★
January 19th 2014
Seven years ago...
"Is this skirt too short?"
When I ask the question, I pull gently on the hem of my short skirt which seems to be showing more of my tanned legs than would be deemed appropriate for the occasion.
Harry leans back on his hands, spreading his thighs subtly as he rests back against the bed we've barely left these last couple of days.
"You look hot, Arls."
Sighing, I mutter a small. "I know," Because I have never felt anything less than incredibly desirable around Harry.
He makes me feel wanted and gorgeous as his bright green eyes slowly rake up and down my body with a sinful smirk that makes me roll my eyes.
I've never actually felt like that before. Feeling attractive because of your looks and feeling attractive because of your personality are two very different things and Harry manages to encapsulate both in each comment he grants me.
"I can't look hot while meeting your mum and sister," I tell him bluntly. "I need to look respectable."
Running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, Harry shakes his head so that his growing hair tickles against his ears. "Trouble, when have you ever been respectable?"
"That–" I point at him while glancing down at myself and the dangerously short skirt that hugs my figure too tightly. "You can't call me Trouble in front of them, they'll get the wrong impression."
"Arls, c'mon..." He smiles coyly. "It's just what I call you, they're not going to think anything of it."
"They might." I counter quickly.
"When are you going to be done?" He asks me with nothing but kindness, leaning back, he flops against the bed.
"I haven't even decided what to wear yet."
I hear him hum as he stares at the ceiling. "Well, you just let me know when you're done, Arls."
Turning around to find the dress options that are hanging up in Harry's wardrobe, I pinch my lips into a nervous grimace that I am refusing to show him.
"What are you wearing?" My eyes find his figure lazing on the bed through the mirror.
I watch as he lifts his head with a strain to look down at himself and his plain white T-shirt and then the skinny pair of black jeans that are welded to his skin these days.
"This?"
The nonchalant tone in his voice makes me frown and then spin back around to stare at him incredulously.
"Really? That?"
He laughs with a boyish grin. "Baby, it's just my mum and Gem. She isn't the Queen of England, she's just my mum—"
I shake my head with a shudder at how apprehensive I am about this. This is the first time that I am meeting Harry's family and I need to find the right outfit.
"Your fans consider her the real Queen of England, how am I supposed to argue with that?"
His face practically lights up with a radiance that shines from each of his pores.
"Really?" He scratches at the back of his head while I nod. "God, she'll love that,"
"Harry?" I sharply call his name as I lift out another dress from where it was hanging in the wardrobe. "Focus, Pretty boy..."
"Right..." He nods, sitting up straighter and setting his lips into a straight and unwavering look of determination. "Focusing, what other options do we have?"
I sigh, lifting a patterned dress that is far longer but has quite a large slit up the side of it. Now that I hold it in my hand and present it to Harry as an option, I feel like this is not the one for today.
"This one?"
Pinching his lips, Harry shoves them to the side of his mouth and then shakes his head with gentle politeness that makes me feel like he is trying his hardest to be nice.
Sighing, I pluck out the final option and hold it up for him to slowly nod at. "I like this one,"
Taking this as a good sign, I rush into the bathroom and start to peel the inappropriately short dress from my figure and dump it on the ground as I hurriedly change into the new outfit.
With it on, I glance at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and finally let my lips curl up into an appreciative smile.
"Good choice, Pretty boy!" I call through the door, running my hands down my stomach.
"Can I see?" He yells back and I think I can hear him climbing off the bed frame and plodding over to the closed bathroom door.
Shaking my head, I smirk as I run my fingers through the bottom length of my hair to break apart the curls that I had done only minutes ago. "Nuh uh–"
Harry slams his fist into the door with urgency. It was like he was going to die if he couldn't see me soon.
"What? I'm not allowed to look at you now?" He mutters with a pout when I barely open the door with a little gap left for me to poke my head through.
"Not yet,"
Smiling up at him, I feather my lips into a pucker which he quickly matches when he bends down for a kiss. Leaning his hands above my head on the doorframe, he tries to deepen the kiss but I am determined to get us to meet his mother and sister on time.
That means I can't get distracted by his lips.
Not right now.
Pulling back, I shake my head and back away into the protective confines of the bathroom. Harry has other plans though because he kicks the door open so that it whacks against the wall with a thump.
Playfully, I start to back away from him with a ferocious grin.
"Arls, they won't care if we are a little late..." He is almost pleading with me to give in but this is something that I won't be backing down on.
I move further back as he takes steps inside of the bathroom with a smile that is so cheeky, it matches the dimples and the blazing green of his eyes.
"Harry–" I warn.
His dark eyebrow raises as we enter into a standoff. His hands come out to hover cautiously in front of me in case I decide to dart off to the side in a run.
"Arls–" He draws out my name with a mischievous smugness. "Stop messing, baby."
"I'm not messing," I reply, trying to creep back as he takes another teasing step closer. Despite this, I can't wipe the grin off my face. "You're the one messing."
With that, Harry finally makes his move and darts forward with a childish laugh that echoes happily around the bathroom as he dives for me.
Squealing, I bolt out of the way and side step in the opposite direction which gives me enough time to race from the small bathroom and out into the large body of his bedroom where I stand on one side of the bed. Harry is quick to follow me, taking his stance on the other side of the bed.
His grin curls into a smirk as he hungrily stares at me breathing heavily.
Moving around slowly, he takes cautious steps in my direction. But this time when I go to run away, I am not quick enough. The force of Harry's arms winding around my waist pulls me back into his chest.
Lifting my feet off the ground, I thrash about in a fit of laughter until he settles me back on the floor and uses his hands to swivel me around to face him. Our chests meet and suddenly the playfulness of the moment dissipates and it feels like all of the oxygen has been sucked from the room.
Snaking his soft fingertips down the length of my arm, I feel the trail of goosebumps that scrub over my skin in his wake as he works his way down to my fingers. Once he has a hold of them, he lifts my hand gently above my head and nimbly takes grip on three of my fingers.
"Do a spin for me, baby?"
I smile, obliging and twirling around so that the simple, black dress that I was wearing swirls around me.
"You're so beautiful, Arlie." He says sincerely, muttering through barely parted lips as he just stares at me with a dainty smile.
"Thank you," I grin.
"And that smile-" He points to my face where I was smiling so contagiously. "That smile is... never lose that, okay?"
I nod.
"Promise me?"
I nod again, letting him lower my hand and tug me closer again. "I promise, H."
Present day...
"Turn!" Jonathan barks the order as I stand in front of the mirror.
I stand blankly, trying to turn my disgruntled grimace into an appreciative smile but no matter what I do, I can't change it.
"I said turn!" He all but shouts again when I don't immediately jump to his demand.
"Okay, jeez!" I grumble. "Calm down, it's not life or death."
Ignoring me, he tuts in disapproval of me answering him back. Instead of acknowledging me, Jonathan turns to Kate, the costume designer for the movie, and starts to converse with her instead.
Completely acting as if I don't exist.
"I think it needs to be taken in here," Jonathan sharply pinches the material of the vintage-style dress that I was wearing so that it clenches around my waist and makes me sharply inhale. "...and lower the neckline another inch..."
"Another inch?" I question staring at my body in the mirror while standing on a small pedestal and getting fitted with each costume. "Another inch would mean my tits are going to–"
"Another inch!" Jon ignores me and turns straight to our costume designer who cautiously gazes at me before scribbling it down in her notepad as I sigh.
This isn't my movie.
Not my movie and not my decision.
"What about the length?" Kate questions mousily.
She looks down at the magenta pink dress that I was wearing.
Jonathan gazes upon me as if I was an animal in the zoo and then stares at the length of the dress with dissatisfaction.
"Shorter."
"But-" I protest, worried that if we made the dress shorter, it would lose some of the historical accuracy from the time period and how women used to dress in the fifties.
"No one is asking you, my little star!" Jonathan grumbles with an edge in his voice but I just can't stand by and let him ruin the accuracy of this movie.
I've done my research, I know what women wore back then.
"You can't make it shorter, that's not how people used to dress!"
"Arlie!" He snarls through his teeth. "Would you please just the fuck shut up for two seconds!"
Hanging my head low, I slowly start to give up and feel another part of me fizzle out as he distinguishes yet another flame inside of me.
Standing like a doll, I do as I am told and get changed in and out of each possible outfit while Jon gives our costume designer notes and changes that he wants to be implemented. Most of which are things to accentuate the womanly nature of my body.
Or in other words, most of which is to sexualise me and throw off the accuracy of the outfits.
But, hey, whatever he wants, right?
I bite my tongue, standing still and acting like a human mannequin as the final outfit gets slipped over my head and fastened around my waist.
It is white and fairly simple besides the horrendously large and rather dark blood stain that marks my stomach.
"So this is for the final scene." Our costume designer explains and then holds up one that is almost identical only without the giant red blood stain infiltrating the purity of the white dress.
I look down at the red blood mark on my stomach as the door of the trailer swings open and a person starts to walk in.
"Oh? Sorry, I thought I was told to come here for my fitting?" Harry's eyes dart around the room, specifically looking at Jonathan for permission and then at Kate, our costume designer before they land on me with indifference. "I can come back since you're clearly still in the middle of something–"
"No, come on in, Harry!" Jonathan grins, once again sucking up to him and caring more about Harry being comfortable than I was. "Arlie was nearly done, right Sugar Plum?"
I stare through the mirror without replying but my nostrils flare with irritation as he once again uses that patronising nickname.
"Right?" His elbow jabs into my ribs to elicit some kind of response.
"Sorry?" I snark. "Am I allowed to speak now? I thought you told me to shut the fuck up? No?"
"Arlie!" Jonathan reprehends but I just roll my eyes. "Don't even start-"
Shrugging, I stare at him with malice through the reflection of the glass. "Don't even start. You're the one being an asshole!"
"We have a guest present." Jon bares through his clenched teeth. "Be quiet!"
"It's only Harry!" I refuse. "He doesn't care!"
"Actually–" Harry cuts in but I shake my head, glaring at him through the mirror and begging him to be quiet.
For his own good but also for mine.
I will never hear the end of it if he were to try and stand up for me now.
"Nevermind then," He mumbles, hanging his head and sinking back into the couch he was on.
I sigh, feeling awful all of a sudden and then the longer that I stand up on that stupid pedestal while pins are jabbed into the hems of costumes and the waistlines to take them in; I start to feel more like an exhibition.
"This one needs to be shorter too!" Jonathan demands quietly, staring down his nose at Kate until she scribbles it down in her notepad and kneels down to raise the hem temporarily with pins.
"Harry?" I call out softly, capturing his attention as he looks up from his phone expectantly.
Pulling a tight smile, he shows me silently that he is listening to me.
"Do you think that these dresses need to be shorter?"
"I um–" His lips as his jaw slacks a little.
Clearing his throat, he blinks rapidly and carefully skids his eyes down the length of my body to the hem of the skirt.
"I don't think I am exactly qualified–"
His nervous eyes flash to both Jonathan and Kate as if to tell me that he can't say what he wants. Kate is softly watching him but Jonathan is once again sporting a triumphant scowl that is enough to curdle dairy.
"It's okay." I prompt. "You can say it. It's your opinion and I'd like it,"
Swallowing, he looks up at me. "You would?"
I nod. "Yeah. So?"
Returning his sight back down to the skirt he tilts his head.
"No. I think it is the perfect length. Any shorter and you'd lose the value of the fifties–"
"Thank you!" I exclaim in victory, throwing my arms up to rejoice that someone has their head screwed on and remembers that we are supposed to be posing this film as a period movie. "See, even Harry agrees with me?"
"Even?" Harry repeats with a teasing laugh. "Thanks, Arls!"
Jonathan scoffs before folding his arms over his chest. "With all due respect, Harry is not a costume designer."
"Neither are you," I counter. "Kate is though so..."
Turning to Kate, I smile warmly at her and lift the sides of my skirt so it fans out.
"What do you think? Is it a good length without alterations?"
Silently, Kate nods her head before flicking her eyes to the side to see the horror on Jonathan's face.
Rolling his eyes, he huffs a heavy breath out of his nose as he turns an odd shade of red from how mad he is at me.
"I seem to recall that I am the director, but since you want to make all the fucking decisions, Arlie, be my fucking guest!"
Harry starts to shuffle in his seat but I catch his eyes and shake my head so discreetly that you could barely see the movement of it.
Tilting his head in desperation, I know he is pleading with me but I know Jonathan, I know how this whole charade works.
"I'm fucking done here! Make your own costume decisions, I don't give a fuck!"
Gathering his stuff, I watch as he storms around the trailer while grabbing his jacket, keys and phone from the side of the sofa where Harry is now awkwardly sitting and watching this all unfold.
"Real professional for a director!" I snark back only to be met with the slamming of the trailer door.
I don't know why I stay with Jonathan when he acts like this. Deep down I know we aren't destined for each other. We are not even compatible.
But when you are cold; any fire will keep you warm.
Fire is fire.
Warmth is warmth.
Just like love is love.
Any love, even corrupt love, keeps your heart just that little bit saner than before.
So that is why I stand there on the pedestal, with my head held high even though I feel as if Jonathan has just cut twelve inches off my height. I avoid Harry's scrutinising glare that burns into the back of my head with a fierceness that I want to hide away from.
But I don't.
Instead, I silently let Kate finish up pinning both of the final two dresses into place that needs to be taken in at my waist to fit better. After that, she quickly fits some other accessories and smaller garments which aren't as important as the dresses.
By the time that I am throwing on a hoodie and gathering up my things, Harry tucks his phone away and stands from the couch with a small smile aimed in Kate's direction.
It is only now that I really pay attention to him while gathering up my belongings.
He has these rather daring sweatpants on that are loads of pastel colours blocked into a pattern. His white T-shirt but when he turns and reaches up over his head to grab the back of the collar, I can see the same ombre colours spelt into the word 'Vote'.
He looks cute?
His hair is a lot shorter than when I last saw him only a couple of days ago. Cut back down to a short length that makes sense with the time period, he lets it hang beautifully in front of his eyes.
Bidding my goodbyes quietly to the point where neither one of them actually hears, I slip out of the trailer door just as Harry starts to undress himself ready for his first fitting.
Walking all the way through the school of trailers, I start to let my mind wander into a spiral of self destructive thoughts.
My skin itches but the more that I think about getting high and having that relief, the more sick that I start to feel with myself.
Loving Jonathan was hard. It was difficult and it was a stupid decision on my part that now I feel like I am bound to. I was high when I met him because that's all I ever seem to be these days.
High and drunk and not thinking straight.
I remember that I had just heard about Harry dating someone new and I forced my friends to come to the club with me. A bunch of other actors were there as well as a couple of executives; directors, producers and such.
Jon was one of them.
For a while after we met, I thought that maybe this could actually be so something but every single day that I spend with him, I feel him rob another part of me and now I feel hollow.
But this is what I do, this is what I am now known for in the industry and in the media.
I'm a flight risk.
I run when things get difficult and while I was once convinced that I could and would make this work, now I am not so sure that I even want to try.
Jonathan promised me the world but not once has he ever done something to prove it.
Coming to the edge of the parking lot, I scan the sea of cars for one in particular but once I see it missing, I shake my head in utter defeat and let it tip back to the sky.
I should have seen this coming.
Groaning, I trudge my way back to the trailer with my tail between my legs and a deep hatred starting to bubble in my stomach for the man that for some reason I call my boyfriend.
Knocking on the door before I enter, I hear Harry call out a reply that tells me I can come in.
Because of this, his eyes are already transfixed on the doorway when I push it open with a sheepish expression.
"Arls?"
I grimace but I don't correct him.
"He um–" Swallowing my own words like a bitter pill, I can't meet Harry's eyes just yet. "He left me here and I- I don't have a way to get home..."
Asking for help, from Harry of all people, is mortifying. Normally, I would have phoned Priya but she is with Cleo somewhere and she already sacrifices so much for me. I can't interrupt their day together.
"...c-could you maybe..."
"Yes, I can give you a ride." Harry puts the puzzle pieces together and puts me out of my misery before I even have to choke my way through the rest of the question. "I might be a while though?"
Looking at Kate for approval, he silently asks her.
"About an hour, maybe a little more," Kate adds.
I nod, creeping over to the couch. "Take your time, I might have a nap. I was up early so–"
"Okay, Trouble." He softly hums as I get myself comfortable and rest my head against my bent arm and settle down.
I have trouble getting to sleep most nights, I struggle to switch off my mind and relax enough to feel safe and comfortable to sleep. When I sleep beside Jon, I spend most of the night tossing and turning restlessly until I get so frustrated with myself that I end up sneaking downstairs and sitting beside the pool with my feet dipped into the cold water and my eyes tipped back to the stars.
But clearly, that isn't the case here because the next thing I know someone is shaking my shoulder ever so lightly.
"Hey?"
I feel a silky strand of hair that has fallen in front of my eyes get swept back and hooked behind my ear.
"Arls?" Harry's voice is smooth as he whispers lowly to try and gently wake me up. "Good sleep?"
I roll slightly, stretching my limbs as I flutter my eyes open and try to blink away the thick blanket of the first deep sleep that I have experienced in a long time.
Blindly nodding, I blink again and try to stand up while grabbing my stuff which I toss onto my shoulders and glance around the room.
It is empty and dark.
"Where is Kate?" I question, my voice hoarse due to the sleep.
I can hear the gentleness in Harry's voice as I turn back to him to see that he is now wearing a bobbly white hoodie that looks as if it has seen better days.
"Oh, she left about three hours ago..."
"Three hours ago?" My eyes widen as I compute what he is saying. "What?"
"I had to work on something for some new music and you were sleeping so I thought I would just let you nap for longer." He explains, walking towards the trailer door and motioning for me to follow him. "You looked really peaceful so I felt bad for trying to wake you up and I was writing–"
"Writing?" I question, following just a step or two behind him as we get closer to the parking lot.
He nods, brushing his hand through his hair.
"A song?"
He shakes his head with a serious expression. "No, a speech."
"A speech?"
Breaking, the corners of his eyes crinkle shut as he brightly smiles at me while chewing on the corner of his lip so he doesn't erupt in a laugh. Patting his pockets for his set of car keys, he smirks before answering.
"I'm kidding. Yes, Arls, I was writing a song."
Opening his car door, he waits until I round to the other side and open mine before he even attempts to climb in the driver's seat.
"About what?"
Slamming his door shut, I copy him and await his answer as he speeds out of the space and out of the parking lot.
He doesn't reply for a while which makes me sit on the edge of my seat with my knees pointed towards the door and not turned in towards him.
Just as his hands reach up to turn the dial of the radio he turns to me after checking the road is clear.
"It will probably be on my next album so if you listen to this one you can find out."
I hum in reply and try to fight off the smile. "Maybe I will,"
When he cranks up the stereo in the car, I smile because of how much I love the song that is playing.
December, 1963 by Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons.
We listen to it, neither one talking through the song until it comes to an end and Harry once again reaches to turn the volume down.
"Have you eaten yet?" He questions, indicating off the highway and into a complex that has a square of different fast food places.
I shake my head at the same that he glances away from the road and to my face.
"Why not? Arls, it's like nearly eleven now?"
"Arlie," I correct softly. "And I don't know. Jon didn't want me to eat before the fitting and then I guess I just forgot about it,"
Harry presses his lips into a flat line before making a small humming noise that rattles through my bones with the truth of how fucked up that sounds.
"What?" I question, secretly hoping that he was going to say something honest.
He smiles tightly at me, slowing down the car.
"I'm not saying anything, Arls."
"Arlie," I mutter, still staring at the side of his face. "And by saying you're not saying something, you are in fact saying a whole lot."
He grins at me, turning his head with a wide smile that almost knocks me off guard.
"Harry–"
"Okay, okay!" Taking both hands off the wheel, he lifts them around his head in mock surrender. "Pick somewhere?"
"What?"
He nods towards the chains of fast food that are scattered around. Lowering his hands slowly, he places them on his lap and fiddles with the rings hugging his fingers almost as if he was nervous.
"Pick somewhere to eat. You need to eat something before I drop you off at him. Even if it is only something small."
I blink, feeling something fizzling inside of me as I chew on the inside of my cheek and decide what I fancy.
"Mmm..." I hum, trying not to appear like I am so hungry that my stomach is going to start eating me from the inside out. "I kind of fancy In 'N' Out but I'm not supposed to be eating fried–"
"Do you want it?" He cuts me off with the blunt question.
I nod, silently.
"Okay, so we are having In 'N' Out then, Arls. If you want to eat something, you eat it, okay?"
I nod.
As he pulls the car into drive again and sets off at a crawling speed towards the drive-thru, my mind starts to race with the idea of being seen in a car with Harry.
I know how the media works, I know that all it takes is for one person to spot us and snap a picture and then run to whatever tabloid offers them the most money and before you know it, your face is plastered on the front of every magazine.
Holding my breath, I feel my knee bounce with a little more anxiety than I was used to.
Harry turns to me, leaning back into his seat so that I can order my food through the window and then he adds his order to the end. With an abundance of please and thank yous and polite courtesies, we swing around the rest of the drive-thru, pay and then collect our food.
Harry refused my card to pay and even brushed my hand away when I tried to argue with him.
"So..." He mumbles after chewing on a fry and swallowing thickly.
We had parked up in a far corner of the parking lot. Our respective trays of food are on our laps as we sit in silence and eat.
"So?" I repeat feeling the palpable tension that hangs thick in the air and makes it feel like it is hard to breathe in the confined space.
"Tell me something," He asks vaguely.
With a small confused laugh, I frown and readjust my grip on my burger. "What?"
"Something new, something I wouldn't know. Tell me something that I wouldn't know about you. You keep saying that you've changed. Tell me something about the new Arlie Addams."
I cringe when I hear the pompous way he projects my voice like interviewers and news reporters do. The emphasis he adds to it makes me feel inhuman and I know it isn't his fault. If he knew the way I despised it, he would never say it like that.
But I am Arlie Addams.
Arls died a while ago and now I am Arlie fucking Addams.
The biggest actresses in Hollywood right now... at least according to a million and one magazines.
When I realise I don't know what to tell him, I frown a little and drop my burger back into the greaseproof paper pouch that it comes in.
"I um–"
Harry sits patiently, slowly chewing on his fries as he waits for me to talk first. As you would expect that the tension in the car would be thick but weirdly it also feels really calm and relaxed which is part of the reason that I am so thrown off right now.
The two of us are such a juxtaposition in every way of life. I suppose that is why we never worked out before.
Harry was quiet tempered and relaxed in every passage of life, meanwhile, I am hot tempered and a little too confident for my own good at times.
Harry is polite and would never be rude to someone. Everyone has his utmost respect at all times whereas I think respect is something that someone can lose at any time. I grant everyone respect but if I don't receive that energy back; I can and will be a bitch.
Harry wears his heart on his sleeve, he is sensitive and is able to show his emotions. I hide mine and bury them deep down inside.
I get that nobody truly understands me but I can't change now.
The fundamental difference between us is that Harry Styles is a good person and Arlie Addams is not.
That's why we never worked.
"Umm... I don't–" I stop myself, knowing that there has to be some small and somewhat interesting thing about him that he doesn't already know about me. Something new and shiny. "I got a tattoo?"
His eyebrows raise as he turns to me with his mouth half full which he quickly covers with his hand while he talks. "Really? What of?"
Reaching for my phone, I scroll all the way up through my camera roll to try and find the picture I took of my tattoo when I first got it done.
"Here..." I hand my phone to him and let him see the small, fine-line tattoo of a broken heart.
In two separate pieces, the parts of the heart are jagged and broken but still trying to fit together despite being unable to glue.
"A broken heart?" He looks up at me from the picture before zooming in on it again. "What, is this you saying you're a little heartbreaker?"
I purse my lips, trying to fight off the smile.
He has a way of easing uncomfortable moments and sprinkling hints of humour into conversations that should be difficult.
"You gonna break my heart, Arls?"
Flinching, I look down at my lap and the food that I am slowly picking at with my bright orange nails. My smile has completely faded as I ask, "Didn't I already do that?"
He stops, immediately handing my phone back to me. "We don't need to talk about this now,"
I swallow before clearing my throat again. "I broke your heart and you broke mine. We broke each other's."
"Arlie–" Despite correcting him a million times, I can deny the sting that I feel when he says my full name and not the shortened version that he loves to coin me with so often.
"You and I–" I stumble over my own words, the sentence feeling weightier than it ought to as I struggle to align my thoughts. I don't even know why I am doing this now. "We were never going to work out, you know?"
He swallows, lifting up the cardboard carton of undoubtedly cold fries and places it on the dashboard out of reach before turning towards me.
"How do you know that?"
"Because..." I sigh.
He stares at me, waiting for an answer but because of his immense kindness, the pressure doesn't feel like pressure. It feels like pleading or begging.
"I loved you... so much..." I tell him honestly.
For a brief second, I can see the glint of something hopeful spark in his eyes until I take a deep breath and continue.
"I loved you so much, Harry. More than anything, more than I loved myself. You and Pri, you were... you were my people."
He winces, most likely at the choice of words. The past tense being solidified that we barely know each other now.
"But–"
"But?" He urges in a whisper.
"But, I loved you so much that even when I felt myself slipping. When I started to lose myself and when I- fuck..." I cough out a choke that is from the scratchy feeling in my throat.
Even though this happened nearly four years ago, I don't talk about this part of my life and so it feels very, very fresh.
"-When I became an addict, I thought it was fine because I had you and Pri. Everything was going to be fine because I had you and Pri..."
"Arls–"
"Arlie," I correct softly with a sad smile. "Arls died the day I went into that rehab clinic."
He shakes his head. "I should have-" I watch as a tear brims in his eye. "I should have spoken to you about it before. Priya and I– we thought that we were doing what was best for you..."
I nodded, understanding this. I've had four years to deal with and come to terms with why they did what they did. Why I was taken to that place and why I was left there.
That was never the issue.
I know I needed help and I couldn't do that alone.
The issue was how it happened.
The issue was how I thought it was going to happen.
The issue was the lying.
"I know," I tell him, feeling the closest I have felt to seeing the unguarded Harry in a while. "I know you did and it was what was best for me..."
I speak so slowly out of fear that my voice will abruptly break and the floodgates will open.
"I just. I loved you two so much and I thought everything was fine as long as you were there and then..."
Looking down at his lap, Harry mumbles to finish my sentence with sorrow. "...Then I wasn't there anymore."
I nod. "Then you weren't there anymore,"
"Arlie, I am so, so sorry for how that all went down. If I could take it back, I would."
I nod, feeling like I should be comforting him more than myself right now but even so, I twine my arms around my middle and hug myself so hard to keep all of the shattered pieces of my being together in one piece.
"I know."
His green eyes, flooded with worry and sympathy flicker between mine before he nods his head and slowly rolls his lips in on themselves before biting down on his lip to keep whatever feelings inside of him.
He looks like he is about to cry.
"I can't..." I mumble. "I can't be around you so ummm-" I swallow, quickly wiping under my eyes and the moisture that might have accidentally leaked through my composure. "-can we just have a professional relationship? Can you stay away from me until we have to do scenes or press or whatever, please?"
The question kills him inside, I can see that much as his shoulders sag with hurt and his face drops a minuscule amount.
"Can you do that for me, please, H?"
He nods with a small yet incredibly destroyed smile. "Calling me H isn't helping, Arls."
I part my lips to speak. To correct him but I needn't have bothered.
"Sorry... Arlie."
Tossing his food into a bag, he shakes his head and starts to fire up the engine of the car to drop me back at home.
"We are going to be fine right, you and me? We are going to be alright?"
I nod, letting the corner of my lip curl up ever so slightly.
"We'll be a fine line, right?"
He smiles at me but I know it isn't genuine. Harry smiles with his eyes and this didn't meet the brightness of his glowing eyes.
"You really are going to break my heart, Heartbreaker."
Humming, I repeat his words.
"Heartbreaker..."
what song do we think he was writing? one from Harry's house obvi
kisses, el <3