I walk into Harry's flat. The smell of eggs and bacon and the warmth of the room altogether overwhelm me. I didn't realize how cold I was until I walked inside here.
Harry is sitting on the couch, watching TV with a plate of his half eaten meal on the table next to him. I pause at the door and stiffen up as I notice him. He raises his head and looks at me with a blank face. "Where were you at, babe?" he says. His voice is so fake, I know he is still mad at me.
"Walking," I respond. I shut the door behind me. I take off my Uggs and leave them by the door.
"I called you. You didn't answer." He points to my phone in my hand. "You had your phone."
I take off his robe and drape it on the couch. "Maybe I didn't want to answer," I mutter, a little too loud, and my eyes flash up to Harry to see if he heard me.
When I meet his eyes, he looks down at his feet and clears his throat.
He heard me, I know he did. I sigh uneasily. Shit.
I act like it didn't happen since that's what he is doing. Harry watches me leave my phone on the kitchen counter and walk to see what is on the television. It is just news, so with nothing left to say I decide to get out of this awful situation.
"I'm going to go change," I tell Harry. He looks at my outfit, which is just the pajamas from last night, and he nods. I walk to Harry's room.
I find some jeans in Harry's drawers that I left here accidentally a few weeks ago. I pull them on and then I put on one of his t-shirts that I never see him wear. I go sit on the edge of the bed. I know I should go out and eat, because he did make food for me too. I don't want to. The tenseness in the room is so obvious that I am scared to go out. I curse myself. Why did I leave this morning without telling him anything? He was already pissed at me from last night, and I knew that was going to last through to this morning. I shouldn't have gotten him angrier. What was I thinking?
My eyes drift to the nightstand by Harry's side of the bed. The lime green post it note that I left him is crumpled up on the floor to the side of it. I can imagine him waking up with a headache, already frustrated from the night before. Then he'd become pissed while reading my note because of how I decided to run away instead of dealing with the problem of waking up next to him. I can imagine him wondering why I have been so stubborn lately, and I can imagine him allowing himself to think that maybe Zayn is the reason.
I sigh and wonder if this did happen, if this is how he felt. I get off of the bed, not able to stand my own mind and its guilt. It makes me laugh that I cannot handle hearing myself think anymore. Everything I think is hurtful to someone, and all it is is annoying.
I take my time in walking back into the living room. Harry still sits on the couch exactly the same. I go sit on the chair he isn't on. As I shuffle into it, I see him cringe every time I make sound.
"Do you have a headache?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Sort of. I took some aspirin."
I mouth 'oh.' "Sorry," I say. I hardy mean it. Hangovers are the consequences of getting drunk, and he chose to get drunk knowing what it would do to him. So he gets to deal with his hangover. He doesn't care much, I've come to realize. He does it all of the time. He loves to drink.
The two of us sit in silence as the news on the television plays. The silence between us is awkward, and I feel like I should break it. I cannot figure out an appropriate way to, though.
We used to never be like this. We were usually never silent. We always had fun. Even when we weren't speaking, it was okay. We would enjoy our silence together. Today I feel as if I am sitting with a stranger.
I stand up and go to the kitchen to get some of the eggs and bacon Harry made us. As I am about to grab a plate, Harry speaks.
"Did you want to tell me something?" he says.
I pause for a moment and wonder if his question is directed toward me. It is so unusual that I don't believe that it is. I spin around to see if he is on his phone. He is staring at me.
I furrow my brow. "No?"
"You sure?"
I am getting suspicious. What is he talking about? This isn't about how I was thinking about breaking up with him, I hope. I'm not sure about that yet, and how would he even know I was considering it? "I think I'd know," I say to hide my own anxiety.
He clenches his jaw. "Nothing about Zayn?" My eyes stare back and forth into both of his. My heart starts to race as his voice raises, and I realize he knows something. "Nothing you told Niall but not me?"
I am astonished. I stand with my mouth open and start to breathe out scrambled words as I try to make sense of what he knows. There is no way he could've heard my conversation with Niall. He couldn't have known what we were talking about.
Harry eyes shoot to my phone on the counter. Then I remember I left it out here alone for at least ten minutes, and I remember the texts I sent to Niall. "You went through my phone?" I ask.
I leave my plate and storm into the living room closer to Harry.
He jolts up and his long legs take few strides to meet me half way. He halts as he reaches me. "What are you keeping from me?" he asks. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to hide things from each other?" His voice continues to rise.
Now my voice is higher. "I thought we agreed you'd trust me? I didn't think I'd have to tell you everything." I cross my arms and spin around, beginning to move toward the kitchen.
He grabs the fabric that hangs loosely off of me and yanks me around to him. I roughly slam into his chest. His dominating actions infuriate me, and I struggle to get out of his hold. "How can I trust you when all you do is whore around?" he asks.
My anger, for a second, disappears. I stop struggling, and whatever I planned on saying to him falls from my mouth.
I cannot believe he said that to me. His angry look falters, and I guess he doesn't believe he said it either. He thinks I'm a slut. My cheeks burn red. I feel a lump in my throat start to grow that I try to swallow down. I shove his chest and he drops his hold on my shirt. I step back from his towering presence. "What the fuck, Harry?" I say as I try to keep from letting my emotions show through.
He stares at me, weakening me even more.
Harry disregards my expressions. He continues to argue. "Niall told me about you and Zayn. About what happened at his house," he says in his still bitter voice.
The only thing Niall knew and could have told Harry is the time Zayn tried to seduce me in his flat. That time was when I was the vulnerable one.
"So you know it wasn't my fault," I say while trying to get the attention of his eyes.
He scoffs and lifts and drops his arms. "You expect me to believe that bullshit."
"Bullshit? It's the complete truth!" My voice gets weaker as my emotions attack me in higher amounts. "Zayn was the one who came onto me, I left as soon as I could! I was almost crying!"
"So why didn't you tell me about it? If you're so innocent then how come you didn't explain to me what happened the first time we talked?"
I groan as his suggestions provoke me exceedingly. "Because I was afraid of this! Harry, I knew you'd act like this!" I stare at him and release my breath that I've been holding.
"Of course I'm acting like this, you lied to me again!" he yells with full force.
I stop and take a step back with nothing left to say. His yelling doesn't scare me. Nothing he does scares me. But it aggravates me. It makes me defensive and all I can think to do is fight against him.
His rapid breathing slows, and he unclenches his fists. Harry drops his head into his hands and rubs his temples. I assume his hangover is getting to him with all of out screaming. "What happened while you were at your family's house?" he asks while lifting his head.
I laugh at his implications while a hundred different possible situations run through my mind. "Why would you think anything happened?" I ask.
"Why else would you be texting Niall?" he asks rhetorically.
I stare into his cocky eyes knowing he is completely right this time. I don't want him to be, though. And I'm not about to admit he is after the way he treated me. I drop my eyes from his and start to walk towards the front door. I grab my phone off the counter and shove it in my back pocket. "You're a dick."
He follows me closely and I hear him scoff. "I'm a dick?"
"Exactly." I grab my Uggs off the floor and swing the door open.
He watches me walk outside. "Fine. leave. Don't even think about coming back," he says to me.
"I'm not," I say with one more glare into his aggressive eyes. I slam the door behind me and begin to tread down the stairs. As I do, I hear the thud of something being thrown to the ground in Harry's flat. I roll my eyes.
At the bottom of the stairs I stop as I realize my car isn't here. Harry picked me up at my apartment to go to the club last night and we drove back here. I groan. I cross my arms and tuck my hands under them and start to walk. It is freezing outside and all I am wearing is Harry's t-shirt that is many sizes too big for me and jeans.
I do not want to call anyone, though. It's just past 7:30 now, and I don't want to wake up anyone else to come pick me up. My house is a couple miles from here. I begin to walk.
White puffs appear every time I exhale, which is rapidly. I take a deep breath and force myself to stop this madness. I need to calm down and just get home.
I walk for five minutes and decide it is too cold for me and my choice of clothing. I call Charlotte my roommate. A few minutes later she arrives and picks me up in her car. I am shivering when I slide into her car, and I am crying.
I couldn't stop myself from the tears. I tried. But with nothing around to occupy myself, all I could do was stay heated by the fight we had. I sob all the way home, and all the way into my room. For a few hours I stay there, and Charlotte doesn't bother me, which I am grateful for. For those hours I lay and wonder what I need to do with Harry. With our worst fight we've had and the conversation with Niall, the one thing I can picture is that Harry and I are not lasting.