"Out!"
It's the first thing Y/n wakes up to, Savannah's outraged voice echoing along the walls of Y/n's bedroom.
Y/n groans, squinting her eyes open at the sudden movement of her bed shaking wildly.
Savannah's pulling the stranger out of Y/n's bed, her merciless hands continuously pushing him out the bedroom door. He's half awake, his slumberous daze making him scramble as he attempts to throw his clothes back on.
"Fuckin' Jesus" the unknown man grumbles, his eyes still half closed from the immense amount of alcohol he consumed the previous night.
Savannah remains relentless, despite his attempt to get fully dressed. He even falls at one point, when he hops on one foot to get his leg through his jeans, but she doesn't stop for a second.
"You, get out of here!" she demands, her hand giving him one last shove out the door before she slams it shut.
Y/n groans again, her sensitivity to anything other than complete darkness and silence making her throw the duvets over her head and bury her face in her pillow. She's well aware that she has to embrace the very few seconds she has of total peace and quiet before Savannah begins to lecture her for the irresponsibility she just walked into.
She's only able to reunite with darkness for a split second before Savannah pulls the covers completely off of her, bringing her back into the horrifying sunlight.
Y/n falls off the bed, letting out a groan as her still slightly intoxicated body makes contact with the wooden floor. Her hungover state is making it nearly impossible to figure out the chaos unraveling in the room; all she can really understand is the pounding in her head and the burning in her eyes every time she exposes them from their lids.
She rolls over onto her back, huffing as her fingers dig into her eyelids. She coughs, her abrupt movements making her stomach flip with every turn she makes. She's given no time to recover before Savannah rips her arms away from her face, gripping onto her wrists as she pulls Y/n off of the floor.
"What the fuck is going on here, Y/n?!" Savannah yells, eyes glaring at Y/n's very, very hungover stance.
Y/n nearly trips over her own two feet as she attempts to balance herself after Savannah harshly pulled her up from her collapsed figure. If she had the capability to answer back, she would have, but she's still fucked up from last night and can barely stomach the sunlight seeping in from the curtains.
"Is this what you've been up to?!" Savannah spits, angry laughter tying into her words, "Is this the kind of shit you've been doing while cutting everyone off?! Sleeping with random guys?!"
The last thing Savannah expected to see was Y/n in bed with a half-naked man and empty bottles of alcohol scattered across her bedroom floor. It was extremely rare for Y/n to carelessly consume alcohol and have consistent one night stands. Savannah's witnessed her go through these phases only a handful of times throughout their friendship, all of which stemmed from Y/n's toxic intolerance of being alone.
She should have seen this coming, though. After finding out she's been in a relationship with someone Y/n was in love with, the first thing she should have done was check up on her. But there was so much fear holding her back, so much guilt preventing her from confronting her about it.
She wouldn't know exactly what to say, or how to say it, without making it sound like she was the shittiest friend in the world. She had a feeling Y/n had feelings for Harry, considering she had mentioned him a plethora of times once she met him.
And Savannah still took it upon herself to date Harry, for her own selfish reasons. She never thought that it was the potential reason Y/n was so distant. That thought was the last one in the back of her head, completely throwing her off guard when she found out.
She's tried to reach out to her multiple times, only to be deliberately ignored and shut down. After a while, she figured all Y/n wanted was space, so she stopped trying for a couple days.
But nothing stopped Harry. He'd spend hours knocking on her front door, on his knees, begging for her to speak to him. He'd call her when he wasn't near her, because he had driven himself crazy knowing he never told Y/n what he needed to tell her so urgently.
Y/n knew—she knew just how much effort he was putting into seeing her again. She heard him, every day, through her front door, but she never knew what to do. The constant fear that Harry didn't feel the same way back was all the convincing she needed to never speak to him again.
There's only so much her heart could break, and she didn't know how many more times it could before she finally snapped.
Y/n grips her head as she squints her eyes shut, hissing at the throbbing in her head when Savannah's voice booms throughout the room. The overwhelming migraine taking over Y/n's head practically forces her to sit on the edge of her bed, the palm of her hands still digging into her eyes.
"Not cutting anyone off," Y/n mumbles, grumbling when she opens her eyes properly to look at Savannah, "I'm just adjusting."
It isn't a lie. Her intention wasn't to ignore them, not at all. But as time went on, the more her emotions started becoming fragile; one wrong sight would have made her break.
And as stupid as it sounds, having sex was the only time she felt wanted after Harry and Savannah started dating. Even if it was in a drunken state, even if it was just purely for physical pleasure, the hours spent with random men were the only moments she felt purpose.
It was also her biggest distraction. Having one night stands was her emotional outlet, her way of letting out all of her emotions without actually doing so. It sure as hell was better than being alone—anything was.
Savannah sighs, shaking her head softly as she kneels eye level to her. She'd never seen her like this before, so lost and broken. She would have lectured her further if she wanted to because she had every right to smack some sense into her. But after all this time, after all the pain she could only imagine Y/n going through, could she really do that to her? Could she really blame her for doing this to herself?
"Y/n," she rubs her legs, "I have been the shittiest, most horrible friend to you. I was so selfish and so inconsiderate, and I don't blame you for not speaking to me these past couple days. But, Y/n, this—" her hands gesture around the horrendous state of her bedroom, "this isn't adjusting. Having drunk sex isn't going to rid your feelings for Harry. You're suppressing your emotions, you're running away. That's what you're doing."
Y/n's lips begin to quiver as her eyes well with tears; the first time she's truly cried since the night she saw Harry at Lexi's. Savannah feels somewhat relieved when she sees the tears falling from Y/n's eyes. It isn't a familiar sight to see, but it shows her that she's actually accepting what she's been hiding all along.
"You have to talk to me. I don't care if you yell at me, Y/n. I don't care what you do to me, but you have to talk to me. You have to show me something. I can't be hearing about your feelings from Harry, that's not fair for anyone."
"What was I supposed to say?" Y/n whispers, her words breaking beneath cries she so desperately wishes she could stop.
But there's no going back now. The alcohol is still running in her system and she's reacting instinctively. There is nothing holding her back, not now.
"How was I supposed to tell him that I was in love with him when I knew he didn't feel the same way? And how was I supposed to tell you anything about him when I knew this would end up happening anyways?! And what was I supposed to say to the both of you when you both decided to take it upon yourselves to flirt in front of me?!"
By now, Y/n's blood is starting to boil. The words coming out of her mouth are laced with venom, her sudden shift in mood making Savannah swallow thickly. But everything in her is operating a million miles an hour, her words coming out faster than her brain can register. She doesn't even remember standing up from the bed while she paces around her bedroom, empty bottles rolling around the wooden floor.
"Because no matter what I would have done, it would have ended the same! The way it always does, Savannah! The way it always ends with you getting what I want, even if I want it more—"
"Y/n—"
"Even if I need it! You still get it!"
The harshness in her voice is replaced by violent cries, her words drowned in uncontrollable sobs.
The pain is all over. Everything she's attempted to numb is now all hitting her at once. All the loneliness, all the anger, all the hurt she's been burying is now reaching the surface. She can barely breathe, all of the emotions suffocating her, squeezing against her throat.
Savannah is quick to embrace her shaken body, shushing her as her hands rub up and down her back.
A part of her always knew she was the reason Y/n's love life was barely existent. Although Y/n never admitted it, she drops hints at it every so often. She did notice how all of Y/n's high school crushes ended up liking her instead, and did notice how whenever Y/n tried to date, she would barely mention them to her. It was as if she was hiding them from her, completely intimidated that Savannah would take away her only chance at a relationship.
And Savannah can't shake the horrible feeling she has when Y/n admits all of it to her.
Y/n buries her face in her shoulder, her tears soaking through her t-shirt. She wishes she could hold a grudge against Savannah, but she doesn't have the heart to blame her for anything that's happened. Everything is because of Y/n, everything happening is because of her fear of emotions and every bit of her has no one else to blame.
"I need him." Y/n sobs into her shoulder, her hands tugging at the ends of her shirt for some sort of release.
"I need him so much. And I hate it—I hate that I do so m—much."
"Oh, Y/n." Savannah kisses her temple, holding her higher against her.
She knows how much Y/n needs him, and knows now more than ever. She was her happiest when she first met him, she was almost an entirely different person. But now, after everything that's happened, Savannah has never seen her more of a wreck than she is in this moment.
"Let's sit you down, you need to breathe."
Y/n whimpers as she's placed back on the bed, Savannah reminding her to breathe every couple of seconds. She looks at Y/n with sadness in her eyes, comforting her whenever she needs it most.
"He needs you, too, you know." Savannah sighs, shaking her head as she takes Y/n's fidgeting hands into hers.
"I never noticed it until you distanced yourself from us. He didn't open up to me the way he should have, never talked to me the way he had with you. When I asked him about it—asked him why he wasn't communicating with me properly, he always mentioned you."
Y/n flutters her eyes shut, pursing her lips with the slight possibility that Harry may actually feel the same way towards her. There was always a part of her that fully believed the only reason he's tried so hard to reach her was because he felt guilty for hurting her so much.
But knowing that there's a chance in Harry reciprocating feelings gives Y/n an overwhelming sensation she's ever experienced before. It's the first time in a while there's a particular type of warmth in her chest, and she swears she begins to tear up from the bit of happiness she's been missing.
"He would tell me that you were the only one he truly felt comfortable around. Even confessed you were the only one he'd ever be able to talk to, even if we were in a relationship. He was going absolutely mental."
Savannah sweeps the pad of her thumb under Y/n's eye, catching the few extra tears that are overflowing. She smiles weakly at her in reassurance, raking her knotted hair between her fingers.
"No matter how much he claimed to like me, he loved you. He'll always love you. And even when he was completely oblivious, I know now that, deep down, he was always yours. He was never really mine, no matter how much we all thought differently."
Y/n nods slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips when she hears Savannah's words. It's the first sense of hope she's felt in a while, and it almost completely rids the pain. Almost.
"I'm sorry for ruining your relationship, though. I kind of feel like this is all my fault."
Savannah laughs softly, finding it almost completely unbelievable that Y/n always finds a way to apologize, even when things aren't her fault.
"Are you serious, Y/n? Nobody, including me, can love that man half as much as you do. I ruined your relationship. You barely had anything to ruin."
She runs her hands through Y/n's hair one last time before patting her shoulder, a smirk growing on her face as she stands up from her kneeling position.
"Now, up you go. I believe you have to talk to someone who's been dying to see you."
-
It's when Y/n is about to walk out of her door, freshly showered with a new change of clothes, ready to face Harry when she realizes she never, truly said it.
She never fully told Harry she loves him—not when he was conscious, at least. She had felt it for so long. It has taken over her for so long, yet she never told him how she felt. It almost makes her wonder if it's the reason why he's been trying so hard for her.
He needs to hear her say it.
"Y/n." Harry breathes out, springing from his position on the ground up to his feet when he sees her step out to her front porch.
He twitches when he instinctively brings his hand up to reach for her, but he holds himself back. He isn't quite sure how far she'll allow him to go, but if it were up to him, every part of her would be against him.
Every single part.
She sucks in a breath, not expecting to see him waiting on her doorstep, and certainly not expecting him to seem so relieved to see her.
"H—Harry," she whispers hesitantly, brows furrowed and a small frown on her lips "what are you—"
"I'm sorry!" He stutters, interrupting her before she has a chance to finish asking her question.
"I know how inappropriate it is of me to just sit on your doorstep so unexpectedly but I knew Savannah was coming and I thought—I thought that maybe this would be the only time I'd get to see you. I was going to come in but some guy came running out of here and I didn't want to get in between your time with Savannah so I just figured I'd wait until you came back out but I wasn't sure if you ever would so I just figured I'd—"
He stops rambling when he feels Y/n's hand on his cheek, her eyes looking at him with so much tenderness he swears his heart melts.
"Catch your breath, Harry." She mumbles, rubbing her thumb along his cheek, "Just take a breath."
He inhales sharply as he closes his eyes, turning his head so that her hand is against his lips. He kisses her palm softly before she moves it to play with his unbrushed hair.
His eyes flutter shut at her touch, his body almost completely melting into her. He feels his weakest now more than ever, and he's never been more relieved to be this close to her again.
"Who was he, Y/n?" He whispers.
"The guy, who ran out of here, who was he?"
As much of a coward as it makes him, the thought of her in bed with someone else physically and mentally pains him more so than he's ever expected. His head swims with thoughts of her naked, trembling, crying as she devotes her love to some other man. And the more he thinks about it, the sicker his stomach feels.
"Have I been trying for nothing? Have I been wasting my time?"
How could you ever doubt my love for you? is the first thought that comes to her. How could you ever question how much I love you?
Instead of saying the words right at the tip of her tongue, her eyes crease inward, slightly shaking her head as she scrapes her fingertips delicately against his scalp.
"I don't know, Harry." she whispers honestly, "I don't know who he is."
He nods softly, but nothing in her answer reassures him. He knows there is no other explanation for a guy to run out of her house at nine in the morning without a shirt on.
"May I come in? Wanna talk." He asks tentatively.
Instead of answering, Y/n grips his hand softly in hers as she opens the door wider—allowing him in and insisting he make himself at home.
Silence falls between them as they both claim spots on opposite sides of the room.
There's a tension in the room they both can't seem to shake, an unaddressed barrier between them making it nearly impossible to find an appropriate way to start a conversation.
Harry's the first one to break the silence, however, after a few minutes past of each of them refusing to make any eye contact with each other.
"Were you ever going to tell me?"
The question caught Y/n's attention quickly, her head that was once resting in the palm of her hand now up on its own, a small "hm?" parting past her lips.
She's acting dumb even though she knows exactly what he's talking about. She just isn't prepared to answer him, not in the way he wants her to.
"That you're in love with me. Were you ever going to tell me?"
She shrugs, her teeth biting her bottom lip as she tears her gaze away from his. She isn't used to confrontation, especially when it involves her emotions. It's one of her weaknesses, but there's absolutely no way around this one. Even if there was, she wouldn't have the audacity to take it. He deserves to know—everything this time.
"I told you before."
Harry's jaw clenches, eyes narrowing as he looks at her from across the room. No, he may have been oblivious about her feelings in the beginning, but he sure as hell would never have forgotten it if she told him how she felt.
"Bullshit!" He scoffs. "You didn't tell me shit! We wouldn't be here right now if you had told me!"
She sighs, her cheek laying right back down in the palm of her hand, almost as if shying away from him.
"Well, it's just—you were sleeping."
Harry stands from his place on the couch, face scrunching in aggravation as his hands rub up and down his face. Everything about this situation is knawing at his bones and he feels like it's stranging him.
"You're kidding me, right? You have to be fucking kidding me right now!"
His fingers harshly grip the roots of his hair before stomping his way towards her. If he doesn't get any answers out of her, he swears he'll lose his goddamn mind even more than he already has.
His hands grip the sides of her face, squeezing her jaw between his hands as he looks at her bewildered.
"I need answers, Y/n. I don't think you understand how many fucking answers I need right now."
He speaks through clenched teeth and a tightened jaw, frustration boiling in his blood as she gives him the outright most ambiguous and outrageous answers he's ever heard in his life.
Y/n places her hands on top of his, her fingernails digging gently into his skin. Despite the harshness of his stare, this is the first time she's seen him in weeks, and she still finds him to be the most beautiful sight she's ever seen.
"It was the night after I drove you back from Lexi's—when you and Savannah were kind of going through that rough patch."
He falls to his knees in between her legs, an almost unnoticeable smile tugging at his lips from the memories of that night. Because although Savannah had left him by himself, he had a night with Y/n that changed him forever.
"You fell asleep on me after you told me you were still going to fight for her. That was probably one of the worst things you could have said to me, but you didn't know, and I was angry at myself for not telling you sooner. I didn't know how else to tell you unless you were—you were sleeping."
His hand reaches up to her lips, his thumb tracing along the outlines of her mouth once she's done speaking. No matter how much she confuses him, and no matter how fucking angry she makes him, he wouldn't want to be staring at anybody else right now.
"I loved you then, too" he whispers, "I didn't know it. I didn't know anything until you left me. I knew you meant everything to me, I knew you were the only one I trusted so deeply. But the second I lost you, I felt empty."
He presses his forehead against her collarbones, her heart beating quickly against his neck. She sighs, her fingers intertwining with his against her lap as her hips slide more towards the edge, her knees supporting the sides of his chest.
"Didn't matter that I had Savannah. She was lovely, don't get me wrong, but she wasn't you. I tried so hard to make myself believe I was just missing you as a friend, but there was nothing that convinced me."
His tearful eyes looked into hers, both chuckling slightly at their current state. They're both crying, both their hearts racing in their chests. If someone were to tell them now that there's a feeling even remotely close to how beautiful they feel now, together, they wouldn't have believed it for a second.
Y/n wipes away the loose tears on his cheeks while she sniffles, giggling softly at how stupid they probably look.
"I've always loved you, Harry," she whispers, "there'll never be a time that I stop. No matter how hard I try, my love for you is stronger."
It's when the words fall from her lips that Harry realizes all he needed was for her to hear her say it. Her voice is so sweet as she says it, too, and her eyes leave no trace of doubt when she looks into him.
He tries to hold back the irresistible urge to kiss her, but it's completely impossible. His lips press softly against hers, both of them releasing moans at just how right it feels to be kissing one another.
And after a while, their kiss isn't the slightest bit romantic. It's harsh, it's desperate, it's messy but it's just what they need.
Harry crawls on top of her, his hands on every part of her they can touch. He groans when he feels her nails scratch down his back, leaving her giggling underneath him.
"Nobody makes me feel the way you do, Y/n. Nobody."