Emma
Have you ever fucked something up so totally and so completely that everything you do thereafter is just a long list of never ending catastrophes? To be in a place of such self loathing that you would literally do anything to turn back time and do everything in your life differently.
And I mean everything.
Honestly, at this point I wish I was a different Emma from a different family. A girl who never knew Harry Styles. A girl who fell in love with a different man, a man who is actually the person she needed him to be. A girl who led a simple life. A girl who didn't get hurt by her father, who didn't have a weak and jittery mother, who didn't sleep around during her teens, who didn't feel the way I feel, who didn't fear all the things I do... where's that girl?
I want to be that girl.
Not the girl who just broke up with her boyfriend before walking in on him sleeping with her nemesis and then flying across oceans to get away from him.
This is a new all time low and in the current state I'm in, I can't forget to mention utterly uncomfortable.
I feel this massive weight on top of me the moment I regain consciousness.
Oh god. I feel dirty.
Last night was not what I expected.
Once I got off the plane I knew it had been a massive mistake. Even as I lay here staring at the ceiling I can't get what happened out of my head.
God I was so stupid.
I can still feel the aftershocks of it mingling on my body. Flashes of last night tightening its grip on my heart as goosebumps blossom on the surface of my skin.
Hoping for a distraction, I begrudgingly look around for my phone and find on the bedside table. I haven't gotten one text or call from Harry, not that I expected to, we're over, but it's' still a little disappointing.
No Emma, don't go there. Harry's not worth it.
On the other hand, it seems as if Lina has been texting me non stop. I don't think she went to sleep after dropping me off at the airport only a few hours ago. I sweep through the long list of texts but I don't answer any of them.
I'm not ready.
Growing too hot with the closeness, I shove the dense body off my stomach so I can get out of the small bed.
He groans as I shift him. I know I should but I don't really care. It's his own fault, he said it wouldn't end up like this.
"Emma, let me sleep..." he grumbles as he rolls over, burying his head deep into his pillow.
"Yeah well you said you were going to sleep on the couch." I snap, swing my legs over the side of the bed. Immediately the cool air hits my bare legs and I shiver, wishing I had more than a pair of small shorts and a loose t-shirt on.
"S'uncomfortable" he argues back and I leave it at that knowing it's no use, not that I need to have a fully fledged conversation right now. I can't argue anyway. If one of us has a right to sleep wherever they please then it's definitely Niall.
It's apartment after all.
I walk out his room, closing the door behind me and finally take a real look at the place. It's very open, spacious for being on top of the bar and impossibly clean for being a guy's flat.
Sure there are things out of place and there is the odd piece of laundry draped over furniture but it's not like there are empty beer bottles left on the table and crisp crumbs on the rug. It's clean and rather lovely.
I never really noticed before but Niall does really well for himself. The bar seems to be always packed not to mention that he owns his own business with his brother. And those are the only things I got to know last night when I got to the pub.
Maybe in another world he and I could have been something more but that could never happen. He's too sweet and he's a great friend. Plus he doesn't have any romantic interest in me, thank goodness. And if there was any doubt the drool stain left on my shirt where his head was resting on my tummy is evidence enough that we are purely platonic.
Yes it's silly, I haven't known him for that long but when I was trying to figure out where to run away to last night all I could think about was him and the sweet comfort of his bar.
And no not in the stupid mushy, romantic way you might be thinking. Niall is stable and lighthearted, I need a little more of that in my life at the moment and Niall fits the bill perfectly.
I pad over the couch and wrap myself in the blanket I find there. It's weird being here, especially given all the expectations I had for this morning.
In my perfect scenario, I had pictured this morning being a lot like it had been Christmas morning. Harry and I would wake up tangled up in each other, warm and at home and we'd make love until we were completely exhausted and just fall asleep before waking up a few hours later and doing it all over again.
This morning was supposed to be like that. I was supposed to be wrapped up in my newly open love for Harry not in some thin blanket in a friends flat miles and miles away.
Swiftly I find the coffee and start making myself a cup. There is so much to process from the past 24 hours that I need a little pick me up and since Niall refused to serve me any alcohol last night, I'm in desperate need now.
He was relentless on that front, actually. Pissed me the fuck off but it was coming from a caring place so I guess I can't complain.
No, I'm still pissed.
When I barged my way into his pub last night, bags in hand, I could tell instantly that he knew something was up. It hasn't been long since I had my little emotional episode during the winter holiday, I doubt he expected to see me here so soon.
Like I always do I sat down and demanded a drink. He refused. I asked again and again, he said no again and again. Well Niall's exact words were actually, "Ohhhh no, I'm not letting you do this again."
There is a portion of me that wished he didn't care and just let me drink. All I wanted was to drown myself in as many drinks as I could handle after what I did on the plane. I felt guilty and used and dirty and I just wanted to forget.
I still do.
Not that I should have felt that way, or still feel that way, not like Harry deserves it but I couldn't stop my feelings.
Still can't get over it.
It was obvious that I needed a drink and wish I could say Niall helped me out eventually by allowing me a few drinks but last night he was everything but agreeable.
"Niall come on! Just give it to me." I asked reaching for my glass that he was pulling away from me with a sly and knowing smirk.
"No no no," he said shaking his head at me, far to pleased that he had all the power. "I don't want your boyfriend coming round here and beating me to a pulp this time around. Not happening."
I cringed at the mere mention of him, the sight of Harry and Jessica in bed together the only thing I could think about in that moment.
During the short plane ride last night, I let my anger bubble up and allowed the questions come flooding in. I wish they didn't. I wish I could have stopped them but I couldn't.
How dare he fuck Jessica, how dare he fuck anyone so soon after we broke up.
So I got back at him. It was the only way I could see myself feeling better.
I just had to decide. Do I spend the whole flight wallowing and crying over some guy who broke my heart and viciously tore it to shreds or do I fool around with the handsome stranger in the plane restroom.
I'm ashamed to say I chose the latter.
Sam was a sweet guy. He didn't ask questions, he didn't ask for more, we just lived in the moment and it was just what I needed.
I still have his handkerchief, a parting gift I guess. A momento of our short time together.
Don't know if I'll ever see him again nor do I really want to. I know it's incredibly blunt but he served his purpose, nothing more needed.
At the beginning of this whole running away stint it certainly wasn't my intent to do anything with anyone, especially so soon after breaking things off with Harry, but the opportunity presented itself and I couldn't resist.
It all went down so seamlessly, as if someone had perfectly scripted the scene between the two of us.
Barely any words were said between us.
At one point during the flight Sam was walking down the aisle, gave me a slight wink and a subtle nod and I was sold and followed him.
It was quick. It was meaningless. That was it.
Right now I feel dirty.
But why should I huh?
Why should I feel guilty for doing something that is well within my rights as a newly single woman in the 21st century? I don't have a boyfriend anymore. I don't have people holding me back. I don't have anyone to go home to.
It's just me now and if I want to have sex with a random stranger in semi-public space then I will.
Harry who? You know what I'm saying?
Yet the guilt still sweeps over me, even now as I wait for my coffee to brew, and it was the same reason I ended up begging Niall for just one more drink.
I didn't want to explain why so I chose to try and be intimidating last night. That didn't work either.
"No," he stood his ground sliding a glass toward me. "I'm doing this for your own good Emma. Now sit and drink you water."
"But–"
"No Emma. You can sit there all you want but I'm not going to let you get as bad as last time. It isn't healthy for you and it isn't fair to Harry."
And there it was again.
My heart lurched in my throat, my mouth went dry, and my hands got all sweaty. It was a hot mess of emotional physical reactions and Niall only uttered his bloody name. On top of that I was incredibly annoyed and suddenly overly sad, I couldn't stop the next words that tumbled out of my mouth.
"Well I guess it's a good thing he isn't part of the equation anymore." I tried to keep them as a mumble, not ready to admit that Harry dumped me not 24 hours ago, but it didn't work.
"Excuse me." He asked, very alarmed to learn this new information.
"It's nothing." I try to brush off what I had said to no avail, instinctively taking the cup and bringing it to my lips.
"Oh come on. It's obviously something because you are actually drinking your water... so spill."
I sigh. The conviction in his voice telling me he will be hard to shake off. Mindlessly I twist my fingers together around my chilled glass and go for the simplest answer. "Harry and I had a huge fight and we broke up. Simple."
"No it's not, especially considering the last time you were here you were sobbing over him" Niall scoffed.
"I wouldn't say I was sobbing." I argue but he gives me a knowing look and I know I have lost.
Thankfully he didn't push me after that but he still didn't give me a drink. For the rest of the night I sat there, observing the people around me. Nothing extraordinary happened. I helped Niall close the pub and then we ended up here, in his flat.
Last night I couldn't admit anything to him.
Couldn't admit that I felt like I was dying from the inside. Couldn't admit that I stupidly left behind every little detail of what made me the emotional nutcase I am today. Couldn't admit the horror I felt that because of this, Harry now has the real power to destroy me. Couldn't admit that Harry had already done a good job of that. Couldn't admit the weight on my chest that has yet to lift. Couldn't admit that his deep green eyes are the only thing I see when I shut my eyes. Couldn't admit that it's taking every ounce of my power not to go rushing back to him to fight for us.
In the cold light of day, I still can't cop to any of it.
I hug my hands around the large mug, now filled with steaming coffee, and soak up the small sense of relief that washes over me as a result.
This doesn't, however, rid my thoughts of how this morning was supposed to go.
It was supposed to be blissful. Harry, at this point, would know everything and I will have finally vocalized how much I truly feel for him. That I'm in love with him.
The facts haven't changed but the two people who are involved have.
I'm fully aware that I'm a hard arse, I've been told numerous times by the people closest to me, it's no secret. But how silly could I have been to believe that someone like Harry could actually fall for someone like me.
In hindsight it's obvious.
How could he really know he loved me when he didn't really know me?
That was my fault, of course. I never let him in, at least I didn't before the bomb that was our relationship went off.
I prop my legs up on the coffee table and sigh, peering down into the dark liquid before I take one excruciatingly scolding gulp of liquid.
Slowly I'm getting my feeling back. Last night I was entirely numb. Even when I was trying to forget everything when I was with Sam it didn't really do anything for me.
Once I saw Harry and Jessica in bed together all my senses deadened, the only thing I could feel in the moment was my heart pounding in my bloody chest.
Why couldn't I just let things be? Why did I have to go to Harry's? Why did I think I could fix anything between us?
Harry and I are so passed the point of no return at this point that even the thought for a remedy is a fruitless task.
I just feel so empty, so breathless. Harry is out there somewhere with Jessica, being happy, moving on. Then here I am sat in Niall's apartment after running away like a witless schoolgirl.
Maybe I should just go back.
Coming here was a rash decision. I don't make rash decisions. Once I got my life together everything has been planned, prepared for, so I never had to worry about the unknown. You know things like someone walking into my house drunk and ultimately sending me to the hospital or my once boyfriend calling me a slutty whore before walking away yet again.
Yes, I'm still a little sensitive on both fronts.
However, while there is a part of me that believes going back might be best there is a greater part of me that thinks I need to run farther away. Coming here to Ireland was predictable, an obvious move by a woman scorned.
It's not the most mature way of coping but as a result I do feel this incredible lightness. It's a fraction of what I need to feel better but it's something. It's as if the farther I get away from Oxford, from Harry, from what happened at Liam's, more of my fears and worries get taken away.
Each doubt or memory swooshed aside by the cool winds as I venture further out into the abyss that is my new single and Harry-less life.
I want more of that feeling so I need to go farther.
But there are very few places I can actually afford.
Yes, I did spontaneously buy a plane ticket home but I wasn't entirely breaking the bank flying to Ireland was I? It's traveling anywhere else that's the problem and it's not like I can afford much else on such short notice and I want to leave now.
I refuse to destroy my credit and deplete my savings on this little emotionally driven escapade.
I just want an escape route. To go to a place so far removed from my normal life that I barely remember what's happened. Barely remember who I really am.
Then the lightbulb goes off.
Of course... I mutter to myself.
I don't know why I didn't think of this before.
As quietly as I can, abandon my mug on the coffee table and walk back into Niall's bedroom and tip toe around until I've found my bag.
Within minutes I'm fully dressed, I leave a note on his counter saying I'll be back in a few hours, and I head out into the chilly air.
This might be an incredibly bitchy move but the adrenaline that is coursing through my veins at the mere thought of doing this has got me bypassing any guilting feeling I may have, thankfully.
Plus Harry cheated on me so I should be able to do this.
Luckily the trip to mum's house isn't as long as I remembered it. I tip the cabbie and saunter up the front door as quickly and as gracefully as I can trying to get out of the rain that's started to pour.
After grabbing the spare key that's hidden and letting myself in I take the few steps into the front hall. The house seems empty.
I have no idea why I left it here. After everything happened here during Christmas my brain was a bunch of marbles. I just left it behind.
Relentlessly I run upstairs and find no one up here either. At least something in my life is working. I can be in and out of here and no one will notice.
I rummage through my desk, certain that it must be here. It just has to be. I remember vividly how annoyed I was when Harry and I got back to school and I realized that I had left it behind. In the past few weeks I had planned on asking mum to send it to me but I never got around to it.
Given the circumstances I guess I'm happy I never asked.
Finally I find it hidden under the random do-dads and knick knacks that I'll probably never use again and whose only use is to cover my important things it seems.
"Emmy!!" I hear the little one shriek before I can turn around and realize someone is there. I jump ten feet into the air as a result.
My heart immediately starts pounding only for it to start calming down when I turn around and see a very happy Lucas standing at my door.
"Lucas, you gave me a heart attack bud." I breath out before he jumps into my arms and I have no choice but to catch him. In the few short weeks since I was here for Christmas he's grown, the heavy weight in my arms evidence of that.
"Emmy! What are you doing here? You said you weren't coming back for a long time Emmy but I'm so happy. Sara has been so annoying recently. Trying to tell me what to do and stuff. Won't even let me chose cartoons, even when it's my turn to pick."
Little Lucas is talking lightning quick, there is no point of trying to get a word in edgewise. He's still the little ball of energy, buzzing in my hold, speaking a mile a minute. I'm listening I swear but it's not until I hear his name that I truly understand what he's saying.
"Is Harry with you? Please tell me he came. I miss him. Is Harry here?"
All I can do is shake my head at him as I watch his face fall.
Slowly I put him back down and he grabs my hand, pulling me out the door. "Come on Emmy, mummy is making a snack."
Well I guess my plan to be in and out unnoticed is out the window.
As we get closer to the kitchen I begin to hear my mum's voice mixed with the subtle crinkle of her carrier bags. I'm dreading this confrontation, absolutely dreading it.
"Mummy, look you I found!" Lucas' excited voice booms through the kitchen and causes mum to turn on her heel to face us.
I don't know if it's the look on my face or her mother's intuition but her face immediately falls when her eyes meet mine. There is sorrow and empathy in her eyes. Two emotions I wish weren't there.
Luckily she doesn't let it slip in front of Lucas, Sara nowhere to be found. "Hi honey," her tone laced with an air of surprise. "Were we expecting you sweet?"
I shake my head at her as I watch Lucas skurry to her side and grab the bag of cookies that's on the counter. "Lucas eat your sandwich first please, it's on the table." He listens to her.
"No, just a quick visit. I'm staying with a friend in town."
"Oh? What friend?" She inquires.
"No one you'd know. I won't be here long, sorry to just barge in on your guys."
"Emma, you're my first child and this is your home. You could never barge in sweetheart."
"Sorry, that was just so ridiculous of me." I remark sarcastically only to get the stink eye from my mum. "Sorry" I mutter.
"So what brings you back so soon sweetheart?" She asks sincerely.
What can I possibly say to her? Oh mum... well Harry and I broke up, I caught him sleeping with someone else, and so I ran away like a little girl.
Yeah can't say that.
I missed you guys... she won't believe that.
"Just needed to get away for a bit. Schools getting a little crazy." The words are strained and lies. I swear she notices but she doesn't let on.
"Okay." Before she can question me further a slightly distressed sounding Sara calls for her from somewhere within the house leaving me alone with Lucas in the kitchen. I sit next to him and start munching on some of the crisps off his plate.
"Why isn't Harry here?" He looks up at me with hopeful eyes.
"Lucas, I told you before." I try to divert the conversation but my four year old brother isn't having it. Swear, sometimes he acts decades older than his age.
"No you didn't Emmy."
I release a sigh. "Harry is really busy right now." But busy with what? Slutty fucking Jessica.
"But he said he'd come visit."
"I know he did." I can't help my sad tone as I pick at my fingers. I have no idea why I'm so nervous. It's just Lucas.
"Why are you sad Emmy?" He asks looking back and forth between my eyes.
"I'm not sad."
"Yes you are." And suddenly Lucas seems annoyed with me. Jeez he's a moody little lad.
"No, Lucas I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No! I'm not."
Oh christ, I'm arguing with a four year old.
And then he goes quiet, puts his sandwich down and balls his little hands into fists. Something's bubbling up inside him and I have no idea what it is.
"I hate him." His face hot with anger.
"Who?"
"Harry. I hate him so much Emmy. I hate him."
He's getting very worked up and completely out of the blue. I watch in surprised aw as he bumps his fists on the table before bringing his hands up to rub his face.
I leaning closer to him and start rubbing up and down his back, trying to sooth him. Mum's told me he can get really worked up sometimes but I've never seen him get this way before. I have no idea what to do in this situation.
"Lucas, are you alright?"
"I hate Harry!" He yells all of a sudden and instinctively I pull him in for a hug. Thankfully he relents and wraps his arms around my neck.
"Lucas it's alright. You need to calm down."
And then the unthinkable happens and I have no idea what to do. I cry all the damn time these days but dealing with someone else's tears, I have no idea how to handle them.
"He said he wouldn't hurt you Emmy." He mumbles into my neck and my heart breaks for him.
Harry can hurt me all he wants but now he's gone and hurt little Lucas and I could wring his bloody neck. I swear, if he was here there would be no end to my wrath.
I am aware that I'm not the most sentimental human being. I don't hug people when I first meet them and I don't have a great interest in most people's personal problems but when it comes to my little brother and sister I'd maul even Harry perfect face to protect them.
Gradually Lucas' breathing evens out and the tears cease and suddenly his body is slack against mine. He's fast asleep.
Careful not to wake him I stand and make my way to his room, place him on his bed, and plant a quick kiss on his forehead before I turn to leave. Of course, I find mum at the door looking way to proud.
"What mum?" I whisper at her and bring her out to the hall.
"You're really good with him." I roll my eyes and head down stairs.
"He's my brother, it's really nothing."
"It isn't nothing. You were really tender and patient. I know that's not easy for you so I just want you to know that I'm proud of you."
I don't respond to her kind words knowing that I'll just make the whole thing awkward or sound hostile.
Back in the kitchen I get a bottle of water from fridge and take a seat. Mum follows suit.
"Was Lucas right? Did Harry hurt you?"
Do I lie? What good would that do? It would only hurt me and give Harry a sort of easy pass.
"Yes."
"You don't want to elaborate?"
I slowly shake my head. "Nope, not really."
"You know you can talk to me."
"Yes mum, I know that but this mother daughter talk stuff is not really my thing. All you need to know is Harry is out of the picture. Yes it hurts but I can handle it. You don't need to worry."
Mum doesn't looked very convinced. The silence between us is very thick and growing more awkward by the moment.
"What was wrong with Sara earlier?"
"Oh you know, Lucas and her are going through a bit of a rough patch. They are both getting so big so quickly, I think they need some space."
"Well you can move one of them into my room if it helps."
"I don't want to take your room away from you Emma, I want you to know you have a place here... always."
"Mum I know but it makes no sense for those two to be stuck in a room together when my room sits empty down the hall. Please do it. I'll just bunk with Sara when I visit."
It's not as if I'll be needing any privacy when I visit now. The only reason I'd need some would be because I had Harry with me but that's not going to happen is it?
When I look back over to my mum I see tears glisten on the rim of her eyelids.
Oh god.
"Mum please don't turn this into something."
"I'm just..." she hiccups, full of emotion. "You've turned into such a strong, intelligent, lovely young women. I'm so proud of you."
And without missing a beat she's wrapping me in a tight hug. For the second time today I have a member of my family crying on my shoulder.
How did this even happen.
"You know I agree with him." She mutters, pulling back and wiping her face.
""Agree with who?"
"Lucas." She says sternly. "I hate Harry. Don't know what he did but I hate him all the same." And I can't help but chuckle at her words.
"A little over the top don't you think?" She smiles.
"Perhaps, but if Harry is silly enough to let you slip through his fingers than he's at least as qualities that I could hate."
Well I won't argue with that.
After a quick cup of tea and some easy chitchat, mum and Steve are discussing buying the little ones a dog, I head back to Niall's.
Luckily Steve didn't come home while I was there. Really didn't want to have to explain my sudden appearance to anyone else.
Should I really do this?
I know it's ridiculous and childish and rude and downright silly but I want to so...
He buzzes me up to his flat and when I enter he's in the kitchen, rummaging around the cabinat under the sink.
"Hey Emma, glad you're back. I think we should–"
But I don't let him continue, don't want to lose my nerve. Being a tad melodramatic I pull out the envelope Harry gave me for Christmas and hold it up in the air and offer him a soft and unsure smile.
"You want to go on a tropical vacation with me?"
___
A/N: Our first glimpse at what Emma's been up to.
I'm a little on the fence with this chapter but it gets the ball rolling which I'm happy about. Hope you enjoy it.
Also wanted to say a special thank you to @Newlars90 for recommending Intent to her followers. I was very touched and needed to share it.
Also can't forget to say thank you for all the comments and votes on Intent 2: Fight or Flight. This time around I'm going to really try to respond to all your comments. I love reading what you have to say and especially talking with you guys!
VOTE + COMMENT
All the love, C.