CHELSEA
My phone rang, making me slowly make my way across the living room to pick it up. It was Harry, who had said he'd be home an hour and a half ago.
"Hello?" I said dryly.
"Um... Hey, Chelsea."
"I thought you'd be home," I said, sighing and sinking into the couch.
"Sorry, the interviews are running really late." I could practically hear him lying.
"Right. What actually happened?"
"Nothing! Just... someone showed up late... so yeah. I'll be home soon."
"Whatever, Harry." I rolled my eyes as I disconnected, returning to Sherlock. Either he could tell me himself, or I could find out. Once you knew him, anyone could read him like a book. I hadn't been sitting for more than a few minutes when the doorbell rang. Niall was there, holding his guitar.
"I'm bored, will you entertain me?" he said, as I held the door open with a frown.
"Sure. When did your interviews end?"
"Um, at 5:00. I thought Harry told you?"
"Yeah, he sure did," I mumbled, as we flopped down on the couch.
"Where is he anyways?"
"Don't know." Niall seemed to sense something was wrong, but didn't say anymore about it. "So is there anything in mind you wanna do?" I asked, tucking my legs under me.
"Nah, I don't mind just chillin here if you're okay with it." I nodded and turned the T.V off, watching Niall while he tuned his guitar, and strummed randomly. The music seemed to drift in and out of my ears, my mind wondering what Harry was actually doing. Was he cheating on me? Even I didn't believe that. I guess my silent, somber mood created a lot of tension in the air.
"I gotta go," Niall said, looking at his watch. "It's almost nine, I have to get up early tomorrow." He waved as he left, leaving the apartment quiet and far too empty. Harry finally stumbled in at half to ten.
"Harry?" I said. He was obviously drunk.
"Chelsea... I... I'm... I went..." I ran his hands over his face. "I can't lie to you... I went to go see... But I can't tell you... Or... Leave... You'll leave..." I sighed and made him sit on the couch. Throwing a blanket at him, I left to go to bed.
"Sleep Harry, we'll talk later, when you're not drunk."
"Chelsea. But... I'm sorry... I... And Michelle..." He frowned and his head dropped to the armrest. Michelle? His ex? As hard as it was, I didn't jump to any conclusions, and crawled under the covers. It was empty having a king sized bed to myself, something that never bothered me until I met Harry. I could hear the faint ticking from the wall clock in the hallway keeping me awake. I heard soft footsteps and the creaking of our bedroom door.
"Chelsea?" Harry whispered. He sounded more sober now. "Can I... Can I come sleep with you?" I didn't know what to say. "I'm really sorry."
"Sorry is what you said yesterday. It doesn't mean anything if you don't change." I heard him sigh shakily.
"I can't sleep, Chelsea."
"That's too bad, isn't it?" He came and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Please don't be mad." I didn't reply, just turned over. "I love you." He stalked out of the room silently, and guilt crept up on me. I did eventually fall into a fitful sleep, waking up early with a headache. I groaned, throwing on gym shorts and a sweater, and shuffling quietly to the kitchen. I made a cup of strong black coffee, sipping at it while I searched for breakfast. I settled on a blueberry yogurt parfait and a slice of toast.
"Chelsea?" Harry said, sitting across from me. He was already dressed for work, and startled fiddling with his hands, checking his watch.
"You wanna explain what happened yesterday?"
"I... Yeah, but I'm going to be late..." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Can we talk when I get back?"
"Sure. We can talk when you're back tonight. Maybe we'll do it at midnight since you're always late, or maybe you'll be drunk again tonight. Who knows, we might even do it over the phone since you might not even be home tonight Harry," I spat sarcastically.
"Well it's not my fault, I have to work don't I? I can't just... not be there!"
"You would be there by now if you hadn't spent last night partying with your ex, Harry!" His eyes widened.
"My... Who?" His eyes widened nervously.
"Just... go, okay?" I left my food and grabbed my coffee. "Don't you have work to do? Maybe when you're done, you'll go bang Michelle," I sneered venomously. I slammed the bedroom door and locked it, hopping into the shower. The steam rose up, hot water making my skin red. I stayed in there until I couldn't stand the heat before getting out. Harry was gone.
I don't know what I expected, maybe he'd stay and try to make things right? But I knew he wouldn't blow off work like that. With nothing else to do, I crawled back into bed to try and sleep away the day. It worked, to some extent. The next time I woke up, it was 12:37, and I was starving. I ordered a large pizza and curled up on the couch, just waiting for Harry to get home, hopefully sober today. The time ticked by slowly, but soon 7:00 rolled around, and there was still no sign of him. There were no texts or phone calls. I had dinner and washed the dishes, and he still wasn't home. There was no way he was still at work either, as it was almost approaching 10:00. Finally, I heard the door open and close quietly. Harry hung up his jacket and kicked his shoes off, before flopping down on the couch. I could smell alcohol on him, even though he didn't look flat out drunk today.
"Hey," he said, getting up and leaning in for a kiss. I pushed him back and scoffed.
"You have got to be kidding me Harry!" I was already running on a short fuse from festering all day.
"What? I can't get a kiss?"
"No, not until you explain what you've been doing! You've been sneaking around behind my back, probably with Michelle, and going out!"
"So I can't even go out now," he drawled sarcastically, making me even more mad.
"You can, but it wouldn't hurt to call me!"
"Why? Do you need to know where I am all the time?"
"I do if you're going out with your ex, Harry!" I yelled exasperatedly, pulling at my hair.
"No, you really fucking don't! You need to stop being so clingy!" he yelled, getting dangerously close. I was getting scared, but my pride was too big, and so I yelled back.
"Are you cheating on me or not!"
"No! But maybe I should've!"
"Then why the fuck didn't you!?"
"I have no idea, because you are just being a stupid, uptight, controlling bitch!" He grabbed my shoulders and shoved my backwards, making me trip over a cord. I twisted to the side and landed on my wrist with a sickening crack. Tears welled up in my eyes immediately, as I grit my teeth. The adrenaline running through my veins numbed the pain. Harry was standing still, eyes wide and slowly stepping back. I cradled my wrist, trying to keep it flat and still.
"Fuck you," I growled, pushing past him and ignoring the gentle brush of his fingers on my shoulder.
"Chelsea..." His words were strangled and choked up. "I..." The rest was cut off by me slamming the door.
***
HARRY
And with the slam of the door, I felt my heart break into a million pieces. I had hurt her... I had actually, physically laid hands on her. I was a monster. Sinking to my knees, I clawed at myself, somehow making my way into the shower. All I wanted to do was wash away the pain and the memories, the disgust at myself. But it wasn't working, it was as if there were bugs crawling over my skin. I stumbled out leaving puddles on the floor, feeling the cold air sting as I shivered. I hit her. I pushed her. I had turned into one of the men who had disgusted me all my life. I hurt her. And suddenly, I couldn't breathe anymore, the air was thick and heavy. I clutched at my lungs, trying to get a breath, but it wasn't working. Leaning against a wall for support, I sunk to the ground.
The last time that happened, Chelsea was with me. She helped me, she held me, but now there was no one here. I was all alone. I caught my breath a few minutes later, shivering. I wrapped a towel around me and dried off, before getting dressed. My suitcase was already packed, ready for my departure tomorrow afternoon. The plane ticket looked awfully tempting. Grabbing a few pieces from the washroom, I finished packing and shrugged on a jacket. I rolled my suitcase out to my car and raced to the airport, where I got a ticket for the next flight. I needed to get away from her, before I hurt her more. I made my way quickly past groups of fans, not stopping for any pictures until I was safely on a plane to Columbia. I should have been with Chelsea, but she wanted nothing to do with me. I knew she would find Niall, or maybe Liam, and they'd take good care of her. Better than me.
"Sir? The flight has landed," a hostess said, gently shaking my shoulder. I looked around in a daze. How could I have slept for that long? I grabbed my bag and my beanie, stepping off the plane into the bright, warm sunlight. It was gorgeous. The airport was empty so it was fairly easy to catch a cab to the hotel without grabbing any attention from fans or media. The room was nice, like always, and I unpacked my stuff slowly, keeping my mind off Chelsea as much as I could. It hurt too much to think about her. Sadly, everything had to come to an end, and soon I had hours of time left on my hands with nothing to do. My hotel room was impeccably clean, even though I would have to pack everything up again tomorrow. I watched three episodes of Desperate Housewives on T.V, and got a drink taken up to my room. But now it was empty, and thoughts floated into my mind. Images of what I had done, floated in and out, refusing to leave. And the guilt was unbearable. I was choking on it, drowning on it, and there was no dry land in sight.
This was a bit short and the ending was terribly dramatic, but oh well. Oh and the P.O.V's might be messed up for the rest of the chapters... Please vote and comment if you enjoyed it!
Next chapter will be on Monday, September 2nd. (Ew school)