CHAPTER 36
CLAIRE
When Michael and I meet the cold air outside of the grey building, oxygen fills my lungs for the first time since I can remember. My face relaxes, soaking up the calm night sounds of the city.
I feel calm, collected and... fine. The moment I stepped out of the building, my foot locking onto the concrete ground, these last two weeks became distant. Like I was able to look at it a little more clearer.
I will hate myself forever for hurting Harry, causing the pain I saw engraving in his eyes once I said that last sentence to him. Did I mean it? I don't know.
I know Harry doesn't deserve to hear that I don't understand how I ever fell in love with him. But I am certain, it was the only way for him to let me leave. When I looked into his eyes, I saw the intense desperation, the craving, the lust for me. And it hurts me to think he doesn't see that in mine.
My heart is still pumping with rage, as I look over at Michael, as his nose is stuffed with tissue-paper, small pebbles of blood drying on his nose columns. My hands clench into fists and I shudder with anger when I think of it. I am furious with Harry.
Still, I do realize that it had to take a lot for Harry to do that. What he said about Michael pushing him, I think is true. But that doesn't matter to me. Harry still should never had hit him.
Harry doesn't deserve to be with someone who doesn't love him. He deserves much better, and I can't be the person he so desperately wants me to be. He deserves someone who will love him like he needs to be loved. As do I.
Was I harsh? Yes. Very. And to see his spirit weaken from my words... It wears heavy on me, and I don't think that will ever go away. But as terrible as it sounds, it was necessary. He wouldn't have let me go without me saying those words to him.
And I need him to let me go.
I am convinced that I was happy with him once. Wildly happy, I believe. Why else would I leave my life in England, my brother, my best-friend, my parents? I had to be so in love with him. And that will always be a part of me, but I can't be happy with him now.
Do I wish I would remember? A part of me does. I would imagine that having my memories would make this so much easier. But now, most of of me is just relieved that I'm out of the apartment. I can finally breathe again.
I close my eyes for a second, and think of the kiss we shared a few days ago. When he finally poured every feeling and every emotion he felt, into the air. But that wasn't why I kissed him.
I kissed him in a final, desperate attempt on remembering it all. And I kept my lips on his for quite some time, clenching my eyes together and hoping with everything in me that I would remember him and my feelings for him. Even though I didn't, I have to admit...
I could see a shimmer in his eyes that were familiar. Loving, strong, yet vulnerable eyes. Those are the kind of eyes I want to look into the rest of my life, and there is only one person I know who has that shimmer in their eyes whenever they look into mine...
I look back at the lobby and at the elevator, and it feels like pebbles are grinding in my stomach. I know he is up there, gasping for air. And I want more than anything to make that stop, to make him fall out of love with me. I want him to be okay without me.
I hug Michael, digging my face into his neck.
"I'm so sorry," I say.
Even though Michael pushed him, he never deserved a punch to the face. He didn't deserve to be put in a life-threatening situation and he doesn't deserve to be blamed so heavily for so many things. He is leaving in the morning, and I'm beginning to truly understand that. There is nothing here for him.
There used to be, and it was me. He wanted to stay here with me through my recovery, but I didn't care for him like he did me. And because of that, he wants to go back home. His plane leaves in about 9 in the morning, which is 8 hours from now.
"Where do you wanna go? Hotel? My treat," I shrug, knowing it can't make up for the way he has been treated. But at least he can get well rested before his plane leaves.
"Ok," he nods weakly as I release him. He keeps the tissue tightly into his nostrils. Thankfully, the bleeding seems to have slowed down and the swelling isn't that bad. We get a cab, and we stay silent. There aren't really words for how sorry I am, I'm still speechless.
I thought about calling Louis to ask if we could stay there, but I don't want to impose. He and Liza are staying at a hotel room, and I'm guessing they don't have another bedroom to spare. Besides, I can afford a hotel room for a couple of nights after how much the paintings sold for last night.
I am unsure of what this means. I do know that I can't be with Harry right now, and that there is someone else in my life who I want to be with more. I can feel bad and guilty about that, and I do, but that still won't change my feelings.
We get out of the car as the cab pulls up outside the hotel, and the driver hands us the suitcase from the trunk. I carry it into the lobby and we check in.
"How many nights will you be staying?" The lobbyist asks, as he glances up from the computer.
"Oh... I don't know. Two nights, please," I decide, because I think that is enough figure out my next move. But I think one thing is for sure.
I'm not going back to Harry.
•
"Can I bring you anything?" I ask, switching the bedside light off once we get to our room, all ready for bed. He finally takes the tissues out of his nose, and they are nearly soaked with his blood.
"Could you get me a wet cloth or something?" He asks, and I notice the stains of dried blood around his nostrils. I head to the bathroom and run a small towel under some hot water, and return with it. He rubs his face with it, cleaning the stains away.
"I'm so sorry Michael," I apologize again, sitting down beside his feet on the bed. He puts the cloth on the bedside table, and looks over at me.
"You didn't hit me, Harry did," he shrugs. I bob my head down, still feeling guilty. I told him to go up to the apartment before I did, because I wanted time alone with Niall.
"Still, I haven't been a good friend to you," I shake my head, looking down at my fingers nervously.
"And I'm not gonna pressure you to stay here, because I know you really want to go home. But I just want to say; Thank you."
"Thank you for being the only person for the last 4 years that I could trust to want what's best for me. And If I could do things differently, I would." I restrain myself from letting a tear escape, and I shut my eyes for a couple of seconds to prevent the lump in my throat to grow. I feel his hand placed on top of mine.
"Hey, I understand. I know why you did the things you did. And it's not like I don't want to be your friend anymore, I just can't be your friend here."
"Your life is... full. There is no room for me. When there is, just let me know," he says, his thumb stroking my knuckles. Even now, now that he has a bloody nose and a swollen cheek, he still finds it in himself to try and make me feel better.
"Alright, bitch?" He says and I laugh weakly. It's strange how being called a bitch can make me feel good.
"Alright," I nod, and make my way around the bed, getting under the covers.
"Night," he says, shutting off the light.
"Night," I say back, closing my eyes. Surprisingly, even with all the guilt and stress coursing through me, I fall asleep quickly.
•
•
HARRY
"You won't leave me?" I whisper into her ear, and it flutters as I trace my hands up to her perfect waist, sculpted after my touch. I come alive by her touch.
Her hands dig into my hair, pressing me against her lips, and she releases a heavenly moan on top of my lips. My pants tighten, and I feel her smile, inhaling heavily through her nose.
"I'll never leave you," she says lowly, and I open my eyes to find hers, hazel and bright. My stomach tingle with euphoria when those words are spoken by her. She'll never leave me.
She shifts, sitting down on my lap, putting her hands on my chest. She breathes heavily as she kisses me over and over and over again. She feels my stubble with her fingers, desperate for my lips.
"All of me..." she breathes on my lips, leading my hands up to her waist, and I hold her tightly.
"Is yours," she says, making my heart beat like crazy. I feel her pulse corresponding with mine, and I have to take a second to look at her. How did I get so lucky?
Our bodies pressing together, our lips connected, our souls intertwined... I love her.
"Do you love me?" I ask, desperate for her affection. I need her to love me too. I need her to crave me, I need her to be dependent on me, I need her to need me.
"With everything that I am," she responds, and I release a low groan, my whole body strengthening. She makes me strong.
I kiss her again, meeting her tongue, touching her all over. She is mine, her body is mine, her soul is all mine. I back away from her to look at her face again, the freckles on her nose nearly unnoticeable in the dim light. The corners of her lips curve, showing off the sexiest smile as her teeth show. Her hair falls to the sides of my face, and I place my hand on her thighs.
She notices my insecure gaze, as I'm wondering if she really means the words. How can she love me? How can she be mine? After all I've put her through...
"I will always choose you," she insists, putting my worries to rest. I smile uncontrollably, and my grip on her thighs tighten.
And then I wake up.
I immediately am overwhelmed by the intense nausea, and I drag myself out of the couch and into the bathroom right away. I open the toilet bowl, crouching over it.
It took a lot of alcohol for me to be able to pass out. I just couldn't stay conscious after she left. It was too painful. My hands clench around the toilet bowl as I throw up nothing but various liquor into it.
When she told me that she didn't understand how she ever fell in love with me, it was like my whole being collapsed. The most hurtful thing about it, is that I understand it.
The way I have been to her after Zayn broke into the apartment again... I was not worthy her love.
I had a chance to let her see the person she fell in love with, for over two weeks. Yet, I resorted back to my old possessive, selfish self when the fear of losing her got too great for me to handle.
Is this the end?
Is this the end of us?
Did she leave me for good? The thought is too heavy for me to handle.
Could she find it in her heart to give me yet another chance?
Will she remember me?
I know that if she would, she would understand me. She would understand why I did what I did, why I acted like I did. But I have to come to terms with the possibility that that may never happen.
Is this the end of us?
Will I be forced to live out the rest of my days without her?
Did Zayn really kill the part of her that loves me?
I don't know.
She said that the girl who loves me is dead. I can't believe that. I won't believe that.
No matter if she remembers me or not, I have to hope that in the end, no matter what, she will always choose me.
A/N
Hey guys! did you like this chapter?
see you in the next one xx