Harry's POV
"You did what?" Liam repeats, taking an appalled step back.
"With Kendall? Really?" Louis follows.
"Are yeh serious?" Niall shakes his head.
I clench my jaw, their comments aren't helping shit. "Look, you don't understand, I was trying to get Kendall off me– You know it doesn't even matter now!" I shout in the small area of the private bar space. "I overreacted, I know it's my damn fault, now let me go out to find my girlfriend!"
"Sophia is looking for her–"
"But she needs me," I protest, trying to break from the trap they want to hold me back from. I know what I just did, but I can help, I need to try and help somehow. I just want to talk to my girlfriend. How fucking hard does that have to be?
"Why did you freak out in the first place?" Louis asks.
"What?"
"You said you overreacted, so why did you?"
I sigh, looking down for a bit before looking back up to Niall, "I saw you two."
"Fuckin' hell, not'ing happened I swear. We were jus' havin' a chat, she wished me happy birt'day. Neit'er of us would do that to you!" Niall gets defensive.
"I realize," I respond sternly, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Now where is she?"
I see Liam looking down at his phone with an anxious look, hesitantly glancing up at me before looking back down.
"Tell me."
"Harry, I can't," he shakes his head.
"Liam, she needs me right now before she does something irrational. I need to be there."
"She doesn't want you to know, mate!"
I stand in his face, "Rachel needs me! Fuck, she could decide stop eating, or hurt herself again. I told you guys she used to self-harm. Just let me go."
"Alright! Soph is taking her home."
"Could they still be here?"
"Don't think so, she told me that almost ten minutes ago."
As soon as the words leave his mouth I'm in my car, driving right back to Hampstead, knowing full well she went to her cousins and not back to my place, which would probably be our place, if I didn't fuck up so often.
"Where is she?" I question immediately as Hayley opens the front door when I arrive.
"In her room, Sophia is talking to her," she tells me as I rush in, seeing Jennifer standing in the living room in their dark house and hearing Sophia's faint voice coming from Rachel's room.
"This is not how I imagined their night, nor how we would meet Sophia," I hear Hayley whisper to Jen from behind as I try to listen to Sophia.
"How did she seem when she came in?" I turn to them, and they jump back a little as if I nearly scared them.
Jennifer speaks, "Just quiet really, she looked a little distorted, maybe confused. Sophia gave us a small explanation and just took Rachel to her room. They've just been here five minutes–"
"We knew you we're on your way. How could you do that to her?" Hayley finishes.
"You don't understand, I didn't do anything—" my voice begins to get louder and I stop myself before whispering, "Kendall was pushing herself on me, I was telling her to buzz off when Rachel came over. She thinks I was cheating or summat." I can't help but rub my forehead. I hope Sophia is setting things straight.
"Damn, you think she'd take a hint. Kendall's getting on my nerves," Jen growls.
"Tell me about it," I remark just as Sophia steps out from Rachel's room, closing the door, before coming out to to join the three of us.
"She knows what happened," she tells me.
"You told her that I didn't—"
"I told her everything."
"And?"
"She stayed quiet, but I know she was listening. I'm going to take off so you can talk to her," she places her hand gently to my shoulder before addressing the girls. "It was wonderful to meet you girls, thanks for letting me bring her in."
"N-No problem, thanks for taking her here safely," Hayley tells her and the two twins smile.
"Thank you," I say to her sincerely before I turn for Rachel's room and the twins let Sophia out.
When open the door to Rachel's room, it's very dark, and only faint light from the streetlights outside shine dimly on her body that lies on her bed. She's on her side, and as I walk around slowly to meet her face, I find her staring blankly at the wall in a creepy manner.
She's still wearing the beautiful dress that she was unsure about wearing tonight, looking stunning no matter the smudged makeup on her face and her ruffled hair.
"Baby?"
Her eyes stay staring straight at the wall, almost as if she was compelled by it. She doesn't even move when I sit near her feet on the bed.
"Let me just explain."
"No, Harry." Her head shakes a little, yet her blue eyes still won't meet mine.
"But, I can clear things up... it wasn't what it looked like."
"Sophia told me."
"Yeah, but—"
"Stop. Just..." Rachel presses both hands to her face in agitation before meeting my eyes. "I'm going to be an adult here. I don't want to fight you and go through the same loophole over the same thing again. It's not worth it."
The bitterness in her tone seems about right, but the words she's saying stun me. She cannot be okay.
"I'm not okay with what I saw," she reads my mind, clarifying. "That.. that hurt me. I don't even believe it's really what I saw... I..."
"I was trying to push her away. She's the one who..Rach, I—"
"That's what Sophia told me. I get that you did that, you can say it a million times, but it still hurts my heart," her tone has changed from angry to emotional and I see her wiping her eyes.
"I know. You don't understand how sorry I am. I never want to hurt you."
As soon as I gently place my hand to her leg, to rub it in a soothing manner, she speaks up. "I want space."
My hand freezes.
"Space?"
When I look up to meet her eyes, I see she's back looking at the wall again, arms crossed. I would take her yelling at me than the way she's acting now.
"Yes, space. I just want some time to cool off. It's like I can't think right with you around," she gestures with her hands, "and I don't want to get angrier or something if you're around," she answers, and though the words hurt me, I can tell she's being truthful.
"I'm worried about you, like, relapsing... I don't want to leave you.."
"It'll be fine, but I can't properly look at you now— it's just been so long of a night, you need to leave me be."
But I don't want to leave, I'm worried she'll give up on us, or make cuts her arms. I just want to always have her in my arms. I hurt her and this can't be how to make it right.
"Please don't make me leave just yet. We were supposed to have a good night, let me give us that at least. Just please let me stay the night, I want to hold you," I sound panicky, and honestly I don't even care. I am panicking. She could have this space, and figure out how much of a piece of shit I am, then want to end us. She could seriously chose to harm herself, and she's been clean for months now. She could chose to stop eating.
I hate to think that she's not strong enough, because she is. Rachel is one of the strongest people I've ever met. But when the person you trust the most fucks up, what can you do?
I'm scrambling, scrambling for something out of her. Some notion that she doesn't want to give us up.
I scoot up on the bed, and let my fingers slide on the sides of her face, my thumb running over a trail of a tear.
"Just let me spend this night with you," I plea, the look in my eye displaying my neediness. She looks at me for a second as my eyes begin to grow glossy before quickly looking back to the wall. "We can forget tonight, forget what's to come."
Rachel keeps her steady gaze at the wall, and I can see in her watery eyes that her mind must be racing. After a moment, as soon as she gives me a curt nod, my lips press against hers in a needy kiss.
I feel like I'm kissing her harshly, just wishing her to kiss me back as she stays a bit frozen and hesitant. I wrap my arms around her in hopes she'll join me, and I'm relieved when she lets her impulse take over, so much so that when I pull away to breathe, she pushes me down to lie on the bed, climbing on top of me with her knees on either side.
Rachel's chest heaves up and down, her face flushed as she grabs the back of my neck to pull me to her.
"I'm all yours," I whisper in the dark silence.
* * *
Rachel's POV
My head is pounding when wake up. I turn over, staring at the beautiful, tattooed, naked man next to me, my body under his arm. Memories of the late hours of the night before flood my mind in pieces. The way he held me, kissed me, and told me countless times that he loves me race through my thoughts.
He breathes in his loud way I've become accustomed to, his eyes fluttering every so often in his sleep. In all, he looks peaceful, aside from his brows a bit furrowed. His hair covers the pillow, sprawled all over the white sheet of it. The dimness of the sunlight through my window of the early morning shines on our bodies, and if this were a regular morning, I'd kiss him and snuggle right back with him to sleep in this Sunday.
But it isn't a regular morning. Our hours of love last night were a momentary lapse. I need space regardless of how passionate last night was.
Carefully, I slide from under his arm, lucky not to wake him as I take my comforter that fell to the ground and wrap it around my body as I make my way to my bathroom.
As I get ready hastily, I can't help but think how he'll feel waking up alone in my room. Will he chase me, or respect my need for space? Will he feel how alone I felt yesterday?
Looking in the mirror, I get a sudden feeling of dejá vu from last night. I shake my head, certain my hangover must be lingering.
Once I'm dressed presentable enough, I sneak out of my room, grabbing my phone. The house is eerily quiet when I leave, and I choose to shut everything out when I put in my headphones. Before I put on my music, I decide with impulse to call Harry, and knowing he won't hear his phone, leave him a voicemail.
I need space.
As the rings go by, I walk the route to the café, with hopes Matthew will let me work today even though I'm not scheduled. He's used to my stress working habit by now.
When the beep goes off, I take a deep breath before I leave the message.
*BEEP*
"H– Harry... hi. Look, about last night.. it was a good way to pause things. It did not resolve what happened. Sex is not just something you can use to patch things up and call it fixed like it is in the books or movies. It's unrealistic. After last night, nothing... nothing has changed. I still need a break from the high life. I can't... I really am having a hard time with this, Harry. I feel like I'm always being watched and when this stuff happens I just— I don't know how much of it I can go through. Living a life like yours is easier said than done. How a man like you does it, I don't know. I don't want to end you and I, because despite the lows of our relationship, I love you, but I can't right now. I just can't do this now. So just give me at least a week. One week to be the normal college student that tries to get ends meat by working at a coffee shop, who quits my dance class because of school, not because of the stressful side effects of my relationship, and who doesn't have to worry about who's watching me or what some model bitch has to say about me to the public because I'm reaching the boiling point, and I have to cool. I love you, and if you do love me, let me have some space?—"
Right as the message cuts me off, I near the café. I think I've said all I need to say, and now I can only hope that he listens.
* * *
"Alright kids, pencils down, your twenty minutes are up," Mr. Porter announces.
The class all stops writing our assignment and we meet his gaze as he walks to stand in front of the class to continue talking.
"I've finally graded your big papers, your midterm papers, so as I call you up you hand me your journals and I'll pass over your essays."
As Mr. Porter calls us up by names, my nerves make me anxious, knowing now that Mr. Porter knows I've written about abuse.
"Ms. Rachel," he calls for me. I rise from my seat and look over to Matthew as he gives me a cheeky thumbs up.
I walk to my smiling professor and he hands me my essay and takes my notebook from me.
"Very, very well done," he chimes, and I feel my face flush with embarrassment as I thank him and return to my seat. Matthew is called next and I turn my paper around to see I made an A on the assignment with some marks that read: Very proud of you, I had no idea. I understand now. If you need to talk to someone, I'm here.
As Matthew and I leave when class ends, he bugs me to know what I wrote about and made.
"C'mon, I told you I got marked with an A, I won't judge your grade! I just wanna know, you've neglected to tell me and I'm dying over here," he whines.
"Yes and I am needing to make it to my English course right now. What a conundrum we've hit," I tease.
"You're rude," he rolls his eyes.
"And you're very pushy," I clap back, trying to hold in my smile.
We begin to walk our separate ways since I know he has his accounting class in about thirty minutes, and my English course starts in ten. He calls after me, "Hey, we hanging out again tonight? I mean, I know I've come over every night this week but—"
"If I didn't say yes, Jennifer would kill me. We can head to our place together?"
"Yeah, I'll drive you and I there and we'll meet Jen and Hayley at yours. I'll see you around one!" He waves.
"Alright!"
I venture through the busy campus on my way to the English building, the walk only but minutes from my Creative Writing course. This whole week I've lived a way that I haven't. I feel like a college student, and I've turned it around. I dropped my dance class, something I was greatly passionate about, but knowing that this space I'm taking is temporary, it's not something I can quite do. Ms. Wendy, my instructor, rudely let me go, but I don't care. When life happens, it's not always under your control.
Matty and I have hung out all week, going to school, working, and spending the evenings at my place so he can spend time with Jennifer. The two of them have really hit it off, and I'm happy for them. I thought since it was Friday night they would go out, but I really enjoy spending time with him since I really haven't in the past, and after all he's my best friend.
No one has asked me about Harry or talked to me about it, but I know they're all concerned. Even Matthew has neglected to ask why my boyfriend is not the one taking me home from school and why he is instead, or why I'm spending more time at my cousins' place and not at Harry's. I think Jennifer said something to him, I really do, which is okay. If he asked me, I don't even know where I'd begin to explain.
Harry has been calling and messaging my cousins, every day, just to check up on me. It's something he's done before. The gesture is something I appreciate, since he's respected my wish of space. It's nice to know someone cares for you so much that they just need to know you're alright.
As much as I have been distracting myself this week, he has been on my mind. I miss him. What happened at that party isn't necessarily my problem now as much as just needing a break from the media's eye, and I just wish I could go back with him and ignore that detail, but that detail is bigger than anything.
I focus on my school work, Friday luckily isn't my busiest day, so when the last class ends I begin to make my way over to the lot that Matthew parks at to meet him at the car. When I get there though, I see a familiar looking Range Rover close to Matthew's prius and I stop.
Harry looks up from his phone, taking a double take when he notices me before getting out of the car.
He's dressed in a very chill way, it appears he's left the gym before coming here with his hair tightly done in a bun. He approaches me slowly but with a smile.
"Hey, you."
"Hi," I tighten the grip on my books in my hands, holding them close to my chest. It's been so long since I've heard his voice.
"You look.. you look good. Happy. And very cute," he takes a step closer.
"And you look sweaty, and I'm digging the socks with sandals," I try to lighten the awkward mood.
He chuckles, rubbing his hand to his neck. His bright green eyes give me a once over before meeting mine.
"I've missed you," we both say in unison.
After a moment of silence he blurts, "Come back to me, to my place. It should be our place. You don't realize how much living alone sucks when you're hit with it."
His words strike me, and I feel overwhelmed with sadness when I think about how he used to live all alone, and how that must feel. Having that back this week means he did in fact feel how I did.
"You made me understand by having us take a break. I get it now, I understand how you feel."
"You do?"
"Yes, it was hard. I did a lot of writing, and I had to keep myself out of the house, so I've been practically living at the gym to distract myself. Your cousins tell me how good you're doing, and you look..."
"Refreshed."
He nods slightly, sticking his hands in the pocket of his hoodie as he looks down. That is how I feel. As much as I've hated this space, I feel refreshed and like I am starting a new with many of the different aspects of my life. A few seconds pass of us standing before he looks back at me.
"I'm not asking for much, I just want you back in my life, for us to talk like normal people and live together. We don't need to be intimate or anything, that's not what I mean by this, but I miss seeing you everyday. When I wake up, staring at an empty side next to me doesn't make me want to get out of bed."
His slow talking and pained expression makes me want to jump into his arms and kiss him and beg him to take me home. His home. Our home.
"I've been the same way," I instead reply with honesty.
"So, will you please just come back to me? We don't need to go out this weekend together, I'll do whatever you want. I'll sleep on the couch or something, but I can't not see you anymore."
The desperation in his eyes makes me nod, and I know I can make this work. We will get back to normalcy eventually. I love him, he loves me, and when love is real, it conquers. I know, because I've experienced life when love wasn't real, and where that ended up.
Harry takes me to his and through the weekend we live in a calm and a little silent way. He was going to sleep on the couch but I told him that he doesn't need to. We lay in bed, not too close but not too far, and both of us are mutually relieved, and I finally get the sleep I haven't gotten in a week. Harry and I eat our meals together, as the past couple of days have passed we have been getting slightly closer, but he and I both tread on water. He goes to the gym for hours while I work on assignments, and he writes when I'm busy as well. We haven't kissed, hugged, or touched in a week, and now I understand the studies that say a human needs up to 10 meaningful touches a day to assist in well being, because on the inside, neither of us is doing as good since we're acting like strangers.
It's now Sunday night and I'm taking a shower before bed. Every day I've felt exhausted for no reason, and I still do.
I hear something behind me and when I turn around I notice through the foggy glass of the shower door that Harry is in the bathroom.
"Oh, I thought I was getting in the shower, I'm sorry," he avoids eye contact.
"No, it's okay, I should've told you while you were cleaning up dinner, I'm sorry," I respond, pushing my wet hair away from my face.
He's moving toward the door to leave me privacy when my mouth works before my mind does and blurts, "You can join me, if you want to."
His body freezes. "Really?"
I nod, and that's all it takes for him to undress and come in with me, thanking me before giving me space and not getting too close as I let him have a go under the water. Once he's soaking wet, he emerges from under the water and looks at me, squinting in the dim fog.
And suddenly, while we stare at each other under the pouring hot water, I can't take it anymore. I want more. I want more than just accidental brushing of our arms or our knees accidentally touching when we'd sit on the couch. I want to taste his lips, his neck, his cheek, and just everything. I want to run my hands through his hair and feel that electricity ignite in me to make me feel alive again. I want him back in my life and never to let him go.
"Kiss me," he whispers, which is all I need to kiss him with every fiber in my body. Instantly I feel more alive, ten times happier, stronger, and at home.