Three months after Harry called off his relationship with Y/n, it was his birthday.
And just like every other year for the past five, the boys decided to spend his birthday weekend at Louis’ family lake house. It was one of the few times a year they’d go as the house is only saved for special occasions. It’s secluded—far from the city—but close enough so that it’s not too much out of their way.
Their tradition when it comes to Harry’s birthday has remained the same for years now—abonfire, a couple of poker games, countless amounts of beer, and occasional midnight skinny dipping.
However, this year, the only change in tradition is Y/n not attending.
The second Harry steps foot out of his car, the whole idea of spending his birthday without Y/n makes him feel sick to his stomach, considering the lake house was their favorite place to be together. They didn’t know why, but something about the privacy and the exclusiveness of it enhanced their relationship in unimaginable ways. They have had almost too many occasions where they would flee from London without a word and spend a couple days alone there.
Which is why the whole idea just seems so wrong to him.
And he really can’t be any more depressed if he tried. Even when his best friends are already having what seems to be the time of their lives, he can’t even pretend to enjoy himself in the slightest.
He can’t blame them for their excitement, though. He shouldn’t have expected them to be any less because they had absolutely no idea what was going on.
He didn’t tell them—he didn’t tell them any of it. Because if they had found out that he let Y/n slip right through his fingers, he’d never hear the end of it. And in between constantly beating himself up for his decision and sulking in his guilt every second of every day, he didn’t need anyone else to remind him of how much he fucked up.
But ever since Y/n left, something in him changed.
He had no desire to fight anymore.
Three days after he broke it off, he was worse than ever. Getting himself into numerous fights multiple times a day. It was his way of coping the loss of her— the loss of his only true humanity. However, when the fourth day came, and Harry started to really understand the fact that he was never going to see Y/n again, was when the pain really set in.
She tried so hard for him. She pushed him harder than anybody else had— nobody put as much faith in him as she had. She stayed with him in times he truly didn’t deserve it. Hell, there were even days where she was so livid with him that all she could do was yell and yell and yell until she had no anger left in her.
But even then, she still slept in the same bed as him—still kept him by her side because she wanted to reassure him that no matter what happens between them, she’d never leave him.
He couldn’t live with letting all of that go—letting her go—so he decided to prove himself wrong.
It was the biggest fight of his life—the one against himself; when half of him wanted to inflict his pain onto other people and the other half wanting so desperately to change himself for the sake of their relationship. But he knew he was stronger than the monster inside of him, even though he convinced himself otherwise. What made him strong was his relationship with Y/n.
He would stop at nothing to get her back.
As for Y/n, it didn’t take Y/n more than a couple days to tell Zayn what had happened between them.
He called her, asking what was going on since everyone has noticed Harry had been a complete wreck with no sign of her in his life. She explained—in the best that she could between her harsh sobs and broken whimpers—that Harry had left her. He broke up with her, tried to convince her that they didn’t belong together, and eventually confessed that he just couldn’t be with her anymore.
Y/n made him promise not to tell anybody else because she felt that this was Harry’s responsibility. Which, luckily for her, Zayn kept his promise and never said a word about it to anyone.
The rest of the guys tried to get it out of him, though. They never forced it, but occasionally mentioned her in casual conversations to see what he would say or do. But each and every time, he ignored them. The mention of her name killed him on the inside, and he still can’t face the reality that they aren’t together anymore.
To say the guys have been concerned for him is an understatement. Sure, he’s stopped fighting, but he’s still not the same Harry he was when he was with Y/n. He’s constantly distracted—his mind always somewhere not where it’s supposed to be. He drinks more, too, which used to spike up his anger, but now only spikes up his depression. He has no motivation to do anything besides stay in his house and dwell on the guilt he’s carried.
Getting him to the lake house is one of their ways of getting him to heal. They just don’t know how much this place kills him, though. God, he can’t even look at a single square inch of it without seeing her in his head.
How the hell is he going to get through the weekend?
The boys begin to notice how hurt Harry is when he begins to prepare for the bonfire they planned on having later on that night. And instead of telling them how truly heartbreaking this weekend is going to be for him, he avoids that topic of conversation completely.
He was already depressed enough, he didn’t need to bury himself in it on his own birthday.
Harry groans, lifting heavy piles of wood and constructing them into a setup for later. He’s finished now—has been finished for a while—but he just can’t stop. All he can think about is how Y/n isn’t with him—how she’s probably in her new home, sulking, hating him for ruining her life.
It’s his weekend, and she probably hates him.
He sighs, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward, eyes trained on the ground. He just can’t get her out of his head, no matter how much he tries to distract himself, almost every waking moment he’s thinking about the first time they met.
-
They were at a party Zayn’s aunt decided to host. It was a casual-formal event, just something special for her close friends to feel welcomed to upon their return to London after being in the states for a while.
Zayn was, obviously, invited. His aunt even insisted on him bringing his best friends, which he probably would have done, anyways, because he wasn’t too familiar with the family the party was for. The only member he’s ever really talked to was Y/n. She was super shy, very introverted, but was extremely sweet nonetheless. She had talked to Zayn a couple times when they stayed at his aunt’s house simultaneously. Other than that, they didn’t talk much.
“C’mon, you’re just gonna stand in the corner all night?” Zayn approached Harry, a glass of vodka held loosely in his hands.
Harry was pissed he was even in the situation he was in. Social events weren’t his thing—never something he found entertaining. He didn’t care about this stupid family’s return, he didn’t even know them.
“This is the last goddam place I want to be right now” Harry seethed, “I’m pissed off at you for even fucking forcing me here, don’t force me to try and mingle, too.”
He let out a slight grumble in Zayn’s direction before making his way to the mini bar. On his way, in the midst of his aggravation, he felt a body collide with his.
He groaned, a slight growl in the mix, definitely not in any mood for people to get in his way.
“Watch where you’re—"
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” The girl gasped, “I didn’t see you there.”
Harry’s body immediately froze at the sight of her. She was the most stunning woman he’s ever seen. Her eyes were sparkling in the dim light, lips parted slightly due to the impact, her body complimented beautifully by her outfit, leaving him absolutely speechless.
“I—It’s okay” He stuttered, eyes never leaving hers, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
She nodded slightly, completely captivated by the most handsome man standing in front of her. God, how he was so beautiful? She would have never known a man like this could ever exist in this world.
“I’m okay.” She softly spoke, “Thank you.”
Harry insisted on buying her a drink as a way to apologize for not paying attention to where he was going. They chatted for a while, mainly about the party. Come to find out, she was the daughter of Zayn’s aunt’s friends. She hadn’t gone to the states with them, however, she didn’t really make too much of an effort to go and see her during her stay in London.
They were talking quite well, considering Harry definitely did give her an attitude at times and somehow made her feel extremely intimidated whenever he did so. But he had to admit, it was one of the best conversations he’s had in a while, despite his unfriendly character.
“What’s your name, by the way?” Harry finally asked.
She blushed slightly.
“I’m Y/n. And you?”
“Harry.“
“Oh, you’re Harry.” Y/n said quietly, a hint of realization in her tone of voice.
Harry didn’t like the way she said it—as if insulting him in a way. Which, for him, was a bit of a let down considering there was a moment where he genuinely believed she was different.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Harry snapped, his voice somehow rougher and raspier than how it was before, “Like you’re any better?”
His harsh glare upon her made Y/n feel belittled. When he spoke to her, he made her feel as if her existence was the dirt beneath his shoes. No wonder Zayn had warned her, no girl like Y/n could survive five minutes with such a vulgar man.
“Oh, um—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just—it’s just that Zayn had told me to stay away from you.” She stuttered, her voice barely above a mumble.
She still refused to make eye contact with him, only for the sake of her safety. She was too afraid to look at him—when his body seemed tense and eyes filled with aggression. She was an easy prey for people like him to feed on—to get a good kick out of.
She had to get out of it immediately.
“I should go.” She muttered as her fingers brushed loose pieces of hair behind her ear. “It was lovely to meet you.”
Almost too quickly, she grabbed her bag off the bar and began to make her way back to where she was before. However, before making it too far, she felt a hand grab ahold of her wrist.
He didn’t know why, but when he had seen the fear set in Y/n’s eyes, an overwhelming feeling of guilt set upon him. It was strange—to feel so much of it hit him over one girl’s reaction. He had done this many times to many people, all of which having a moment of complete vulnerability during his encounters with them. But they didn’t necessarily make him feel anything more than the slightest bit of regret.
“Hey,” He whispered softly, gently pulling her back to where he was standing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
Y/n looked into his eyes as he spoke, giving her the reassurance she needed. He was genuine, she could tell, his eyes screamed sympathy.
“It’s oka—“
“But Zayn is right,” Harry continued, slowly letting her arm go. “You should stay away from me.”
Before she had any time to react, he had walked away from her.
The rest of the night, Y/n was determined to speak to him again. After meeting him for the first time, she had an innumerable amount of questions she pressed Zayn to answer. Why is he always angry? Is he dangerous? But why was he so nice to me when I walked away?
Zayn explained that Harry wasn’t someone she should be concerned about. All he told her was that he had been hurt one too many times and it caused him to become violent towards those who threaten potential pain. He doesn’t apologize to anybody and told her that it was quite strange how he had to her.
Harry couldn’t stop thinking about her. He didn’t know what it was, exactly, that intrigued him so much. Besides the fact she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on, she was so easy to talk with. She was quiet, and apart of him liked that about her. The moment he hurt her, he just felt so bad, like her saddness was the last thing he ever wanted to see.
Which is why he walked away from her.
When he saw Zayn later that night, he had asked about her. He asked how they had known each other, asked about her life and where she lived. He was determined to know more about her. It wasn’t even that he just wanted to, but it felt like he had to, like he was being compelled to feel this way toward her.
Right as he was about to leave the party, he had heard her voice behind him
“Harry?”
He slowly turned to look at her. She was looking as shy as ever, fingers fiddling together, cheeks blushed, eyes unsure. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to say, but she wanted to try.
“I want to get to know you.” She spoke softly, her hand nervously reaching to her lips.
He swore his heart melted. The second the words fell from her lips, he was willing to do whatever it took to get to know her.
“I know you said I should stay away from you, but I don’t want to.“
-
“Harry,” Zayn calls a bit loudly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, “do you want to talk about it?”
Harry didn’t realize he was near tears until Zayn snapped him out of his trance. And he didn’t look at them as he returns to placing the logs in piles, contemplating whether or not to disregard his statement or not.
Of course, he wants to talk about how much mental pain he’s in from not being with Y/n anymore, but he just can’t talk about it. They know that, too, because if he were ready, he would have already.
“Can you stop asking about her, please?” He groans, tossing the last piece of wood onto the top of the pile, “I know you guys know, so please, don’t make me say it.”
He doesn’t bother to look at them, instead, wiping off some of the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel before making his way inside the house to change out of his sweaty clothes. He didn’t want to seem rude, but he’s completely and utterly broken, if he has to be questioned about her again he swears he’ll actually become ill.
Half-heartedly making his way to the bedroom, Harry opens up the duffle bag that sits on top of the bed, searching through the folded clothes to find his plain gray t-shirt he plans on wearing for later that night. Slipping off his flannel and sliding off the now dirty white tank top underneath, he puts on the t-shirt, throwing the dirty clothes into the laundry bin.
Once changed, Harry begins to unpack the remaining clothes out of his bag. His hands are shaking as he does so, breathing heavy when he sets his clothes down on the bed. His stomach twists with sick at the idea of sleeping in this goddamn room.
This was the first place they made love. It was within the first month of being with each other, filled with beautiful romance and bliss. It was the best night of his life. It was the first time he had touched someone so delicately before—the first time his violent hands spread love throughout her body.
He said words he never thought he’d say again. Words that he actually fucking meant, words to express how his once cold heart felt warm for what felt like the first time in his life.
-
It was her first visit to the lake house. She had just finished cleaning up the remaining dishes, insisting that even though she was the guest, she had to contribute to the clean up after having a barbecue. Harry was sitting by the kitchen table, just watching her, observing her as she hummed an unknown tune, her hair messily tied up on her head. He could hear the boys playing poker in the living room, which he would have played if Harry hadn’t already planned on taking Y/n out near the lake after she had finished cleaning up.
“Alright, Harry, all done.” she smiled, “Now what was it you wanted to show me?”
She made her way toward his sitting frame, taking a seat right on top of his lap. Combing her fingers through his hair, she planted a delicate kiss on the tip of his nose, making Harry’s face blush the color of roses. He reached his arms around her waist, nuzzling her body against his.
“Hm,” He hummed, kissing the exposed skin on her shoulder. “Was gonna show you the lake, but almost considering just cuddling you all night long.”
Y/n smiled as Harry leaned in to press a hard kiss against her soft lips. She breathed out heavily through her nose, fingertips moving to caress his cheeks, his unshaved stubble scraping against their pads.
“Gross!” They heard Niall call from the living room, “I call the room farthest from yours!”
They both laughed, Harry rolling his eyes at the comment.
“As fantastic that sounds” Y/n smirked, raking her fingers on his back under his shirt, “this is my first time here, and it’s your birthday weekend. I want to explore it with you.”
She leaned down to quickly peck his chapped lips, which soon turned into a wild smirk. His green eyes looked into her brown ones, his fingers dancing along the nape of her neck.
“I can do that for you.”
Once they were by the lake, they sat in silence together. She was cuddled into him, sitting in between his legs, her head rolled back onto his shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. They admired the nature they were surrounded by, overwhelmed by the feeling of each other’s company under the moon. It felt like a dream, every bit of it did. It was such a surreal moment for them. They didn’t need to speak about anything for a while, being this close to each other, feeling each other’s bodies against one another was enough for them. They felt closer than ever.
They kissed, and kissed, and kissed. So much so that Y/n ended up on top of him. Her legs were straddling his waist, hands roaming under his shirt, nails scratching at his ribs. Harry had his hands all in her hair, as if trying to pull her closer to him, as if it were even possible. Her lips traveled down to his neck, kissing every bit of the exposed skin. She just couldn’t get enough. They both couldn’t.
“Y/n.” Harry whispered.
“I love you, Harry.” She muttered against his skin.
“So in love with you.”
It was the first time it was said. They both knew they loved each other once they met. Hell, it was obvious. It didn’t need to be said, but she said it anyways. She said it like she meant it, too, like her heart was blooming as she spoke. God, he even felt her tears against his neck. She was so overwhelmed by their love, the words just slipped out in the moment, but oh how she meant them.
In that moment, he was a weak man. He completely surrendered himself to her love. He was willing for it to have all control over him. He made a promise to himself, to devote his life proving his love for her, proving that he will be the man she deserves in her life, not the man he had other people see.
“Y/n,” he whispers again, fingers gliding down her waist, “I’m so in love with you. I always will be.“
That night, once he had taken her to their room, they made love over and over and over again. It was their first time, opening up to each other in a completely different way than they usually did. His lips captured hers perfectly, his hands fit in hers as if they were, quite literally, made for each other. His name became a mantra, her body became a temple. It was an entirely new level of trust. It was a night that they could have re-lived every day for the rest of their lives, easily, with not a complaint in the world.
-
“Fuck” Harry spits, reaching the back of his hand up to eyes in an attempt to wipe the tears threatening to spill.
He can’t sleep in here. There’s no way he could sleep here, not without Y/n. Not without her in his arms, not without making love to her beforehand. His bed at home made him sick enough, but here? He just can’t fathom it.
He begins to shove the clothes he’s started to unpack back into his suitcase. He can’t stay in here another minute. He’ll lose his goddamn mind.
While zipping up his bag, he hears the front door open. Niall’s laugh fills the silence in the house upon his entrance, which gives Harry an idea on how to fix his sleeping situation without raiding the couch.
“Niall!” Harry yells, slinging the bag over his shoulder.
Niall makes his way up the steps toward his voice.
“Yeah?!”
“We’re switching rooms!”
“Oh hell no!”
Niall goes into the room Harry’s in, his face strict and serious.
“You and Y/n have fucked on that bed way too many times. I don’t even think you washed the sheets last time you guys did it on there, either. Pretty sure this room has a permanent stench of sex because of you two.”
Harry’s jaw clenches. Normally, he’d have a rational conversation until he got his way, but he isn’t taking this situation lightly.
So, instead, he grabs Niall’s wrist harshly, eyes narrowing down at him as he takes a threatening step closer to him.
Niall’s eyes widen as he looks up at him. Not even because a small part of him felt intimidated, but because this is the first time Harry has shown aggression toward anybody within the past couple of months. There is a chance the part he’s been hiding is becoming unleashed, but Niall knows it was easily set off by Harry’s many failed attempts to get Y/n out of his head.
“I don’t think you understand, Niall” Harry seethes, “I may have not laid my hands on anyone in months, but missing Y/n doesn’t only make me sad, it makes me dangerous. I will not hesitate to do whatever it takes to be as far away from this room as possible. Now I will not tell you again, we are switching rooms.”
Niall rips his hand out of Harry’s grip, shaking it around a bit from the amount of pressure Harry was gripping it with.
“Alright, Jesus,” He groans, “but you better wash those fucking sheets. I refuse to sleep in a bed full of sex.”
Harry lets out a breath he was holding in, somewhat relieved that he doesn’t have to be spending three nights in his own personal hell.
Adjusting the strap of his bag onto his shoulder, Harry slowly nods as he continues to look at Niall. He feels bad for treating him in the way he just did, but the idea of becoming more hurt than he already was is something he wouldn’t be able to live with.
“Yeah, yeah I will.” He mutters. “I’m sorry, by the way, for that. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I can’t be in this room for another second without losing my mind. I really can’t.”
Niall sighs, slowly reaching up to wrap his arms security around Harry. Being like his brother, he really has felt so bad for what he’s been going through. He can’t imagine the heartbreak, or how he’s even surviving the breakup as well as he has.
Harry reaches his arms around Niall’s body, hugging him back.
“It’s okay, bud. I get it, you don’t have to apologize. I’ll even wash the sheets for you.”
Harry lets out a slight laugh, shaking his head briefly before detaching himself from Niall and making his way into his room.
Once settled, Harry makes his way down to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers and take some time to himself. If this weekend is going to haunt the living shit out of him, he might as well try to make himself relax the slightest bit.
With a bottle of beer held loosely in his hand, he opens the sliding door that leads to the porch. Leaning his body against the doorway, Harry admires the sun setting on the lake, watching as the wind moves the leaves in small dance.
For the first time since the breakup, he actually feels at peace.
“She broke up with you, didn’t she?” Liam asks, suddenly joining Harry on the porch as he sips on a bottle of beer, slinging his arm around Harry’s shoulders.
Harry rolls his eyes, the accusation of her leaving him must have been the topic of all their conversations.
Of course, that’s what they thought, it must have been so convenient for them to think Y/n could live a great life without him while he would be a danger to the streets. That’s how much he needed her, but they never seemed to notice how much she needed him—not how Harry noticed.
“Why is everyone so convinced that if we were to ever break up, she’d be the one that called it off?” Harry snarls.
“I was the one who ended it.” He continues, “It wasn’t working out.”
He takes a swig from his beer, eyes still trained on the view of the lake. He doesn’t want to continue this conversation—doesn’t want to relive the night that tore his life apart. But most of all, he doesn’t want to talk about it here, at this stupid fucking lake house, and have to dwell on the pain he wishes he could erase. He doesn’t want to be reminded that he was the one who did this to them.
“C’mon,” Liam sighs, “She was the only thing you had. She was the only one to get this Harry back. You were just afraid she’d leave you first.”
Harry decides not to answer, not knowing how to respond. Of course, that’s why he ended it—that’s how he operates. He pushes those away just so that nobody pushes him away.
He could deal with anybody else doing it, but if Y/n had left him first, there was no way he’d ever make it through that. Not a fiber in his body doubts that for even a second.
“Have you spoken to her at all?” Liam breaks the silence.
Harry looks down at his beer, circling it in his hands. Why does he keep asking him questions he clearly doesn’t want to answer?
“She said she never wanted to see me again.” Harry mumbles, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left.”
“Jesus, Harry.” Liam whispers. “Are you okay?”
Something about that question makes something inside of Harry twist.
Is he okay? How can he be okay? He hasn’t seen the love of his life—hasn’t talked to her, hasn’t even heard the sound of her breathing in months. Every part of his body hurts every time he thinks about her because the feeling of being away from her is the most painful feeling in the world.
His life was consumed by her love. His entire world changed when he met her. Nobody else could he lay his hands so sweetly on, could his voice speak so softly to, could his heart swell so greatly for. She changed him, even though he was too scared to admit it to her, she changed him. She gave him hope—gave him a reason to hold onto himself.
Since she’s left, in times when he’s at his all-time low, all he can think about is how his arms felt holding her, how his lips felt kissing her, how fucking relieving and beautiful it was to talk to her, and how he let all of that go.
How can I be okay?
Tears cloud his vision, his hands begin to shake. Oh, God. He thought he was over this. He thought he was over the emotions, he didn’t deserve them. He did this, he caused all this, this was his decision. Yet here he is, again, fighting back the tears that have been so desperate to be released.
“I mean” Harry begins, his voice shaking as he speaks, “I mean, I fucked up everything. I had everything I ever needed and I was the one who let it go. I was starting to think that her leaving me would be worse but now—”
He’s choking back sobs, face wet with unwelcomed tears, “Now I can’t stop thinking about how much she hates me right now. She has a home without me, she lives her life without me, she is falling asleep at night without me. And the worst part is that she didn’t want it that way. That was all me, everything is because of me!”
Liam rushes to wrap his arms around him, pulling Harry’s head down onto his shoulder so that he has a place to cry. Harry’s holding him like it’s his every last bit of hope, almost as if grasping for reassurance for his relationship with Y/n.
“Harry—”
“Trust me, Liam, I didn’t want this, either” He continues, words scrambling out of his mouth, “but what else was I supposed to do? And now I’m at this stupid fucking lake house where we talked about getting married and she’s not here with me and I can’t do this anymore!”
He’s completely helpless now. His body is weak, shaking against Liam’s tense frame. He’s in so much pain, so much heartbreak that he’s almost screaming, begging God for some mercy because he can’t take this anymore. The constant thought of her—the constant reminder that he’s never going to see her again rips his heart out every second of every day.
“I just really don’t want to know what it’s like to live another day without her” His voice quivers, “I never do.”
Harry’s wet eyes meet Liam’s sympathetic ones. Liam opens his mouth, preparing to say something, but Harry simply shakes his head.
He can’t do this anymore.
He pats Liam’s shoulder—thanking him for being by his side—before turning around to walk away. He slides the glass door open, walking inside the kitchen to replace his now empty bottle of beer with a new one.
“Wait,” Liam mumbles, “Wait, Harry, I have to tell you something.”
Harry stops in his place, slowly turning his body around to look at him. He cocks his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed, seeming confused.
“Y/n, she’s—she’s coming here tonight.”
***
Credits:https://harry-writings.tumblr.com/post/156836542802/stay-away-from-me