Your apartment felt cold upon your arrival. Empty. As If mirroring the hollow shell of your heart. You felt destroyed and lost since leaving Harry in Greece. But you knew no matter how hard it was, space would be good for you both.
He needed to look after himself before you could move forward with him.
It felt like you were yelling into the wind. An inked, emerald green wind with loving potential but distorted thoughts. You wanted to help him but it wasn't your job. At the end of the day, you had to put yourself first. You loved him so much that it hurt but he was constantly placing you in this situation. It was eating you alive.
You couldn't even be bothered unpacking your bag. You glared at it for a time before stripping off your clothes and sitting under the hot spray of your shower. Your tears melted down the drain and you wished the pain in your heart would, too.
It was almost unbearable. Being without him. Knowing he was hurting but you couldn't do anything. It wasn't healthy that his anxieties had slowly started to become your own.
You finally mustered up the courage to leave the relaxing fall of the shower, wrapping yourself in a large fluffy towel and avoiding your reflection in the mirror. Your phone buzzed where it sat on the bathroom counter and you reached for it.
Hi... You don't have to talk to me I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.
He knew what you needed. He didn't blame you for leaving. He'd let you do so even though it was the most excruciating thing he'd ever done. He was willing to give you space. But first, he needed to make sure you were home and safe.
You mulled over how to reply. Of course, you wanted to tell him you were safe. You also wanted to tell him that you missed him so much that it felt like there was a hole in your chest where he should be.
I'm home, thank you.
Locked away in the room you'd fled from, Harry rubbed his teary eyes and stared at your response. You were safe. Mostly because you were away from him.
I love you.
Still so sure of you. Still loved and cherished you so much.
The three bubbles appeared and then disappeared. He swore at himself, thinking that he'd gone too far. But then the three bubbles popped up before being replaced by a sent text message.
I love you.
Harry felt his heart restart at your reply. A quick flash of sunflower yellow ignited hope he could see even through his teary vision. He wanted to ask when he could see you again, or even talk to you again.
But he knew he had to be selfless this time. You left for a reason. He had to give you time and respect the choice you'd made. It would be beneficial for both of you in the long run. So you sat and wallowed for the rest of the day, attempting to harness the agony and mellow it down but it was fruitless.
You felt like part of you was missing. No, it was worse than that because you knew exactly where that part was. You were just taking some time to live without it. But hopefully not long enough to adapt to it's loss, which made the pain so much worse.
It was a helpless feeling. You'd been forced to take a wobbly step back because you couldn't help him. Not while he held you at arm's length while you clawed at his merciless grip.
On days two, three, and four without Harry, you did what you always did when you were spiraling. You worked. Notorious and cutthroat, throwing yourself neck deep into your schedule. It was a great distraction, given how busy you were with clients you'd met at Max's event. You also caught up with your family, letting them fawn over your success and press you about your love life.
Day five. Day five hit you hard. Post a soft dream in which you were wrapped up in tattooed arms, lips whispering sweet nothings into your ear, you woke to refreshed heartbreak. Waking up to realise he wasn't with you was almost as painful as when you left him.
You trudged through your workday, constantly picking up your phone. Almost caving and calling him. But you knew you couldn't. He never left your mind. Like every brain cell was hard wired to have him start or end every thought you had.
By day six, you were sat in your office with your dream client. An older woman who was an infamous artist and your hero in the industry. The connection between you grew stronger and stronger.
The universe, as if sensing how lost you were, gave you something you'd been working hard towards. Your dream client finally gave you the answer you'd been hoping for. A yes. A heart-warming, career-filling yes. So, naturally, you shared your enthusiasm by showing ideas for her art show and she knew she'd been right to choose you for the job.
You were so excited. Beyond elated. The first person you thought of telling was Harry. Instead, you texted your family and your friends who praised you for your huge victory.
Day seven was a day off for you. Your assistant clearing your schedule was a blessing in disguise. You called your friend, Renee, who you'd not seen in far too long aside from texting every week. But being two busy women deemed it hard to actually see each other. She was over the moon at your news and encouraged you to meet up at a café so you could celebrate.
"I'm so fucking proud of you." She grinned, taking a sip of her ice coffee.
"It was hard getting her to warm up to me but I did it." You scrunched your shoulders up as Renee let out a little squeal and wrapped her arms around you.
"You deserve it. You've worked so hard and you're going to do amazing things with her."
"Thank you so much." You smiled and it was warm but didn't quite reach your eyes.
She caught on. "Now what's happening outside of work, hm? You don't seem like yourself."
She'd always been able to pick up on even a slight change of your mood. She could sense the festering heartache that seemed to radiate from you.
"Oh, it's nothing."
"Nope, not happening. Talk to me."
And maybe that's what you needed. Someone to talk to. Someone on the outside of your relationship who could offer their advice. You trusted her. And you'd been bottling so much up lately and you could feel an onslaught of emotion start to break the walls of your control.
"It's Harry. He's having a hard time juggling everything and it's starting to take a toll on our relationship. He spirals so easy and he closes himself off from me when he does. It's like we make it out alive just for something else to creep into his mind."
"Is this the fan stuff?"
"It's everything. The hate I get, the hate he gets, his album, his management piling work on top of him, the fact that he doesn't have any privacy."
"I feel for him. It seems like one of the loneliest gigs in the world and he's lucky to have you by his side. It sucks that people can't see that. Like, if they love him, surely they'd just want him to be happy? Have they never been lonely before? That shit sucks."
You shook your head. "I don't know, I don't understand it. I've done nothing wrong, I just fell in love with someone I'd like to spend my life with. It's painful that all of this is getting in the way."
"So, where are you guys at?"
"Last week we went to Greece with some of his mates and it was the last straw for me. He said some things that sucked to hear and I decided that we needed to take a break."
"Breaks can be good." Renee offered with a hopeful tone.
"Yeah. I just hope he's taking the time to try and heal as a person. He doesn't deserve to suffer like this. If all I can do to help him is wake him up a little, then so be it."
"That's good. He'll be able to sit back and think about everything. You're enough of an incentive for him to fix this."
That was all you could hope for.
Harry's chuckled as his fingers found the sweet spot behind the cat's ears. The little pet was sprawled across his lap, purring and mewling at the attention.
Anne watched him from the doorway with a smile, but her motherly instinct triggered an immense concern for her son. He'd shown up on her doorstep a few days earlier which delighted her at first. But something was weighing down his mind and he threw himself into her arms with a deep sigh, holding back tears.
He'd been back in L.A for a few days, and once he landed back in London, he felt fucking destroyed.
The adoration and respect Harry had for his mother was unparalleled. He helped her with chores around the house, even with garden work which usually took some convincing. And while she appreciated the company, she knew there was a deeper reason for him being home.
It had rained all week, as surely as his tears fell.
"Sweet H," Her voice soothed him as she sat next to him. "What's going on?"
"I ruin everything." He growled out in frustration.
"Now now." She rolled her eyes at her dramatic son. "Talk to me properly so I can help you."
"I'm just... struggling to protect her."
"From what?"
"Me. The fame side of it. Everything, really."
"You're more than your job, sweetie."
"I know that but it's such a huge part of who I am. It's hard to pretend that it isn't a factor in our relationship when it's constantly there to remind us it exists."
"How does she handle it all?"
Harry looked out the window in deep thought and raised his eyebrows, sighing. "Pretty fucking well, actually."
"Language." Anne scolded.
"Sorry," He sent her a dimpled smile. "She handles it really well, all things considered. She's so understanding and kind and doesn't let that stuff get to her."
"Okay, so what's the problem?"
"Me! I'm the problem!"
"Hardly, H. You want to protect her and that's justified. But if she's handling it well, I think you're getting stuck in your head about everything. You do this a lot and that's because you're such a loving person. You can't help it. But you're also letting your past experiences with this fame stuff dictate how you exist in relationships now."
Anne could sense it even when she went out with him. He was always so on edge and wanting her safety and privacy. In the same breath, he was always approached by people and the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his fans.
"I feel so much pressure from everyone. Like if I step too far left I'll get destroyed for it. I've made mistakes, I know but everything I do is scrutinised under a magnifying glass. All she did was fall in love and she had coffee thrown at her, mum. I have no privacy, I can't even walk down the street without someone taking pictures. How could she want a life with me when I can't guarantee her peace away from all of that?"
"She knew it would be strange when you first started seeing each other. But you've reassured her countless times and looked after-"
"She's usually the one doing the reassuring," Harry admitted quietly. "I think it's different this time around because she feels real. Permeant. Even in the past with people I've loved, I've felt that they were temporary but with her... I see love in a different light."
"Because you're made for each other and she loves being with you. You're so much happier, Harry. I can see it. I know you're overworked but you're lucky to have her to go home to at the end of the day."
"I am so lucky. I just don't know why I can't settle down and appreciate it."
"You're scared. That's normal."
"Is it though? She literally pushed me away because of how I've been acting. She said we needed to go on a break and then left me. And I don't blame her. She doesn't deserve this, she was right to walk out when she did."
"Harry, she just needs time. You do, too. It will be good to have some time apart to heal. Having space in a relationship is normal and healthy."
He was quiet for a time. "I miss her."
"I know you do. But this will be good for you. As a couple and as individuals."
Even though Harry trusted his mother more than anyone else in the world, her words did little to encourage the idea that he was good enough for you.
He sighed, cuddling the cat in his lap close to his chest before it fought to get free. He just wanted his brain to switch off. He wanted to be with you and he wanted the simplicity of that to be enough. But he worried too much and he didn't know how to switch it off.
So he did what he always did when he was spiraling. He wrote. He bled the pain from his veins into words, songs, poems, babbling nothings that would help him understand his complex mind.
His journal found a home on his lap as he sat slouched in the wide windowsill seat upstairs. The patter of the rain on the glass was a calming antipode to his busy thoughts. And he was taken back to rainy days with you.
How the rain falling enticed you into his arms, soft as the clouds. Tea doused with honey as sweet as you. Rounds of scrabble, dressed in your most comfortable clothes while he made up words and tried to convince you they were real.
The sky cried for him. For the loss of you. For the way your tears fell just as heavy when you left him.
He stopped checking his phone. His heart broke more and more every time he saw that there were no missed calls from you, no sweet texts where you told him you loved him and called him handsome or baby.
He would beg for you. He would get on his fucking knees and grovel and cry for your forgiveness. But he'd messed it up too much for that to give him any type of redemption. He had to be patient.
He hoped you were okay. He hoped you weren't drowning in his thoughts like he was.
Later that night, he tossed and turned in his bed. It wasn't unusual. He'd grown accustomed to sleeping with you. Or if he was away, he'd grown accustomed to at least having you with him in his heart. Happily, deeply. But he didn't know where you were.
His phone vibrated on his bedside table, also not unusual. He'd been dodging his entire team since coming to his mum's house for shelter. He'd probably get told off for that but his heart was too broken for him to care.
For whatever reason, he reached up to check who was calling him anyway.
He had to blink a few times at the bright screen to truly believe it. Even rubbed them with the back of his hand to make sure he wasn't completely losing his mind.
Your name displayed as his phone continued to vibrate in his hand.
You were calling him. For a second he felt his chest ache and thought he was going to burst into tears. Another second was riveting anxiety. Were you calling him to check on him? Break up with him? What if... what if you were calling him on accident?
He swallowed the lump in his throat and swiped it to answer. His hand was shaking as he pressed the phone to his ear. He didn't say anything. He felt like it wasn't his place. You were reaching out, you were the one who initiated this.
It was silent for a long time. The only thing that gave it away was a sudden release of breath before you finally spoke.
"Hi."
And Harry couldn't believe it. Regardless of where this conversation was headed, he could have cried at the sound of your voice again.
"Hi."
And judging by the soft noise you made on the other end, you were feeling the same way. A quick flash of sunflower yellow ignited hope between two wandering souls.
You blinked away the tears that swarmed your senses at the sound of him. He sounded like home. A little worn down and tired but still home. You weren't sure what compelled you to call him. You didn't even think you needed a reason. You cared about him and you wanted to check-in.
"How are you?"
How was he? He had been ripped in fucking half. Bleeding out with no end in sight. A constant stinging around the frame of what was left of him.
"I'm... okay." Falling apart without you. Having trouble breathing without you. He swallowed. "I'm at my mum's for a bit. How are you?"
"Oh, that's nice. I'm okay, too."
Two wounded souls on the same page. He waited for you to say something. Anything. He was petrified that he'd breathe and you'd hang up.
You took another deep breath, stabilising how overwhelmed you were by your emotions. You weren't even sure what to say. You just wanted to say something. Anything.
"I miss you."
And if for whatever reason you'd hung up then, Harry would have been fine with it. The fact that you missed him, enough to tell him so. That was good, right? That might allow his chest pains to ease up a little.
"I miss you, too."
You were both walking on eggshells around each other, a game of back and forth. He wasn't going to be the one to potentially push it too far. You called him. You initiated the break. The ball was in your court.
"Do you understand why?"
It had been nagging you all week. Did he really understand why you'd pulled back? Had he had enough time to think about it and really see where you were coming from? And if so, did he know where this left him? Was he willing to adapt to your needs like you always had for his?
"I do. It took some thinking but I see it a lot clearer now."
"I just want you to look after yourself before we move forward."
Move forward. A quick flash of sunflower yellow, golden strains that felt like liquid lightning in his veins. Hope.
And he was grateful for your wording. How you knew his issue was deep routed and had nothing to do with you. He was just a little bit stuck right now. He adored you.
"I understand that. I know I need to appreciate how well you handle everything. I get so stuck in my head about everything and I underestimate you and get worked up over every minor thing. It's not fair on you."
So effortlessly selfless, making it about you. It was lovely but you weren't sure he was listening.
"Put me aside for a second, you need to think about how you're going to get through life handling things like this how you do. Yes in relationships but also as your own person. You clearly struggle with it at times. You've been trained as a superstar but you're a human who has been caged into this life."
"I was thrown into it from such a young age. Think back then I was just excited to make music and see the world, you know? Now that I'm trying to solidify who I am without it, I can't escape it."
"I want so much with you, Harry." You were becoming teary again and you knew he could hear it. "I'm just so scared that you'll keep shutting me out."
Your fears weren't for nothing. It pained him to hear. He could easily say he'd not get so bothered by it all but that wasn't how his anxious mind worked.
"We'll take it day by day." He offered. "Until you're ready to let me back in, we can just stay in our own space. Even though it hurts being away from you, I want you to know that I'll be waiting for you. There's nothing stronger than us, okay? Day by day. Whenever you're ready."
There was nothing stronger. "I like that plan."
It was better than nothing, after all. And past calling him tonight, you had no idea where to go next. Day by day. It wasn't concrete. It offered you the time you needed. But it didn't feel right.
His anxiety would be no easy fix. It would take more than time away from each other. You wondered if working him through the next spiral would potentially help. But as much as you hated admitting it, it wasn't your job.
It was the most productive conversation you'd had with him. He wasn't fighting you. He wasn't becoming defensive. He was hearing your fears, willing to meet you halfway, and admit he was struggling. How he worked on it was to be determined.
You wanted to give him something more. Something that was hope but not actively talking about your relationship.
"I landed that client."
Harry felt a burst of overwhelming pride for you. He was so fucking proud of you. You'd worked so hard to get her to work with you. He was almost bummed it wasn't the first thing you said.
"I knew you would, smart girl. I'm so happy for you. You should be so proud."
You could hear how hard he was smiling as he said the words and that shattered you. You felt like crying all over again. You wished he was saying the words into your neck, soft and wispy before he kissed you.
"Thank you."
And then another quiet fell between you. Like you could sense where you needed to push a little further and let him in. At least an inch. You missed him too much to shut him out completely.
"Some friends and I are going out to celebrate. You should come. If you want to, that is. I know it could be weird but I want you there-"
"I'll be there. I promise."
Harry wasn't even sure what his schedule was this weekend. But you'd invited him somewhere and he wasn't about to turn it down. He could handle a few days more, even knowing they'd be anxiety-ridden. If it meant he got to see you, it would be worth it.
A bottomless pool of affliction and anguish that he'd be caught in the rifts off, fighting for breath at the ever treacherous surface. A body of water held between your cupped palms, his heart, and his fate in your hands. Nothing stronger than us. Except for the tidal wave of his dangerous thoughts.
Conjecture and aspiration, would this depict the outcome of you and him? His cherry saviour. His golden lover.
"I'll text you the details." You said and he could tell you were smiling.
It was a little one, but a smile nonetheless. And as if his heart wasn't already beating so fast at the fact that you'd reached out and been so cute, you yawned. "I'm exhausted. Had such a busy week and so much planned for tomorrow with this new client."
"Really?" He really missed talking to you.
"Yeah, have a beach shoot in Brighton and-" You cut yourself with another yawn and he chuckled.
"Get some sleep. It's late."
"Okay." You sighed, stretching in your comforter and wishing he was with you.
"Can we... can we call again tomorrow? I want to hear about your day. Like hearing your voice before I sleep." He let his honesty pour through the phone and it melted you into cherry goo in your sheets.
"Of course, baby." You sucked in a sharp breath. The term of endearment slipped from your lips almost as quickly as you had slipped from his fingers. "I-I'm sorry, I..."
"It's okay, it's a habit." Harry brushed it off.
It felt like his chest was on fire with his need to be yours again. Your soft and open behaviour towards him had taken him by surprise, you'd not talked lately and it felt like it happened so quickly. A landslide of cherry-loving, glowing golden embers sealed it in.
He wanted to tell you he loved you. He had no doubt in his mind that you knew he did. That you loved him, too. You'd told each other so over text all those days ago. But now it was different. And in the back of your mind, you wondered if you'd pushed it too far too quickly. But you had to at least try. Try to offer him your hand and see if he'd accept it.
"I'm sorry..." You swallowed, blinking up at the heavenly depiction painting on your ceiling. "I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
"I can't wait, petal. Sleep well."
"You too, Harry."
The way you said his name clung to his skin like it was magnetised to his cells.
He spent the next day feeling more energised than ever to write. He jotted down seamless words, mindless and not caring if they only made sense to him. He scribbled potential lyrics in his messy scrawl, maybe someday words he'd tell you in promises and vows.
His sleep was less anxiety-filled. Like he'd finally been able to shut his eyes and not have your teary-eyed expression haunt him in his dreams. Even Anne could pick up on it. That he seemed calmer. She didn't want to mention it just in case it stunted his happier mood. Regardless, she was happy and hoping that things were patching themselves together between you.
Your day was the most exhausting one you'd had in a long time. The new client was amazing but super demanding and had your brain working overtime to keep up with her. You were on a few different locations for a photo shoot and your feet were throbbing but you soldiered on. You'd managed to snag a free second to text Harry the details about your little celebration coming up but barely got to look at your phone aside from that.
While your day dragged on, Harry's flew by. Abundant with house chores to help his mum, many cups of tea, calls with his team, and inked words on worn paper. He'd gotten so used to spilling the contents of his heart out into his journal but in no way did it ever get easier.
He found himself in bed later that night, tucked up in the sheets and patiently waiting for you to call. He wrote large thoughts in small sentences in his journal, the ink beginning to run dry in his favourite pen.
He'd not heard from you all day and he tried not to be disheartened by it. So much progress had been made the night before. The last thing he wanted was to push you and make you potentially regret letting him in as much as you did.
His phone lit up on his bedside table and he shot up to glance at it. Simply a text from a friend. Nothing from his generous girl. You were so kind. He felt so undeserving of you and it was eating him alive.
Harry, of course, had no idea that you'd been so busy all day. You'd had no time to look at your phone and then you'd had to run around after your team until late. You were exhausted by the time you finally made it home, kicking off your shoes with a grumpy noise. After a brisk shower, you got into your comfortable clothes and slipped into bed, absolutely shattered.
You had looked forward to calling Harry all day. To hear his marvelously deep voice. No matter what he said, it always resonated in vibrations in your soul.
As you opened your phone and dialed his number, you slumped deeper into the sheets and switched off your lamp. The golden ambiance of your room diminished into nothing. You wanted to be alone with his voice, to let yourself float in the simple existence of him.
By the sixth or seventh unanswered ring, your heart just dropped. Plummeting too fast for you to reach out and catch it.
You tried to ring him a few more times but he didn't pick up. That's when your heart crash-landed, a red splatter on the pavement of your connection with him.
You knew he'd probably fallen asleep because it was so late. But you missed him so much and the wait of calling him was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.
Harry's phone buzzed where it had landed on his chest as he fell asleep. Underneath, slow breathing lungs long since accustomed to a sleeping pattern. He'd waited but he was so emotionally drained. He didn't mean to fall asleep. He wanted to talk to you so much, it was the only thing he had to keep him going.
You scraped your heart from its little pool of despair and let it go to voicemail.
And after a deep breath, you knew you wanted to leave him something sweet to wake up to. He wanted to hear about your day, as long as the voicemail would allow. A little French verbal diary for him to decode when he woke up.
Harry listened to that voice mail non-stop. He had it on repeat, his phone pressed to his ear as he dotted around his mum's house doing his usual procrastinating. It started something in his heart.
Yellow with veins of fiery gold streaming through it. He worked out a lot of what you'd said, grinning at how beautiful and wispy your voice was. Littered with tiny strains of exhaustion and he wished he could be with you and hold you.
...Tu dors ? Oh, j'suis désolée...
...Ouais, on a été à la plage...
Sensing his son was potentially clinging onto something that was imprinting itself as the only thing on Harry's mind, Anne shook her head. She sent him to the store for her. A little local deli to grab a few things she needed. She knew some fresh air would be good for him and he all but nodded, not taking the phone away from his ear for a second.
Harry entered the store, his mind on you and the voicemail you'd gifted him. He knew he'd have to head back to London today. Your celebration was tomorrow and while the thought of seeing you again fucking terrified him, he couldn't wait. He wondered what the dynamic between you would be like.
Would you let him hug you? Kiss you? Would you call him baby again?
Basket in hand, he made his way down each aisle. He had a list his mum had written for him and he made sure to check it regularly so he didn't miss anything.
"Harry?"
He turned, immediately putting on the friendly and approachable front he'd been trained to give. But he recognised the person in front of him. He was so thrown off and it took his brain a second to catch up. An old school friend, whom he'd been quite close with pre his departure into fame.
"Hey, mate. How are you?"
There was a brief hug shared and Harry could sense the wonder in his old friend's eyes as he stood before him.
"Yeah, good, cheers. What about you, man? Heard the last album, it was incredible."
"Thank you, that means a lot. I'm well, yeah. Just visiting my mum for a bit."
"Oh, lovely. Bet she misses having you around."
While it wasn't intentional of his friend at all, it stung quite a bit because it was true. But his mum was far too kind and supportive to ever make him feel guilty over it at all. If he was happy, she was happy.
"I guess." Harry laughed. "What are you up to these days?"
"Nothing exciting like you, popstar. I'm a contractor, running a little job with my- Oh, there she is."
His friend gestured behind him and he turned, seeing a woman approach, similar ages to them. And a big, round belly that made Harry's heart feel warm. His friend introduced her as his wife and it was then that Harry spotted the wedding bands they both wore.
"She's a beauty, nice to meet you. And congratulations."
"Aw, thanks. We have a little boy coming in just over a month." She beamed, running her hands over her belly and leaning her head on her husband's shoulder.
Harry would never hide his pleasure over such a beautiful part of life. In fact, he had trouble hiding his smile. But his anxiety crept in the back of his mind, an insidious monster looming and ready to devour him. He wanted this with you. He wanted it so fucking bad. Marriage. Kids. He could envision how perfect you'd be at it.
You'd carry a child so beautifully. Growing a life that was him and you, a little baby of your best qualities. He'd give foot massages every day. He'd get you any weird foods you were craving. Play with your hair. Play with your belly. Entice your child to nudge and kick against it as he cooed and chattered away to the little life inside of you. He'd take such fucking good care of you.
He'd make pancakes for your little kids every morning he could. He'd play peek-a-boo and chase them around the kitchen, their laughter filling the room. He'd read them bedtime stories, make up tales as they came to him.
But he knew the turmoil that would come with it. Pregnancy made harder by his fans and photographers following you everywhere you went. His kids would never have privacy. He'd still be touring. What if he missed things? Important things?
What if he missed ultrasounds and first words and first steps?
He shot out some pathetic excuse to his friend. Being polite before paying for the contents in his shopping basket before heading out into the cold air of the street. What started as him trying to take some deep breaths became erratic and uncontrollable.
He was so upset with himself. Despite your fears, you were willing to be close to him again, and there he was having a breakdown. Again. He'd been displayed with a normal life that others could have, dangled in front of him. Taunting him with a life he could never have. A life that you deserved, one he couldn't give you.
He felt so destroyed. Drowning, getting swallowed by the ever-rising water level in his mind. He didn't even feel panic this time. This time he accepted it. Let it distort his vision and envelop him until he was fully submerged.
You squealed in surprise as your closest friends yell and cheer for you. You'd expected a relaxed get-together but a handful of people turned into a few handfuls thanks to Renee's sneaky planning. You cupped a hand over your mouth with wide eyes in genuine shock.
"You guys!" You exclaim, suddenly so emotional. "You didn't have to do all this!"
They all told you how much you deserved it, how hard you worked, and how proud of you they were. And as the night progressed, you checked your phone less and less. You hadn't heard from him all day. And you didn't want to bother him or push him. Had he checked the voice mail that you'd left?
You didn't, however, lessen the number of times your eyes flickered to the door of the bar you were in. Hoping he'd walk in and reset your heart.
He would be here. He said he would be. He promised.
You polished off your second glass of wine as Renee approached you with a sombre expression. She could sense your meltdown brewing, your eyes had been wet for more than an hour and you barely spoke to anyone for a concerning amount of time.
"Hey..." She was cautious. "Is Harry coming tonight?"
"He promised." Was all you said, spoken light and desperate.
He would be here. He said he would be. He promised.
"Then he'll come." Renee tried to keep positive for your sake. She didn't know how hard you'd been fighting for this relationship to work.
There was a yellow sunflower at the heart of your two connected souls. Bright glances of it appearing briefly when you needed it the most. Sunny hope, warm ambiance of what he was to you.
It wilted, petal by petal falling to the soil in which it was rooted. A hopeful flourish blooming only to deteriorate into nothing. Burnt yellow, timid and golden that had lost its glow. It was dark in your soul, leaving you to feel around the walls of it and trying to solidify the surroundings of yourself without him.
He would be here. He said he would be. He promised.
He would show up.
But he never did.
-
I'm sorry...
And also sorry for any typos... my brain is fried.
This chapter is dedicated to Lu because she's been giving me so much strength and love and support and she deserves the world.
You all do, I hope you're well! Love you loads x
Come chat on twitter, I'm super active there and give heaps of updates and teasers of my books! @ ttemptress_
Make sure you vote, I'll see you in the next chapter!
xxx