asleep, I leaned down and kissed her head. And, out of nowhere, all the things I felt just came crashing down on me. It made everything so fucking obvious that I couldn't play pretend and act like I didn't see them." I described what I had just went through, leaving out the details regarding her personal life.
She was trusting me, so I wouldn't betray that trust. It wasn't my business: she was the one who would get to decide who knew about her troubled childhood.
"Holy shit bro, that's amazing, you really deserve it. It's about time you found love, I was starting to lose hope." Max nudged my shoulders, but quickly noticed my lack of enthusiasm. "But judging by your expression, I'm guessing it's not a good thing?" He questioned, arching his brows as he tried to decipher the emotion in my eyes.
"It's not that..." I sighed, trying to find the right words to explain what I felt. "It just goes against everything I believe in."
"What do you mean?" He pushed me for a deeper explanation, wanting to fully understand what was on my mind.
"When my mom died, it changed everything for me. Including my vision of love. I don't know why, but I didn't believe in love anymore. I found it futile, hopeless: I felt like I would just be signing up to get hurt in the end. To get my heart broken. I was only committing in something to be hurt in the end. And, when we started our business, all hopes of love were lost. With my lifestyle, with our lifestyle, here was no way I could find someone. And I didn't want to find anyone. I didn't want to drag someone in our world, to put them in danger.By then, it was too late. I had grown too cold, too protective of my little bubbles. I had built my walls to high to let someone tear them down. I was fine with staying distant, with protecting my feelings and secrets. I was fine with never getting close enough to someone to spill them out. I was fine with being alone, fucking meaningless people from time to time. For the last nine years, I've been telling myself that I didn't want love. That I didn't need it. That it would bring me nothing but sorrow and deception. But she fucked up every plan by walking into my life. And I told myself I would be careful, especially knowing the fact that she..." I trailed off, watching Max nod as he understood what I was implying. "But she still managed to turn the impossible into something possible. She managed to become so important that, now, everything reminds me of her. Everywhere I look, I see a glimpse of her. Every memory I've been making for the last few months is undeniably tied to her. And it makes me mad at myself because loving her means going against everything I believe in. It means that I lose my bearings, that I have to rethink my future by including her in it. It means that I broke the oath I made to myself, the oath to not let someone get too close. But now, here I am, a part of my heart residing in her hands, at her complete mercy." I huffed, finally pouring out my thoughts and feeling, finally voicing them and acknowledging them.
I didn't hold back: I wanted Max to know everything in order to help me make the best choice possible. I wanted him to understand the internal battle inside me, the internal conflict that i couldn't solve.
"I don't think you should see it like that. First of all, your little oath was absolutely shitty. You couldn't have expected to never catch feelings for someone. And, as much as you wanted to avoid it, it was bound to happen. You were drawn to her from the beginning. You can't deny that she makes you happier: I see it in your behavior every time she's around. You smile more, you laugh more, you joke more, you're less tense. Just her presence is enough to change you, to put the emphasis on the best parts of your personality. I also noticed the way your body is always looking for her, even if you don't realize it. You always want to touch her, to pull her closer to you, as if you wanted to make sure she's real. Even if you didn't want to believe it, your body's been betraying you since the beginning, mate." Max admitted, showing me that, if you took the time to look into it, it was obvious to see the extent of my feelings for her.
"You know, Alan said she was making me weak." I added, wanting to get that thought off my conscience. I wanted someone else to know so they could reassure me, so they could tell me that Alan had lied.
Even if they didn't mean it, I didn't want to believe that the girl I loved was my weakness.
"I don't think so." Max shook his head, his eyes full of honesty as he looked at me. "She makes you a better man. I know you said that having nothing to loose makes someone dangerous, but I don't agree. I think that having something to loose is more significant. It makes you want to be better. It makes you want to work harder. By having something, you have something to fight for, a cause to defend. You start to weight the consequences more carefully, knowing there is someone at home waiting for you. You're not as reckless, not even caring if you get injured during a deal or if a fight goes bad. You start to see that there are more important things than power and money. By having Daisy, it makes you realize that you also deserve happiness, Harry. It makes you realize that you're worthy of it and that you can accept it for once instead of pushing it away. You can allow yourself to feel good, to feel complete." Max expressed his point of view, making me realize that he was right.
She was making me a better person, leaving her kind imprint on my mind. Simply by being in it, she made me see the world differently. I still wasn't completely changed, but she opened up my eyes and made me realize that I could have a real shot at happiness and that I deserved it. That I was still somewhat of a good person.
"You should tell her." Max snapped me out of my thoughts, bringing my focus back to him.
I contemplated his words, not quite certain that this was the best way to overcome this situation.
I don't think I was ready to tell her just yet. Of course, I was scared she wouldn't reciprocate, but it went deeper than that.
I was still scared I would corrupt her. I was still unsure that I was a good influence for her: I had only brought her trouble ever since she stepped foot in my house. Even if I had redeemed myself, I had still managed to make her feel miserable at times. I had managed to taint her soul, to bruise it simply by laying my hands on it.
Daisy was a precious jewel, a diamond that needed to be protected. And, in my hands, I was scared that it would fall to the ground and shatter in a thousand pieces. I was scared that I would break it beyond repair, left with the remaining of the girl I used to know.
She was a delicate and delicate flower that was still blooming. And, under my care, I was scared that I would hide it away, not treating her properly. I was scared that I would shield her away from the light, its absence making it impossible for her to grow. I was scared that I was only holding her back.
She was the sun, the bright and luminous sun hung up in the sky. And, with me around her, I was scared that I would turn into clouds. I was scared that I would end up covering it, wasting away her light until there was none left anymore.
Until she lost her ability to shine.
**************
It was dark when I came back home, the moon replacing the sun and the few lonely stars shining over the city.
Max had dropped the subject shortly after he saw my reluctance to confess my love to Daisy. He must have sensed my discomfort, he must have sensed that I wasn't ready to take that step.
But he still had managed to make me feel better. I didn't feel as conflicted about my feelings anymore and I was now certain that she wasn't making me weak. She had a hold on me, but it didn't affect my business or any other aspect of my life. At least, not to the point where it made me weaker than usual. Like Max had said, I now had something to defend, something to protect. Which only made me more eager to end Alan.
Speaking of him, we talked about his situation: Max told me that he had fucked up another deal. It only made me more infuriated, especially since I couldn't completely cut ties with him. I still had a deal with him, the deal we made the night of the gala. And, unlike him, I wasn't a coward and I stood by my words. I would see this through and wouldn't pull out of the deal until it was done.
Both for my sake and for Daisy's.
I just wished Keith would hurry up. I knew he had a difficult task and that the compromising information was well-hidden, but I couldn't fucking wait to be over this shit.
When I walked into the house, I noticed that everything was in the same state I had left it in. No lights had been turned on, no trace of footsteps were visible on the carpets, no scent of perfume lingered in the air. My observations led me to believe that she hadn't moved from her room.
I was proven right when I walked upstairs, opening her door to see that she was sound asleep. She had shuffled around in her sleep, but she was still comfortably tucked under the covers.
I couldn't fight the urge, the string that was pulling me closer to her as I slowly stepped in.
I just needed to make sure she was still comfortable and that nothing was bothering her, even if it was in her sleep.
I reached the side of the bed, crouching down until our heads were almost at the same level. One of my hands instinctively started stroking her hair, watching her nuzzle into my hand at the feeling, my touch still affecting her in a sleepy state.
And, right there, I opened my mouth, whispering words I hoped she wouldn't remember hearing.
"You weren't supposed to become so important. My sweet little flower." I dared to say, surrendering to her, finally admitting that she had been haunting my every thought. Finally admitting that she had dug a place into my heart, a place that now belonged to her and only her.
I basked in the silence, letting the room swallow my words, letting the walls absorb them, finally finding some peace in all of this.