It wasn't easy to stay in my room now.
I sat on the bed and averted my gaze from the closed window, my chest and throat twisting. Every corner of my room was painted with Harry's memories and it was driving me insane.
I didn't know if I could survive this.
I stared at my phone. A part of me was itching to call Harry, but the other part....the huge part of me, would rather keep my pride and choke on it. I had the right to be like this, right? He did me dirty. If he wouldn't apologize, or try to fix this mess, so be it.
A burning ball clogged my throat. It was easy to say so be it, but just thinking about putting an end to our relationship was splintering me in half.
A knock on my door surfaced. I quickly glanced at the mirror, making sure my face wasn't screaming tears and misery.
"Come in," I said, grabbing the pillow near me to hug it tight.
Dirk went in, carefully closing the door behind him. He was in an all black outfit and a sleek leather jacket, carrying a guitar.
"Welcome back," he said cheerfully, walking towards me. He gave me a tight hug before sitting next to me. "How are you?" he asked, staring at me intently.
I forced a smile. "Grand." I looked at his guitar. "Is that yours?"
He nodded and placed it beside him. "Bought this last week. I got my own drum set now as well, but I didn't take them home. I left it in Gale's apartment since we always practice there."
"Gale?" I asked, my brows furrowed.
"Our vocalist. You saw him once. Remember our gig at the beach?"
"Oh. Yeah," I said, though I couldn't exactly remember his face. "Is he your classmate?"
"Nah. He's a senior." He opened the guitar's case and put the brown acoustic guitar on his lap. "I've been writing songs."
"Really?" I asked, intrigued. "I never knew about that."
"I'm new in songwriting. Just decided to try it, and well, I think I'm kinda good with lyrics. My chords are mostly simple, but the band helps. They know what to add to make the songs more edgy." He removed his jacket, and the first thing I saw was his arm.
"So that's the tattoo Zayn told me about," I said, eyeing Dave Grohl's face that was inked on Dirk's upper arm. Not gonna lie, it really looked cool.
Dirk stared at me, one of his brows shot up. "You still talk to Zayn?"
"He called me a few nights ago," I replied, still checking out his ink.
Dirk snickered, then shook his head slowly. "I will never understand him."
"Who?"
"Zayn."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Women are literally throwing themselves to him and giving him their numbers, but you're still the one he calls. Man, will he ever get over you?"
"He only called to check on me, Dirk. Nothing more."
"It's still a call. It means he thinks of you and he's concerned if you're doing fine. He did that even if he knew it can make Harry mad. Speaking of him, where's Harry? Is he with you?"
Sadness overtook me after hearing Harry's name. I had to swallow hard just to stop myself from crying again.
"Ah, fuck," Dirk muttered, his gaze fixed on my face. "What did he do to you? Should I hire a sniper already?"
An unexpected chuckle escaped from my mouth. "A sniper, huh?"
He smiled, but it faded fast and his expression grew more serious. "What happened between you and Harry?"
I bit my lip and shrugged. "We just...just realized that we're not meant for each other. Things are...complicated."
Dirk sighed softly. "Every relationship is complicated in their own way, I guess. Like what they always say, love is a battlefield. You have to fight for it everyday if you really want it."
I gave him an amused look. "Wow. Since when did you become that deep?"
He just flashed a cheeky smirk. "Blame Zayn. His depth is infectious. I swear that guy is like a walking philosophy book."
That made me laugh. I spent a night with Zayn and I had a glimpse of how deep he could be. "You've been spending a lot of time with him lately, huh?"
"He's really cool. Even Mom likes him. He's like a brother to me now."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "So I'm not your favorite sibling anymore?"
"You were never my favorite to begin with."
I hit his arm with my lightly closed fist, earning a whimper from him.
"That hurts!" Dirk exclaimed, rubbing his arm. "Mom! Jay punched me!"
I stuck my tongue out and rolled my eyes. "Oh, shut up. I just patted your arm."
The door swung open, revealing our mother.
"Mom, Jay hit me," Dirk said, faking a miserable face like a child.
But Mom didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes were fixed on me, and I could tell that something serious happened. Even Dirk sensed it.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Dirk asked, getting up from bed. "Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?"
Mom quickly shook her head. "I'm okay." Then she glanced at me. "Harry is downstairs."
My pulse leaped. My chest began to race, and a mixture of unexplainable emotions consumed me.
He's here.
He came to see me.
I should be happy or touched, but a haze of possibilities and questions clouded my consciousness. Was he here to explain himself? Would I hear another bunch of gut-wrenching revelations?
Dirk turned to me. "I can tell him to fuck off if you want."
"No," I muttered, leaving the bed. "I need to talk to him."
"Are you sure you're ready to face him?" Dirk asked, concerned. "You don't have to force yourself."
"I'm okay. Harry and I have a lot to talk about."
Mom placed an arm around Dirk's shoulders, encouraging him to let it go. She gazed at me. "Go. We'll stay here upstairs so you two can talk in private."
I gave them a smile and headed out of the room with sweating hands and pounding chest. I saw Harry on the couch, sitting there and fidgeting the rings around his fingers.
His head shot up and our eyes met. Shock froze me when I saw his face, particularly the dark circles under his eyes. He looked like hell.
Well, we're both stuck in the pits of hell, so this shouldn't be surprising.
I shoved away a handful of tangled hair from my face, then swallowed repeatedly to find my voice.
"What are you doing here?" I finally asked, my voice shaking. I crossed my arms on my chest and remained standing near him.
He gave me a wounded look, and I had to avert my sight from him or I would lose myself in his eyes again.
"Ange-
"Don't," I said sternly, cutting him fast. God knows how fast I would melt once I hear him calling me that again.
And I had to be a stone right now. I really had to.
Harry's jaw worked up and down. It took him a minute to speak again.
"Jade," he said, his pleading eyes focused on me. "Let's talk. Please."
I sat on the chair across him, hugging myself with my arms. "Is this the part where you're gonna explain to me that you lied because you only wanted to protect my feelings? Or are you gonna apologize first for letting another girl suck you inside your car?" I asked, my stomach coiling and my chest hammering.
He brought his sight to his fingers on his lap. When he glanced up at me again, his eyes were blurry with tears.
"I'm so sorry, Jade. I really am. I don't expect you to forgive me, but please just hear me out."
I tore my gaze from him and stared at the window. "I'm listening," I muttered. Despite the cruel pain that was waiting for me around the corner to crash me more, I still wanted to hear his side.
For a moment, all I heard was silence, but I didn't look at Harry. I waited for him to talk.
"What Hunter said was true," he finally said, almost whispering. "Two months after the wedding, Mel learned that she was pregnant. We were....ecstatic when we found out."
Pain pierced me deeply when I remembered how relieved he was after finding out that I wasn't pregnant.
"I was really excited," Harry continued. "That time, I never cared about the kind of life I had. I was thinking, I can still be a great dad despite the wrong things I do. Mel was convinced that we'll have a baby girl, so she started to call her Beth. The doll that you saw, it belonged to Mel. She had this obsession with small dolls. The day before we found out that she was pregnant, she bought that doll and added it to her collection."
He paused, and I could see him staring at me from the corner of my eyes. I forced myself to not look at him.
"We lost Beth after the first trimester. 14 weeks. They said late miscarriages is very rare and only affects one to two percent of pregnancies. Life decided to throw it to me and Mel, on the day we're supposed to celebrate our first wedding anniversary."
I was still mad at Harry, but I felt sorry for him. However, I didn't let my emotions rule this time. I stayed quiet and refused to comfort him even if I could hear his voice breaking.
"It was hard for us, especially for Mel," he said, the tremble in his voice clearer. "She blamed herself for it. She started to become distant. I guess her drug use started after her miscarriage. She was in so much pain, and she needed something that can take it away. I was heartbroken too, so I chose to drown myself with work. I closed deals here and there, got new big clients and managed the auto shop. I was always busy because that was my way of healing. I got too focused on my own healing that I didn't pay enough attention to how Mel was coping with our loss. I thought she just needed time. That we both needed time and things would be okay again. Until she died."
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply to lessen the striking ache in my chest.
"Losing both of them was...a total nightmare. A nightmare that still haunts me until now. I already accepted Mel's fate even before I met you, but with Beth...I don't know. I remember her every day. I see her in Maddie, I see her in every child I bump to."
I gulped and licked my lips. "Was that the reason why you were so drunk at Hunter's party? Because of Beth?"
He nodded.
"I get your pain. I really do. But that's not an excuse to hurt me further. Harry, you lied to me. And you messed up with another woman because you're drunk as hell. You have no idea how much you hurt me."
He leaned forward and reached for my hand, gripping it tight. "Jade, I'm so sorry. I was about to go home that night, I swear. But Linda followed me to my car and she-
"I don't want to hear that part," I told him, finally looking at him in the eye. "Are you done? Or do you have any other secrets? Are you gonna stab me again with more truth? Or you'll keep them hidden under your sleeves and kill me with them again when the right time comes?"
His face went stoic. A tear fell from his right eye, but I guess I was too hurt to care for his tears.
"If you have nothing else to say, please leave," I said, rising from the chair.
Harry stood up fast and caught my wrist. "I have no other secrets. I'm totally naked in front of you right now. Please believe me. Jade, please go home with me. I'm begging you."
My mouth was left open for a few seconds. I was stunned with what he said. "You want me to go home with you?" I blurted in disbelief, yanking my hand away from his grip. "After all you've done? After hiding huge parts of you from me? Harry, a home is a place where you can find peace. And I never found it in New York. I never found it with you."
He stepped closer, grabbing my other hand. "Angel, please. I need you."
Tears fell from my tired eyes as I refused to surrender to his touch. "I need myself, too, Harry. I'm sorry but I can't do this anymore. I'm so fucking tired. I'm physically, emotionally and mentally drained. I just...I just need to be away from you. I need to think about myself this time. I'm utterly lost. Because of you."
His hands slowly slipped away from my fingers.
And that little gesture of letting me go sent a burning pain in my chest.
"You said you'll be my light," he murmured, his wounded eyes adding tons of weight to my already heavy heart.
I closed my eyes for a moment to calm my tears, but I failed miserably. I looked at him, my sight watery that I couldn't almost see his face.
"How could I give you light if I already lost it? How could I give you something I don't have?"
He remained quiet, though his gaze spoke to me. Guilt, sadness, and regret were there.
"Let's fix this, please," Harry pleaded softly. "I don't want this to be over. I don't want us to be over. I can't lose you. I love you."
I shook my head. "Love doesn't lie, cheat or make you feel unsecured. Love eases worries, it doesn't create worries. Now ask yourself, Harry. Do you really love me, or you just love being with me because I'm your reminder that despite all your shit, you can still have good things in life? Because frankly, I feel like the answer is the latter. You only love my company. You love the idea that someone stuck with you in spite of all your mess. You love the idea of someone accepting every dark corner of you. But you don't really love me. Because if you do, we won't have this conversation right now."
"Jade, I fucking love you and you fucking know that." He took a step forward, poised to touch me again, maybe pull me into a hug and beg for forgiveness.
I can't...I can't fucking do this.
"Harry, please!" I blurted out, stunning us both. "Just leave me alone!"
He looked at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly, shoving both of his hands inside his jeans' pockets. "Alright. If that's what you want." He bowed his head and headed to the door, carefully closing it behind him.
My knees completely gave in. I found myself kneeling on the floor, crying out the tears I still surprisingly had. The burning pain and tears were choking me, like shards of glass were being forced down my throat.
Someone make the pain stop. Please.
***
When I was six, I sprained my ankle while learning how to ride the bike. I cried so much that snot even went out of my nose, along with my tears.
That moment, I thought that was the worst pain a person could encounter.
I was wrong. So wrong.
A sprained ankle, a broken bone, or a wounded flesh would only hurt for a few minutes. Or hours. Sometimes, a day.
But a broken heart? God. It would hurt for days. Weeks. Months.
Maybe for years.
What sucked was, you never knew how to lessen it. With physical pain, you knew exactly what you should do. Aching muscles? Give them a massage. Wounded knee? Wash and treat it with betadine and cover it with bandaid.
But when your heart was broken, you wouldn't know how you could fix it again. There was no medicine for it, and it's so freaking unfair.
All those claims that ice cream, chocolates, and movies would help you heal were all bunch of filthy lies. Whoever started those beliefs deserved a hard punch in the throat.
My heavy eyes landed on my bedroom's carpeted floor, where my luggage was scattered. Five days ago, Alex came in our house with them. I asked him to get my things from Harry's apartment because I didn't want to step in there again.
It had been a week and a half since my last encounter with Harry. A week and a half sounded long enough to heal, but nah. Truth was, the pain seemed to worsen every single day.
I didn't leave the house. I only left my room to eat lunch and dinner, and it was only because of my mother. She would be worried sick if I wouldn't eat.
Yesterday, I tried to go outside, but tears formed in my eyes when I saw the house where Harry used to live.
Marty and Leslie tried to drag me out, but I just couldn't do it. Zayn had been sending me text messages, even called me, but I didn't pick up my phone.
I just wanted to be alone.
"Jay. Are you up?" My mom's gentle voice echoed from the closed door.
I lifted my head from my knees. "Yes, Mom."
"Can I come in?"
I sat properly and tried to fix my unruly hair with my fingers. "Sure."
The door opened gently. Mom went in, her eyes flitting briefly to the mess of clothes and luggage on the floor.
She didn't say anything about it. She brought her eyes to me and smiled. "Morning, babe."
"Morning, Mom," I muttered, hoping my smile didn't look forced.
She sat on the edge of the bed. "I made brownies. Do you want me to send some here?"
"It's fine. I'll just go downstairs in a bit." I looked at the flyer in her hands. "What is that?"
Mom glanced down at her hand, then gave me the flyer. "Zayn was here minutes ago. His gallery will have a major exhibit this coming weekend, and he invited us."
I studied the flyer. It was obvious that Zayn designed it, I could tell because of the doodles.
"Wow." That was all I could say. I gave the flyer back to my Mom.
"The painting is downstairs," she said.
"What painting?"
"Zayn's painting of you. He took it with him earlier and left it downstairs."
"Oh," I murmured, nodding, guilt gripping me. I suddenly remembered how unfair I used to be to him.
Was this the kind of pain I gave him before? Did he also experience these shitty and hellish feelings?
Maybe this was karma's way of kicking my ass.
I deserved it. I gave Zayn false hopes before. Made him believe he had a chance. I wasn't completely honest with him.
And now look at me. Look at what Harry did to me. The universe had an odd sense of humor.
Mom touched my hand. "How are you feeling?"
I gave her a weak smile. "I'll be lying if I say I'm better."
Her face softened with understanding. She inched closer and pulled me to a hug, my head resting on her shoulder.
"Everything will be alright," Mom whispered, rubbing my back. "It will take time, but it'll be alright. Don't force yourself to get over it quickly. Follow your heart's pace."
I just nodded and hugged her back.
"I'm just here for you," Mom continued. "And your brother. And your friends. We all care for you, Jay. We love you."
I closed my eyes. I wanted to believe that everything would be okay, but right now, I couldn't see the end of the tunnel. Everything was dark, and I didn't know if I could still get out of here.
***
A/N
We are a bit close to the end, guys. I want to hear your thoughts. How do you think will this story end?
Also, I have a quick question. If I will write another Harry fic, are you guys going to read it? Even if I will pair him with someone who hasn't been shipped with him before? I mean, the story will be really cute and relatable, so the woman I'm gonna choose is not really a concern, right? 😊
Thanks for reading, voting and commenting. I love you all. 😘
All the love 😘
Be kind to each other