It's morning again, and I'm in my flat with Charlotte. Well, it's more or less morning- it's around 1 pm. I was up very late last night, watching hours of Orange is the New Black. Sleeping in felt right.
I hardly want to wake up, in fact, I wish I didn't. This isn't one of those nice wake ups. My neck hurts, so does my shoulder, from propping myself up to watch TV on my iPad all night. My eyes are still heavy.
Harry still floods my mind. When I was watching the show last night, all I could think about was him. Even things characters were saying reminded me of him. It's all very hard, because I don't know how to deal with this. We've never fought as horribly as this before, which is why I keep thinking this could be traumatic.
I don't want to think about it. I pick up my phone that is lying on the side of the bed and turn it on.
That screen that says it has no battery comes on. I groan and put it on my charger and decide to take a shower while I wait. I grab a towel, but first go into the kitchen to get some food.
Charlotte is in the kitchen. "Hey," I say to her.
She looks me up and down, probably because I look pathetic. "Hi."
I walk to get some frozen waffles from our freezer and I put them in the toaster. "How are you?" she asks me softly.
"Tired," I respond, and she laughs at me.
"No shit."
I smile. She knows everything about Harry and I. I told her yesterday about everything, starting with the beginning of the holiday until yesterday morning. She sympathized with me, which was great. No one has done that except for her, and it is nice to know she is there for me. After I cried to her for a few hours, she took me to breakfast and then the movies. We got lunch afterwards before shopping for a bit. We came home and ate junk for dinner and she introduced me to Orange is the New Black. And that's all I spent my time watching for the rest of the night.
My waffles pop up and I take them out and spread Nutella on them. Nutella is a cure-all, I'm convinced.
I eat them quickly because I am dying for a nice hot shower. I scarf the second waffle down as I am walking into the bathroom with my towel.
I do the shower things: turn the water on, strip and wait. I do look like a mess. Hair tangled because I never put it up last night. My face is oily and traces of leftover makeup still discolor me. It's an awful state, but I don't like to worry about it too much.
I step in the shower when I see it start to steam.
It's hot, which is relaxing. It wakes me up. Standing in the shower, all I do is think about Harry.
I wonder what Harry did after we fought. I wonder if he was angry all day or if he got over it in minutes. I can imagine him drinking again. He probably got drunk again. I shudder. I need to talk to him and finish this. Either way- breaking up, or getting back together- I need closure. I'm sure he feels the same.
I wonder if he wants to break up. Maybe he felt what I felt yesterday- that we were like complete strangers. I wonder if he loves me anymore.
Thinking like this makes me nervous to talk to him.
It takes me half an hour to get out of the shower. By the time I am done, hardly anything has changed for me emotionally. I'm still confused and I'm still hurting. I walk out of the bathroom with my towel wrapped around my body knowing one thing for certain- I need to talk to Harry. Charlotte is sitting at the kitchen table, and I tell her my thoughts.
She looks up and gives me a terrified look. "I'll pray for you."
I laugh. "Thanks."
I drift into my room and lay on my bed. My hair is wrapped in a towel and my body in another. I try to air dry as much as I can before I put clothes on. I know I'm not accomplishing anything by putting off my phone call to Harry, but the nervousness in my stomach doesn't subside.
I grab my phone from my nightstand which is now charged to 87%. I have a missed call and the red notification indicates that I have a voicemail.
I click on it, seeing Zayn's name appear on my screen. The thought of him makes my heart beat hard against my chest. I press play and put the phone up to my ear.
"Hey, um, Jess. It's me," he begins. I hear him take in a long breath, which I match with my own. "I don't know how good of a time this is for you- well, you didn't answer, so it couldn't have been a great time." He chuckles nervously, but returns quickly to seriousness. "Well I called to tell you I took your advice." My advice? "I asked Lilah out." My stomach falls, and goosebumps quickly find a way to fall over me. "She said yes," he affirms. Holy fuck. No. "We are going out tonight, that one Italian restaurant on the corner by my house. I heard it's good. She suggested it, actually. I just went along, you know. Sorry, I'm rambling, I know. Well, I'll talk to you later. Just wanted to say thank you. Call me back. Bye."
I make some awful choking sound as I try to stifle a sob. He isn't really going on a date with her, is he? He told me he didn't like her. I push myself up off the bed.
I pull on black leggings and a huge sweater and run into the bathroom.
Makeup. I put makeup on to try to cover up yesterday's events, something sort of natural but good at accentuating the nice parts of my face. I finish as fast as I can, not completely conscious of what I am doing.
I throw on some combat boots and leave the flat without telling Charlotte before hopping into my car. I drive with no destination in mind and my mind seems to be whirling as I take in the familiar streets. Of course I'd be driving to his house of all places...to Zayn's house.
My hands start to sweat on the steering wheel. I'm not sure what my plan is right now. Impulse is taking over my actions, without giving my mind chance to catch up. I keep cursing myself and regretting ever telling Zayn to take out Delilah. I feel so stupid. I have to get to him.
M phone rings, pulling me away from my goal.
It's Harry, and guilt rushes through me. I wait for it to ring a few times before I answer, maybe to not sound so desperate.
"Hey," I say once I bring it up to my ear in a voice I try to keep level despite the torment I'm battling internally.
"Hi." My blind ambition starts to fade as I hear his voice and remember last night. "Can you come over?" he asks.
I pass the turn to Harry's neighborhood without stopping. Pain pulses through my head at the thought of being in his presence. "I don't-"
"We need to talk now." I sigh and look into the mirror at the intersection I passed. I don't want to go there. "I don't want to do this over the phone," I hear him say.
My stomach drops. Do what over the phone? Is this it? His call makes me reevaluate my plan of going to Zayn's house. Leave it to me to go running to Zayn when Harry and I are in our worst time. I mentally curse myself for my irrationality. Going to Zayn isn't going fix my problems with Harry. I had to face those first before truly acknowledging what I want from Zayn.
"Okay," I say to Harry. "I'll be there in five minutes."
He hangs up without saying another word.
I make a U-turn at the next intersection and drive slowly to Harry's house. We could be breaking up right now, is all I am thinking.
I prepare myself for it. What else could be so important he had to tell me in person? Nothing. Nothing with the voice that he called me with. I am convinced about the fact when I knock on his door, my stomach churning.
I realize while waiting that I don't usually knock. I knocked this time, though. And he comes to the door and opens it for me. "Come in," he says in a gravelly voice.
I notice immediately the dark circles around Harry's eyes. He didn't sleep well last night. I wonder if he can tell the same about me.
I walk into his flat quietly, afraid to snap the tension in the air and cause another fight. It could happen so easily today, like yesterday. One wrong move can break us...that is if we aren't already broken.
Harry walks until he gets to the other end of the room, and he leans on the wall and crosses his arms. He always does this when he gets defensive, I've learned. He keeps his stare at his feet, and I take this opportunity to look at him, really look at him. His white t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms that I have seen so often illustrate that he hasn't been out of bed all day. I feel a little overdressed looking at him, but I wasn't thinking of Harry when I got ready. Of course I wasn't...I was thinking about Zayn. The thought of him causes a pang of pain to strike through me, before I shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts.
Say something, I tell myself. "Hey," I start. I have a frown on my face that I hope he sees. "About yesterday." His head rolls up slowly before his eyes meet mine. With his harsh gaze directed at me, I find myself getting slightly nervous about what I'm trying to say. "I'm sorry for leaving without telling you. I just needed time to think."
He scoffs and drops his head. "By 'think' you mean talk to Niall about Zayn."
I close my eyes and bite my lip. "Yeah," I breathe. "That's what I meant."
He stares at me through hooded eyes and I doubt he believes my apology is sincere. "I'm sorry for calling you a whore," he says, making sure to emphasize the last word.
I shrug. I'm not completely accepting his halfhearted apology.
I hold my hands together by my chest and wait. I have nothing to say to him.
"What is it about him that makes you not care to hurt me?" Harry says, his voice barely a whisper. The pain in his voice sends a shiver down my spine as his troubled words hit me. They remind me of all the shit I've done to him. "Why are you so in love with him?"
I don't say anything. I don't want to let him or myself hear what could come out of my mouth.
"You can't tell me it's just because of his looks," he says doubtfully. "I wouldn't believe you're doing this over infatuation."
All of his words sting me to the point where I don't think I can hear his pained voice for much longer. "You don't deserve this Harry," I mutter.
"You're right," he says loudly. "I don't deserve this." I hear his footsteps as he closes in on me. "I've only ever loved you. I trusted you when you did not deserve it from me. I gave you everything you could've wanted and you gave me up like it was all nothing."
I shake my head urgently. "It never was nothing. It was always something to me."
"Then why go to Zayn?" he asks.
I wince. I refuse to explain it to him. I cannot let him hear my feelings for someone else. "It was never my intention to hurt you," I say instead.
He laughs quietly at that. He blinks and brings his green eyes up to mine. I am shaking now, the adrenaline controlling my emotions. "I loved you," he says.
I remember everything we did together. I remember the night he first told me he loved me, how awkward we were about it. I got to meet Ed Sheeran because of him. He would always trust me and he was always there for me. "I loved you too," I say quietly. I exhale shakily as my body continues to rattle slightly.
"No you didn't," he says. My eyes flash up to his. "Not enough," he rewords. I swallow the lump in my throat that has been there since yesterday. "I can't trust you. I'll never be able to trust you," he says to me.
I shrug while staring at his feet. "You shouldn't have to worry about that."
"I'm not going to anymore." The last shred of hope that we could still be together has been blown away. I know what is coming. "I'm done having to try to please you enough to stay with me. We're done."
It doesn't hit me right when he says it. It takes a few seconds for all of our lost memories to evoke the right emotion. As everything we did together runs through my mind, I feel my eyes start to fill with tears. I choke out a sob and walk past him through the hallway. I go into his bedroom. I stop and look at the room where we used to be together all of the time. The memories of the bed where he would hold me close to him flash in front of my eyes while the room gets blurry from tears. I take a breath and force the memories out of my mind. I work to find the few things I know I have left in there. A toothbrush. A shirt. A pair of headphones. Some other things. I get everything, because I don't want to have to come back. I make myself stop tearing up before I leave. I don't want him to see me crying over this when he isn't.
Harry doesn't come into the room while I'm there, and it makes it more bearable. I walk out of the bedroom, and he stands in the hallway leaning against the wall as he always does. His head is toward the ground as he plays with the cross necklace hanging from his neck. I take in a breath trying to say something, but nothing comes out.
"You know this is what you want deep down," he says.
I sigh and try to walk past him. "Move," I say.
He blocks me and says: "Maybe not even so deep."
I exhale and push past him. In the living room, I look at his flat one last time knowing I'm not coming back here. As he walks into the living room, I decide to disappear. I look at him once more, into his eyes which are red, and then I break out the front door and down the stars.
I throw my things in the backseat of the car and drive away. I see Harry watch me leave until I get to the end of his street. Then he walks back inside.
I'm not crying. I'm past crying. I cannot breathe. Forcing air into my lungs and out, but it only burns. I am getting lightheaded with every breath. This thing they call heartbreak, it suddenly makes sense. A broken heart is the best way to describe it. It feels like I am dying.
I prepared myself to break up with Harry, but there was no way I could've prepared myself for this. I go home.
On my way home, the radio is spitting out lyrics of love through static. With a huff of annoyance, I immediately turn it off.
The tears I thought I was past hit me hard. I've experienced pain like this. Pain that makes got want to rip yourself out of your own skin to free yourself of the feelings you cannot stop. It's almost unbearable.
I get home and disappear into my room and I cry. I fall into my bed and cover my face with a pillow, makeup running down my cheeks and staining the fabric. I scream into it as the hollowness in my chest takes over. My body is shaking, attempting to shake off the feeling, I assume. I already know I won't be able to.
After a meager 10 minutes of this, I decide I can't let myself think anymore. I need to do something to preoccupy myself. From experience I know that crying over it will just keep me feeling this way for longer.
I get out of my room and I go to the kitchen and try to cook something good. I attempt to play music from my phone, but when I turn it on, the background distracts me. It's of me and Harry. Sitting on a bench in a park. It's from awhile ago. It gets hard for me to swallow as I go to my pictures and change my background.
I look through my photos, many old ones of Harry, trying to decide if I want to delete them or not. I can't do any of that now. Looking at them is tearing me apart enough.
I stop at a group of pictures that all look the same. It's of Harry, in the dark. He's in bed under the covers and he is trying to keep me from taking the photos. He looks so angry. I was using flash when he was trying to sleep, and he was pissed. His hair is everywhere, his tan skin shows as his fingers attempt to block the camera from taking a photo of him. I remember that I took these because I accidentally turned on the flash, and I saw how mad he was. I couldn't stop then.
The pictures are interrupted by a video. I play it.
"Stahhhhppp," Harry says. He slaps my phone out of my hand so that it only shows the sheets and I squeal.
"Harry you're ruining it," I say.
"What is this?" he asks in a voice that had made me laugh. He grabs my phone, while I am giggling nonstop. The camera points to me, and I try to stop the shine in my eyes.
"Harry, no," I say.
"Oh it's a video, I see." Some shuffling happens and then I see he made us move so that we were sitting up. The camera points at us sitting with each other for a second. "Let's take some pictures." The video stops.
I continue on to the next pictures, which are of me and him right after we took the video. Selfies he took of us. In one he is kissing my cheek. Another he is shoving my hair out of the way, and the next, he is kissing me again. I remember that night. It was a few months ago, before things were bad between us.
I sigh and put my phone down. I'm going to have to delete these sometime.
It hurts to know that we aren't together. It hurts like hell. I know I can't fix it with him. He would never take me back. I'm not going to go back either.
My eyes flicker to my phone as I get a text from Zayn. My head hurts when I see his name, knowing that he is a huge reason for all of this. I halfheartedly read the text.
From Zayn:
Thanks again for the advice:)
Zayn is still going out with Delilah tonight.
Zayn.
I go back to my room and get dressed again. I do my makeup again, this time taking my time with it all. He could distract me, is what I am thinking. I once again disregard anything telling me this could be disastrous. I leave my flat and drive in the direction of Zayn's house without doubting anything.
A/N:
Thanks to @ZAYNuhhh for editing:)
(Also the next chapter sucks ass)