Oh, take me back to
the night we met
***
A/N:
I'm sorry if this chapter is a little messy :/.
***
Harry's POV:
*slam*
The call ended.
Silence engulfed the room as I stood, motionless, feeling my body tense up. My grip loosened over my phone as reality sunk in. She was gone. My phone goes smashing down to the floor, leaving my hand frozen by my ear.
*bang*
It hits the floor, and I feel the tiny shards of glass shatter everywhere over my bare feet. A lump grows in my throat as I struggle to hold back my overwhelming emotions of anger and sadness. Running my hand through my hair, I watch the blood pool out of my feet and onto my dark oak floor.
"NOO!" I shout, as I bend down and hit all my ornaments off my table - sending them flying over the room. Blinded in a fit of rage, I walk over to my mirror, fists clenched either side of me, and stare at myself. My veins protruded out of my neck and temple as my eyes darkened with rage. Raising my hand, I forcefully slammed it against my reflection, feeling the glass pierce my skin.
"FUCK SAKE!" I shout again, spinning round and running to my coat stand at my front door. Throwing everything off it, I lift it over my head, and launch it down onto my coffee table, causing the legs to buckle underneath it. I turn to my side, and take my bottle of whiskey from the mantel, and down the whole thing. "Whyyyy?" I plead out, wiping away the drops that missed my mouth from my chin, and thudding my back against my door. My breathing rapids as my heart thumps against my chest. Sliding down the door, I hit the floor heavily.
Blood continues to drip out of my cut feet and fist, painting the floor a dark red. Long, aching pains overtook my stomach as my heart continued to pound against my chest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. Every time I breathed, my heart strained against itself. Every time I tried to move, my body seized up and I became paralysed in pain. Every time I blinked I was met with the painful image of Primrose's face.
Tears streamed down my numb face, as I sat there, lifeless. "I deserve this." I say to myself, as salty droplets hit my lower lip. "I deserve this pain."
I should've told her: I should've told Primrose who I was. It was selfish of me to keep that from her. How could I have been so stupid? This poor girl, who clearly is so naive towards modern day, trusted me. She trusted me to stay with her, to call her, to have her address... and I threw it all away. Just like she threw away the address. It was a mistake writing her. She didn't deserve this. My poor girl, probably heartbroken right now. I bet she's crying, I bet she's hurting. And it's my fault. My fault. I did this to her, I did this to me.
Forcing my eyes to focus, I'm met with the reality of my actions. Blood plasters my room as broken glass tainted with my flesh lay shattered across the floor. I slam my head back against the door, as I continue to cry to myself, desperately trying to relieve the pain I'm feeling.
"Please... Take me back." I plead out, hoping for a miracle. "Take me back to the night we met." I cried, feeling my raw throat strain as I spoke.
I sat against the door for the next 3 hours, motionless, the only movement in the room being tears slowly gliding down my face. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to move. I fought with myself back and forth in my head about if Primrose was worth crying over. The short answer is yes, and the long answer... is yes. I've been captivated on her since I first lay eyes on her. She's so innocent and pure, yet has a side to her so serious and powerful. She's accomplished so much for her age; she's mature yet has the ability to be goofy. Life just doesn't seem right, knowing that we ended before even starting.
I need to clear my head.
Weakly, I pulled myself up - not bothering to look at the mess I created - and open the door. As soon as I rose, the alcohol sunk in, and my vision blurred as my head spun rapidly. My legs trembled beneath me as I wobbled my way into my bathroom. Digging through my cupboards, I retrieved some bandages and disinfectant, and wrapped my cuts neatly.
Stumbling out into the hall, I dragged myself to my front door, grabbed my shoes and shoved my feet into them - wincing at the pain as I tied them up. I didn't bother to look at the time, I didn't bother to take a coat, I just left, slamming my door behind me.
Throwing my hands into my jeans pocket, I paced down the dimly lit streets, keeping my eyes firmly on the pavement. Did I know where I was going? Nope. Did I care? Not one bit.
The cold air bit at my raw face as I turned a corner onto the main streets of London. As I went to cross the road, I bumped shoulders with someone. "Hey! What the-," I began shouting, but immediately fell silent when my eyes fell on the small, delicate figure in front of me.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, please forgive me." She pleaded, covering her mouth with her hands in shock that she knocked into me. She took a few steps forward, causing the street light to shine directly onto her face.
Primrose?
"I- uhh. It's fine, are you okay?" I ramble out, in shock that she doesn't recognise me.
"Yes, I'm fine thank you."
"Primrose? It's me - Harry." I tell her, hoping she recognises me.
"Umm, sorry... I'm not Primrose. My name is Emily. Did I knock into your head? Are you sure your okay?" She continued to ask, clearly concerned for me. It's weird - she looks like Primrose, but doesn't sound like her one bit.
"Sorry, rough night. You seem very familiar though. I'm Harry." I laugh, still trying to think where I've seen her before.
"I wish I could say the same for you." She laughs back awkwardly. That's when it hits me - where I've seen her before. When I went out for coffee with Louis a few days ago, I saw her. She was sat in the window, alone, and I thought it was Primrose. My god they look similar.
"Are you heading anywhere right now?" I ask.
"I was actually on my way home from getting a cup of coffee."
Of course she was.
"Do you maybe want to come back to mine?" I ask delicately, not wanting to intimidate her.
"Umm, well... err," she stutters. "Yeah, why not!" She answers, before snaking her hand around my arm so we are now linked.
As I walked her back to my house, I couldn't help but think to myself 'what the fuck am I doing?'. This is so unlike me: I never pick up random girls off the streets and bring them to my house. Maybe it's the alcohol. I just have this deep, aching desire for Primrose, and maybe getting with someone that looks like her will ease that pain. Maybe it will help me move on.
We walked in silence, the only sound filling the awkward void being her heels against the damp pavement. "We're here." I tell her, as I push my front door open. She enters, examining my front room intently as she takes off her coat.
"You have a beautiful home, Harry." She compliments. I don't reply, I just kick my shoes off and walk over to the couch.
"Care for a drink?" I offer, while pouring myself a glass of wine. It's always been a thing for me - to have alcohol scattered around the house. I'm not an alcoholic - I just like how medieval it looks. They're nice decorations.
"Sure." Emily responds, before perching herself on the end of my couch. As much as her and Primrose share the same looks - the curly hair, the freckles, the blue eyes, the natural curvy figure - Emily had no excitement to her. Talking to Primrose made all my nerves electrified, she was like a constant high. Emily just... agrees with everything. She's rather bland.
I throw myself down onto the couch, feeling my drunk head ache at the sudden fall. Emily takes a sip of her wine, before leaning forward and placing it on the table. While she does so, her skirt rises significantly around her thighs. I can tell she knows it's done that, because she smiled to herself as she sat back and saw how short her skirt now was.
I stare at her, watching intently for her next move.
"You know..." she began, leaning over to get closer to me. "...I feel a bit frustrated, right now." She smirked, giving me a shameless once over.
When I bought her here, did I intend to get with her? No. Am I apposed to it? No.
"How so?" I ask, leaning forward.
"Sexually frustrated. Know anything I can do to help?" She flirts, as she tucks her hair behind her ear.
"I might know something." I whisper, drawing my lips to hover over hers. I feel her breath suddenly speed up, as she stares down at my lips.
"Help me then." She teases, lightly grazing her lips over mine.
Before I know it, I'm smashing my lips into hers, kissing her roughly as I pull down her dress straps. She runs her fingers frantically through my messy hair, before trailing her hands down my chest and unbuttoning my shirt. Clothes fly across the room as we engage in an array of teeth, tongues and touching.
I lay her down, leaning over her dominantly.
"You're gonna regret agreeing to come here."
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A/N:
Didn't see that one coming did you?? ;)
I am OBSESSED with that song. I listened to it while writing the chapter: I saw Harry in a blinded fit of rage and heartache, with that song playing in the background.