A/N: you guys, I'm so so sorry for these slow updates. I've just been exhausted recently and didn't want to publish work I wasn't happy with. Hope you understand x
Primrose's POV:
Today was September 10th, 9 days before Harry goes on tour. I've offered to come down to London and help him get organised for his travels, but in actuality, he thinks I'm coming to learn about what I'm going to do on tour. I still haven't told him I'm not coming - I can't, it'll crush him. Saying I would come was a slip up - a mistake - and unfortunately, I now have to pay the consequences.
The trip down was short, well... as short as it could be. Purposely taking the earliest train possible really payed off. Harry picked me up in his Range Rover, and as soon as the black doors separated us from the outside world, he would not stop talking about tour.
"So, P, I've asked my stylists to organise a few outfits for you whilst we are away, incase we go anywhere super fancy - not to say you don't have nice clothes already, but I just didn't want you panicking. Then, on the days where you don't want to watch me play a show, because I just assume you will get bored, you can hang in the dressing rooms, stay in our hotel, go out into town, whatever you see fit. In terms of travelling, my manager has booked private jets for sufficient travel, so you don't need to worry about airports this time. Jeff said try and stick to 2 suitcases maximum. I know we are travelling for around 4 months, but try and not overpack. On the morning of the 18th, we set off for our first show. Ooo! We start in San Francisco. You'll love it there. It's one of my-,"
"Okay, Harry!" I snap accidentally, closing my eyes and rubbing the bridge of my nose with my thumb and pointer finger in attempt to soothe the aching in my head.
"-favourite place..." he finishes his sentence, trailing off into silence as he continues to drive. I looked over and noticed the glum expression on his face: he seemed tired, and disappointed. Placing my hand softly over his which was resting on my thigh, I interlocked our fingers - feeling the warmth of his palm against my cold hand.
"Harry... I didn't mean that." I say quietly, keeping my eyes focused on the road as looking at Harry so sad was too difficult. "It's just a lot to take in, you know?"
Harry takes a deep breath in, lifting his hand with mine still over it, and bringing it to his mouth. "I know." He whispered against my pale skin, before cushioning his lips against it. "M'just excited." He mumbles, returning his hand to my leg.
I don't respond, giving Harry a subtle smile, before turning to look out the passenger window. My mind was littered with thoughts as we continued to drive home. Varying ways on how to break the news to Harry fought for dominance in my head, yet none succeeded. None seemed good enough. None seemed reasonable enough to justify lying, and then ripping this pure, innocent, joy and happiness away from him. This would break him - whether he let me see it or not - I know it would. Based on the way he simply couldn't stop talking about what we'd do together, it was no secret he wanted me there.
We pulled into his driveway, both unbuckling our seatbelts and Harry practically sprinting round the car to beat me to opening the door first. Helping me out the car, he went to the boot and pulled my suitcase out, before we both headed inside.
"Prim!" Harry yelled from the kitchen, snapping my attention away from the beautiful flower arrangement in his hallway. Entering the room, I saw Harry stood next to an open cupboard, smiling widely with his hands behind his back.
"What's happening?" I laugh in confusion, hesitantly approaching in fear of getting pranked or something. Harry stayed silent as I approached his side, reluctantly forcing my eyes to meet the open cupboard. I blinked a few times, trying to figure out why I was staring at a shelf of snacks. "What is it?"
"It's your shelf." Harry says proudly, hugging his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to his chest - littering kisses on my forehead.
"My shelf?" I ask, turning to face him.
"Yep. All your favourite snacks in one, organised place for you." Harry explains.
My eyes widen at the realisation of what he's done, and my arms involuntarily shoot around his stomach, engulfing him in a tight hug. "You're. The. Cutest!" I say, giving him a quick kiss in between every word. Shifting to face the cupboard again, I trace my eyes over the numerous snacks and drinks he'd put in here.
Iced Gems
Dark chocolate
Cookie Crisp Cereal
Nescafé instant coffee sachets
Mini pretzels
McCoy's Salt and Vinegar crisps
Dried berries
Strawberry bonbons
Apple juice
"Iced gems are a personal favourite." Harry says quietly, as if to himself, moving his arm so he could glance at his small tattoo of an iced gem.
"My gran always bought them for me when I was younger." I answer, pulling the multi pack down and opening it, taking two smaller bags out. Tearing open the thin plastic, I retrieve a white gem, and turn to face Harry. His eyes flick between mine and the gem, as I hold it in between us. Without saying a word, I bring the small biscuit of nostalgia up to his lips, which he voluntarily opens, and lay it neatly in his mouth. He smirks as I pull my hand away, and I watch his jaw muscles flex as he moves the gem into a comfortable position. Before he could finish chewing, I lay a long kiss into his lips, as the sweetness of his gem danced in my mouth.
Pulling away, I looked down to Harry's hand, and placed the closed packet into his hand. We both smile at each-other, sharing the same look of happiness. "Thank you for my cupboard, I love it." I hum, taking Harry's free hand in mine and leading him out of the kitchen.
We spent the next hour or so telling one another about our weeks, and what we'd been up to in the time we hadn't seen each other. It was nice to talk to Harry like this - it made that pit of anxiousness melt away for a few moments as I forgot the awful news I was yet to break. But, it didn't take long for Harry to find his way back to the conversation of tour.
"So, what did Angel say about you touring with me?" He asks, throwing another gem into his mouth.
"He, uhh... he was fine about it." I brush off the question.
Harry looks at me suspiciously from the other side of the sofa, squinting his eyes like he was trying to figure something out. "Are you okay? You seem tense." He asks, as I awkwardly reposition myself on the cushion.
"Fine." I reply shortly. "Just traveling makes my head foggy." I lie, watching as the harsh expression slowly fades from Harry's face.
I was becoming agitated, and my ability to hide it was crumbling. I was wearing thin with this whole situation. The lies, the secrets, the fear of upsetting H... it was exhausting. And, every time Harry spoke about tour, it got harder and harder to act like I was excited, and act like I was listening. In reality, I was screaming. My head was exploding with thoughts of sadness, anger and stress, desperate for relief... and I still didn't know how I was going to tell him.
"You're going to love Paris. It's so beautiful. There's this stunning cafe a few minutes away from our hotel..." Harry began to talk away, and I felt the tension in my bones build to such an unbearable state I couldn't help but fidget. "...croissants, and coffee, and an amazing selection of..." My leg began to twitch as I bought my hand to my mouth and nervously chewed at my nails. "...Then, when we go to Japan, oh my god will you love Japan. It's probably one of my top ten places..." I began looking for something else to focus my attention on. Darting my head out the window, I tried to focus on one thing, yet there was so much happening it was impossible. I felt the hammering of my heart against my chest, as the sound of the deep, rapid, hitting slowly took over Harry's speech. "...the jet lag is pretty bad, but-,"
"Stop, Harry!" I yell, jumping to my feet in need for relief. "I can't do this anymore. I- I can't. It's unbearable!" I say in frustration, pacing up and down the room.
"What?" Harry says extremely quietly, in shock at my outburst.
"Lie! I can't sit here, and lie to your face. I can't let you talk about all the amazing things we are doing on tour together. I can't listen to the excitement in your voice, without becoming overwhelmed with guilt, and regret for telling you in the first place that I would come on tour with you." I force out, continuing to walk up and down his lounge.
"You mean..."
"I mean, I'm not coming on tour with you, Harry." I finally say, feeling a weight fall from my shoulders, as I take a silent breath of relief. Harry looks at me in shock, sitting up in his seat as his jaw hangs slack. My feet - filled with energy - continue to walk over the rough wood floor of his living room. "I shouldn't have told you I was going to come. I didn't mean to, it just slipped out. You were so stressed about leaving me, that I just wanted to calm you down. But now, I've created an even bigger problem. It was selfish of me to say that, and it's even more selfish of me to snap at you. Harry, I'm sorry." I run to the sofa and fall down next to him, placing my hand on his thigh in attempted sympathy.
"I'm so sorry I've done this to you. I could tell how excited you were to have me on tour with you. And... I'm such an ass to take that away from you." I explain, yet Harry refused to make eye contact with me. "I should've told you sooner, I should of never lied to you. And, I just hope you're okay, Harry. You can tell me if you're sad." I reason, shaking his leg to get him to look at me.
His eyes snap onto mine, yet his deep green emeralds were long gone. They'd been replaced by grey, hooded eyes. They were sad. They were angry. They were disappointed. They held an array of emotions that Harry couldn't vocalise all at once. And, I didn't blame him.
"I'm fine." He says quickly, blinking a few times.
"Are you sure?" I question, noticing his eyes gradually glossing over.
"Positive." He finishes, quickly wiping his nose before rising to his feet. "I'm going for a shower." Harry says abruptly, using his long stride to carry him out the room.
"Harry!" I yell, jumping up to chase after him. As I began to race up the stairs, I heard his bedroom door slam. Swiftly opening the heavy door, I saw Harry's bathroom door slowly shutting. Just as I went to grab the handle, the latch clicked shut, and the low hum of the shower filled the silence between us.
My head slammed against the door, as I groaned out in frustration at myself; my back falling against the door as I sunk to the floor in exhaustion. "Fuck sake." I mumble to myself, hanging my head in my hands. I sat for a few moments, letting the throbbing in my head ease and the pounding in my heart settle. This isn't how I wanted this to go. I wasn't expecting this to go well in the first place, but, I didn't think it would go like this.
Is this how Harry felt...
When I got assaulted in that bar: when I kept saying I was fine, and only needed to shower, then locked myself in the bathroom. He was on this side of the door, listening, thinking, waiting for me to come out. Probably preparing for the worst. It's very isolating, knowing the person you care for the most is physically only on the other side of a door, but mentally, they are trapped behind miles and miles of brick walls and barbed wire. Reaching Harry seems impossible right now, yet it's as easy as opening a door.
However, I didn't want to open the door.
Harry closed me out for a reason. What kind of a person would I be to force my way in? I know that when I needed to be alone, I would've killed Harry if he invaded my space. So, I'm giving him the same respect.
I say up, keeping my knees hugged close to my chest, but resting my head against the glossy wood of the door. The sound of the shower pattering against the base of Harry's shower was all I could hear. That and... a sniffle.
Rolling my head so my cheek was now flat against the door, I pressed my ear as close to the wood as I could, trying to see if I was hearing things.
There it was again... A sniffle!
Harry was crying.
He was crying, because of me.
He was in there, crying, because I lied to him.
A rush of sickness and guilt radiated in my stomach, as my mouth became increasingly dry. I took a deep breath in, swallowing harshly in attempt to push down my emotions. Slowly standing up, the door was now in front of me. My fist clenched into a fist, and I bought it up to rest against the door. Taking a few moments, I built up the confidence to lay three, light knocks into the door.
*knock knock knock*
I waited for any sound of movement, yet nothing. A small breath of fear shot up into my nose, as I prepared myself to knock louder. It's not actually the knocking I'm scared of, it's Harry's reaction. I don't want him to get more upset, or angry, or for him to feel like I'm invading.
I'm just trying to help.
I blame the way I am on Dan. And, I hate to blame everything on him, but at times I have to. Before I met him, I had confidence - I wasn't the most confident, but a lot more than I am now. Then, I met Dan. I remember our first argument, and he stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. After a few moments, I walked in and asked if he was okay.
This was the start of our relationships downfall.
He got 1 inch away from my face, screamed at me, called me the most disgusting names, he watched me helplessly crying, begging him to stop yelling, and he continued. But, to be honest, I was shocked. Up until then, we had a normal relationship. It's almost as if a switch flipped in his head, and he became sick of me. And, I became sick of myself. I let him walk all over me... I lost all self worth. He made me scared to do anything for myself, in fear of retaliation.
I'm scared Harry will get mad at me, and will break up with me. And, although Harry and Dan are polar opposite people, it's still a thought in the back of my mind that Harry too will leave me.
But, this is something Harry won't ever find out. I don't like telling him things like this, primarily because I view them as excuses. It's just reasons to excuse my poor behaviour, or bad qualities. I don't want our relationship to rely on past events... I want this relationship to be in the present. Where we tackle each issue with our current selves, and not use previous examples as reasons to put aside our problems instead of solving them.
Taking another breath in, I place three, heavier knocks into the door, hoping Harry can hear them over the shower.
*knock knock knock*
My body freezes as I hear the shuffling of something, yet I couldn't make out what it was. I don't care - it's movement! A few, tedious seconds later, the door swung open, to reveal Harry, stood in a towel with a few water droplets trickling down his toned stomach, the shower still on, and a cloud of warm steam leaving the room. His eyes were red, as if he'd gotten soap in them. But, his hair was hardly wet enough to of been washed.
Harry sniffled again, blinking a few times like he was trying to focus on me. "I told you I was having a shower." He says, looking at me flatly.
"I know, but- uh... I was just checking if you were okay." I stutter out, fiddling with my bracelet in attempt to break the unspoken, awkward tension between us.
"Okay." Harry says, closing the door again. Right before it shuts fully, I shoot my hand out onto the wood, stopping the metal from clasping together.
"I heard you sniffle." I add in, hearing Harry huff as the door slowly opens again. "You would tell me if you weren't okay, right?" I question, becoming ever more suspicious at the way he's acting.
"Yes. But, I was just having a shower." Harry says again, a little more sternly.
I look him up and down, slowly coming to a realisation. "You weren't in the shower, were you?" I ask, pushing the door fully open so there was nothing blocking Harry from me.
"What are you talking abou-,"
"You've repeated that you were in the shower, twice. Which, isn't necessary for anyone who was actually showering, as you're stood in a towel, you're wet, and the showers on. It's almost as if you're trying to convince me."
I build in confidence as I speak, becoming more convinced in what I'm thinking.
"But I was in the shower?" Harry repeats, gesturing to the water behind him.
"A third time!" I raise my eyebrows, taking a step forward. "Considering you've been in the shower this whole time, you're hair is very dry. But, you're eyes are red - indicating you must've had some sort of water or soap in them. And, when you initially opened the door, your body was barely wet... You weren't in the shower, were you, Harry?" I ask again, watching him awkwardly come up with an answer.
"I- uhh... well-," he stutters.
"You can tell me the truth, Harry." I say quietly, placing my hand on his and lowering it from the door handle. "Please."
Harry looks at me hesitantly for a few moments: his chest heaving and his eyes blinking rapidly. A single, glossy tear slid down Harry's damp face, falling onto the floor in between us. We both looked down at the same time to the miniature puddle it created, and as I trailed my eyes back up, they were met with tears. Silent, invasive tears, stormed their way down Harry's cheeks, irritating his beautiful emerald into a harsh red. His lower lip quivered in a final attempt to keep composure.
Stepping forward again, I used my pointer finger to move a damp curl out of his face, before cupping his cheek with my hand, rubbing away a tear with my thumb. My lips formed into a small, sympathetic smile, as I looked at the broken boy in front of me. "It's okay." I whisper, wiping away another tear. "You're allowed to be upset."
As soon as those words drifted out my mouth, Harry let the walls down. His head fell to hang against his chest, as his hands moved to cover his face, closing my hand between his cheek and his palm. Sobs of pain and sadness echoed from Harry's throat, as he cried away his dreams of us going on tour together.
Taking a final step forward, I bring my other hand to Harry's opposite cheek, this time resting it over his hand. He was cold to the touch, almost shivering from the cold bedroom air mixing with the warm environment created by the shower. Harry continued to cry, and his chest heaved heavily up and down, up and down, desperately trying to replenish itself with oxygen. Lifting his head, I felt my eyes welling up as I came face to face with the heartbreak I'd caused.
"Harry, I'm so sorry." I whisper, my voice breaking from the lump invading my throat.
He shook his head minimally in response, peeling his eyes open to look at mine. Harry and I just looked at each other for a few moments: all we needed to say was written over our faces. We were both sad, but for very different reasons. "I'm so, so sorry I've upset you." I force out, clearing my throat mid sentence to stop myself too from crying.
"It's not your fault." Harry whispers back, blinking to clear his vision. He pulls his hands from his face, mine dropping with his, and I wrap my arms around his waist - desperate to touch him in any way in hope to relieve even the smallest amount of his pain. "I shouldn't have bought it up. I shouldn't be so scared of you being unprotected, or..." he tails off, his eyes too moving off mine.
"Or what?" I pursue, bending down slightly and cocking my head so Harry could see me.
"Or, if I wasn't so scared to be alone." He mumbles ever so quietly, so much that I almost didn't hear him. My heart strained at the sound of those words, as memories of the night Harry broke down in my arms about being lonely flooded back.
"If I could be in every moment with you, I would, Harry. You know I would. But I can't," I reply quietly, trying to answer with the most caring, but most honest answer possible to avoid a repeat of this situation.
Harry nods, lifting his head to level with mine again. "And I'd never ask you to be. That would be selfish." He sniffs, and another, icy tear trickles down his cheek. "But, when you said you wanted to come on tour with me, I saw a time period where you were in every moment with me, where I wasn't alone. I was selfish, and I ran with it. I made you feel like you couldn't tell me no."
"It's okay to be selfish sometimes, Harry." I say, drawing my fingers up and down his back delicately.
"Not with you, it's not." He mumbles back. Harry leans forward and lays a kiss into my lips, resting his forehead against mine. Our hot breaths mixed in between us, as I couldn't find the right words to say. No words seemed acceptable for this moment. I just wanted Harry.
Drifting one arm back from around Harry's waist, I lock our fingers and guide him out the bathroom, into his bedroom. Perching on the end of his bed, I signal for him to sit down next to me. The bed dips as Harry sat on the end of the bed also, his dark curls resting on my shoulder as he lowered his head onto me. I ran my fingers through his hair, resting them at the back of his head and creating comforting circles against his skin.
"Why do we always end up here?" I ask quietly, fearful to break the calmness finally between us.
"Where?" Harry asks in response, keeping his head on my shoulder.
"In situations where one of us is hurt." I say back, resting my head on his and kissing his forehead lightly.
Harry doesn't say anything for a few moments as he looks into the distance of his room, like he's gathering his thoughts. "Because no relationship is perfect, no matter how much you want it to be."
"But, we shouldn't be hurting each other like this, Harry. Intentional or not." I reason.
"The world is a cruel place, Primrose: it will constantly test us and push us to our limits until we turn on one another." Harry explains, lifting his head to face me. "But don't worry... We'll get our happiness one day." He says, our eyes locked on one another's.
"Not if we keep arguing like this we won't." I mumble, my eyes falling from Harry's to my lap.
"Hey, P. Don't say that." Harry brings his hand under my chin, carefully raising my head to look back at him. My eyes reluctantly trail up to look at Harry's eyes, and I watch as he leans forward ever so slowly, kissing my lips so meaningfully yet so gracefully. "We'll be alright."
***
A/N:
how was your day today x