#antiodote

harry, who was also a self-proclaimed workaholic, saw how much it was tearing at her and could practically smell the burnout from miles and miles away. it didn’t help that her boss didn't believe in words of affirmation and just piled on more work for her to do every chance she got. harry knew that it was eating away at her, he knew that her way of coping, which was not at all, would eventually come back to bite her in the ass. in any other situation he probably would have done something. he keeps telling her to take a break and to rest a bit; the hypocrisy of it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them, though. truthfully, harry was also as busy as ever. with the release of his new album, movie promotions and public appearances, he rarely has time to rest himself.

before their lives got all too complicated, they had plenty of time to spend together, even with their already busy schedule. they’d go on hikes and cook and watch movies; they were a proper couple. happy and unbothered. shielded from any and all obstacles. maybe they both knew, deep down, that their honeymoon phase was coming to an end. to them, however, that seemed like it was light-years away.

and yet, here they were.

it was the umpteenth time that she had returned from work at an ungodly hour, even later than harry. he usually left to go to the studio after making breakfast for the both of them, and usually, neither of them would end up eating most of it. harry used to playfully bug her about her eating habits. he tried reminding her of the importance of three meals a day, every day. she brushed it off then and it was fine; now, however, it worries and agitates harry to no end. this morning she had left without so much as looking at it, once again. she bid her rushed goodbye and chose to forego a peck on the lips. she had forgotten so much lately that harry began to wonder if it had been on purpose, but since he isn’t the kind to ask for affection he guesses he will never know.

they meet for what feels like the first time that day in their shared bedroom. she comes in with her bag in tow and exhaustion written all over her features and it pained harry to see her like that. however, he too was feeling more than exhausted. it became harder and harder to feel sorry for her if he was being honest with himself. not when he felt like it was preventable.

“hi.”

“hello.”

silence.

“I’m sorry for coming home late again. I know it’s been happening too much. I don’t mean to…” she tried explaining herself as she did so often. harry understood and he wasn’t mad, but the defeat in his demeanour was palpable.

“it’s alright, came home late myself. how was work?“

“same old. how was the studio?”

“fine.” a lie.

harry had been having trouble writing as of late. everything he did write was either too sad to release or just not good at all. apparently, the way their relationship was falling apart seemed to directly affect his creative writing process. it was a mess, truly. he didn’t have the heart to tell her that though. he didn’t want to make her feel more guilty than she probably already did.

“okay, good.”

harry returned to reading his book, albeit halfheartedly, while she was busy looking at him - really looking at him - for the first time in ages. she is shocked to find him looking so… defeated? she wants to beat herself up for not noticing the prominence of his under-eye bags, the dullness of his skin, and even the way his hair looks unkempt and tousled. does she also look this restless? she realises, then and there, that they haven’t made proper conversation for the better part of 6 weeks, and she can’t help but feel like it’s her fault. she knows they have both been very busy, but had she made an effort to do something to at least save her relationship? she doesn’t think so.

“so, uh, we haven’t talked in a while, huh?” she sets her bag by the door and moves to her side of the bed, her side facing him while she removes her jewellery. harry sets his book down as well, hoping they would finally be able to break the cycle. the moonlight shines brightly into their bedroom window, illuminating the side of her face. if the situation was different, he might tell her how beautiful she looks, despite her visible fatigue. he doesn’t know what’s stopping him if he’s honest. what he doesn’t know is that when she faces him and sees how the warm light from the lamp on his bedside table illuminates his features, her breath oh so subtly hitches, too. she thought he was beautiful, always. like the sun, always illuminating. unfortunately, his light seemed dull lately.

fire and ice; the sun and the moon facing one another. that’s what they represent. so close, yet so far away. they used to dance in unison, but they seemed to have forgotten how to dance. why? what happened to them? it felt like they both knew, and yet? they didn’t know what to do.

except she thought she did.

she moved closer to him, fully sitting on the bed now. her blouse pulled out of her trousers, her hair down and her glasses thrown aside somewhere. facing him, she took the book out of his grasp and bent over his stretched-out legs to put it back on his nightstand. she made sure to let her chest graze over his crotch. she wanted to dance again, in a different way. a way they used to have perfected. the last time they danced was way too long ago, though, but she hopes they still remember the steps.

he held his breath, not quite knowing what to do just yet. where was this going? he wasn’t entirely sure and he didn’t want to risk fucking it up. this was the first time she had been close to him in what feels like forever and he missed her touch so much that it hurt. she moved back into a seated position, facing him.

“tell me something. anything. I miss your voice.”

he looks at her, puzzled. what could he tell her? he wrecked his brain for something, anything to tell her. something that wasn’t too boring or too sad. he found himself feeling insecure, for whatever reason. so, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he decides to listen to his heart and let his mind stop working for a bit. this was his love, he would be fine. he knew how to talk to her, he was fine. he was fine.

he opens his eyes again and speaks.

“well, mitch and sarah might want to try for another baby. they’ve been loving parenthood, it seems. I think it really suits them, too. and, uh, jeff and I have been talking about tour dates, which is always a hassle, as you know. oh! I might have to go to italy to reshoot some scenes for the movie. um, yeah.” his monologue was cut short by the sheer fact that he doesn’t know what else to talk about. the oxygen in the room seems to lessen by the second and his throat feels tight. why was he like this? could he not just act normal right now? why did he feel the need to talk to her about how he felt like they were falling apart? and how that was scaring the hell out of him? losing her seemed like such an unrealistic concept not too long ago, whereas now it feels like it’s just around the corner. he feels constricted and he hated every second of it.

“that’s nice, hm? mitch and sarah having another baby? god, I hope it works out for them. it would give you more godfather duties.” she tries to lighten the mood and it works, if only for a second. harry wants to ask her about her day, as well. however, listening to her work struggles right now would be sure to set him off, so he decides against it. and thus, silence falls heavy upon them, once more.

“what happened to us, love?”

he spoke up, his voice sounding uncharacteristically little. he voiced his fear.

here we go.

“I used to be able to talk to you for, what, hours? without any problems. but now it just feels so…different. why?”

he faces her and finds an apologetic look on her face, probably mirroring his own. they felt defeated. lost. what did happen to them?

she sighed heavily, not even trying to deny anything. “I…I don’t know, harry. I don’t know.” a beat of silence lingered again. “I miss us. I miss you, all the time. I don’t like what happened to us, it’s like we drifted apart, don’t you think?” he says. his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest at any given moment with how nervous and stressed he felt.

“do you still love me?” he asks, knowing just how pathetic he must sound. she replies instantly. “of course I do, harry. always. do you still love me?”

“yes, I do. so much.”

her fear turned into desperation. she had to do something, and she had to do it now. she moves closer to him, their faces now mere inches apart. she laces her hand into his own, slowly and carefully, afraid to do something wrong. she looks at him once more and tries not to wince at how dull his eyes looked. if she dwelled any longer on how it might have something to do with her, she might collapse. so, urgently, she moves their joined hands onto his lap.

“good. let me show you how much I love you then. please, can I?”

their hands apply pressure on their resting spot just over his crotch, clearly sending a message. he closes his eyes and relishes the feeling. he felt like they should talk first, to work through any of the problems they might be experiencing. he couldn’t bring himself to do it, though. because right now, the only thought in his mind was how he needed to feel close to her, immediately. he felt selfish, but couldn’t bring himself to care. so he nods. “please.” and in an instant, she moves closer.

their lips attach. relief floods him.

there she was. his moonlight.

heat surrounds them, quicker than they’d care to admit, and everything felt good, for once. the world stopped, and it was just the two of them. nothing else mattered. he was feeling her again, and it was good.

she moves to sit on his lap with her thighs surrounding his own. her hands migrate to his scalp to tangle them through his hair, the way she knew he liked. he moved his own hands to her blouse, desperate to take it off, desperate to feel her. he undoes the buttons and slides it off her shoulders, removing her hands from his head in the process. their mouths move in unison, their movements are rushed and desperate. they needed this. they needed to feel connected like only they knew how. in a rush to feel her skin, he peels off her sports bra, leaving her in nothing but her dress pants. his hands find her chest and in an instant, he starts playing her like an instrument, gaining a plethora of sweet whines from her. she grinds down on him, feeling the growth in his trousers. everything is hot, rushed and filled with need; their arousal growing by the second. she detaches her mouth from his to take a breath, a string of saliva connecting them, still.

“fuck, harry. please, please. I need… I need, god-“

he didn’t wait for her to finish before attaching his mouth to her nipple, sucking harshly. a high-pitched whine leaves her and she grinds down harder, making him groan. he uses his other hand to play with her other breast, and when he moves his head to lick a bold stripe in between the valley of her chest, squeezing her tits in his way, he wonders if this is heaven. this, or the treasure between her thighs. as soon as the thought enters his brain, he detaches himself from her chest in an attempt to move them into a laying position.

“need to taste you, angel. please, let me-“

“no, harry, please. need to feel you. need to feel you inside, please. need to feel full.”

they make eye contact and he contemplates her words. “you can taste me whenever else you want, honey. just need to feel you in me now, okay?” she says, with her hands in his hair once more. he closes his eyes and basks in the comfort she radiates. she was truly remarkable. and truthfully, he couldn’t possibly think of a better sensation than to be berried deep within her walls.

“yeah, okay angel. let me make you feel good, hmm?”

“yes, god yes. thank you, thank you, thank you.”

she lifts herself from her position on his lap and steps off the bed. they simultaneously remove any remaining articles of clothing, leaving nothing but naked skin in sight. she kneels onto the bed once more, resuming her previous position. harry's hands roam all over her body, squeezing her behind and finally resting on her love handles.

“you’re unbelievable. so fucking stunning, god. kiss me, please.”

she grants his wish momentarily, letting his tongue roam freely. they were in ecstasy, purely and utterly consumed with one another. she blindly reaches for his length underneath her, gripping him at the base and gifting him a few languid strokes. her thumb finds his tip and she starts spreading any and all precum around, preparing him. he moans, no, whines into her mouth, his eyes screwed shut in utmost pleasure.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. please, baby, I can’t take it. let me feel you, now.”

she smiled, kissing his nose. she loved his eagerness and how he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry, baby.”

and so, she moves to sit down and truly, she couldn’t wait to feel him, as she had really, really missed it. terribly so.

she guides him inside, preparing herself mentally for the highest form of pleasure she had ever experienced-

or…not?

“ah, fuck! wait, hold on-“

she couldn’t get him inside, but not because of his size. no, she just so happens to be bone dry. no arousal was surrounding her, not even a little bit. this had never happened before, and it left her at a loss. she looks down again, just to make sure that she was feeling it correctly. and there it was, nothing. she should be dripping by now, especially with how turned on she was, but alas, the contrary seemed to be the case.

she looks at him now, helplessly, and at a loss for what to do.

“what’s wrong, you okay? not feeling up to it? we can stop-“

“no! no, absolutely not. I want this so bad, you have no idea. I don’t know what’s happening, honestly. I- I- maybe I can- or we could-“

he grabs her by the jaw, grounding her for a moment. his eyes search for hers, offering reason and calm, and relief floods her as she sees how his eyes look more alive than they did a few minutes ago.

“hey, hey, calm down. you’re okay, petal.” a kiss. “let me just get the lube, yeah? don’t worry about it.” she takes a deep breath. “yeah, okay. thank you.” another kiss.

he reaches over to his bedside table, opening the little drawer underneath. located in-between packs of condoms, some melatonin tablets and an emergency pack of cigarettes, he finally found what he was looking for: the small bottle of water-based lube. neither of them exchange words, just glances, as he shuts the drawer, opens the bottle, and squirts some of the product on his hand. once the bottle is closed and set aside, he uses his clean hand to guide her slightly upwards, freeing him from the delicious confines of her thighs. he then spreads the product on and around his length, wincing slightly at the cool temperature. once he feels like he’s coated himself sufficiently, he guides her down once more.

“tell me if it hurts and I stop, okay?”

she nods.

deep breaths. shaky hands. unsure glances.

and then…

“oh my god.”

euphoria.

“holy shit, baby. fuck. so fucking perfect for me, aren’t you? jesus.”

she sinks all the way down his length, filling her up to the brim. her head is thrown back and her mouth agape in pleasure, not a single sound escaping her for the first few moments. that is until he starts thrusting up and into her.

“good god, harry, fuck!” the delicious stretch of her walls made her want to scream, a feeling that she doesn’t think she could ever get tired of. “please don’t stop, oh my god!” her words only encouraged him more, making sure to keep his pace steady and to hit her spot every single time. with her head still thrown back and her jaw slack, harry took the opportunity to just stare at her pleasure-filled face, which only got him off more. she always looked beautiful, but like this? she was unbelievable. he thinks at that moment that he should probably write a song about it.

a particularly hard thrust made her snap forward. “fucking hell, I feel you in my tummy.” she laced her hands around his jaw and rested her forehead against his own, staring deeply into his eyes and stealing the occasional kiss. harry took this moment to steady her hips and thrust up into her with such vigour, that her eyes rolled all the way back into her skull. she had to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hug him close to stabilise herself. and then, something weird happened.

usually, with the way he was pounding into her and with how he was moaning straight into her ear, she would be done in seconds. however, now that his face was no longer in her line of sight, her mind started clouding itself with other images.

“make sure you get this back to me by the end of the day. no more slacking off.”

she squeezed her eyes shut. this couldn’t be happening, not now.

“you have to do this over entirely, this is not what I had in mind at all.”

god, no. no, no, no!

“this is unbelievably sloppy, you cannot be serious, right? you’re staying late today, this is unacceptable.”

what the actual fuck was happening?

“baby, you okay?”

her eyes opened wide in an instant. he tried prying her arms away so he could look at her properly. she, however, only hugged him closer.

“yes! yes, I’m good. so fucking good.” she made sure to make her voice extra sultry, grinding down on him to make it all more believable. she cannot let him know that she got ridiculously close to having an anxiety attack in the middle of what was supposed to be mind-boggling sex.

he couldn’t help but groan at her actions, however, he continued. “you sure? your heart is beating very fast. do you- ah!- do you need some water, maybe?” he tumbled over his words as she made sure to squeeze her walls tight to shut him up.

“I’m okay, I don’t need anything. just need you to make me come, please.” she continued squeezing him, both with her arms and her walls until he was putty in her hands. no more words left him as he started thrusting up into her once again, moaning at the sensation her delicious pussy was giving him.

“you feel fucking unreal right now, angel. how do you feel, tell me? please, god, tell me.” he was begging for her, another thing that could usually make her come in an instant. right now, however, she really didn’t think that it was going to happen anytime soon.

how was she feeling? well, for starters, she was feeling embarrassed and confused because somehow, she didn’t get wet when her hot shot of a boyfriend practically devoured her tits and called her angelic, especially because she thought she was super turned on to begin with. and as if that wasn’t enough, she was now drowning in mental images and intrusive thoughts of her workplace and her bitch of a boss, which was the very thing that is currently tearing at her relationship. and she worried, that if she doesn’t get her shit together immediately, she might not come at all. so, fake it till you make it, she guessed.

“fuck, harry, I feel so fucking good. y’make me feel so. fucking. good.” slurring her words and repeating simple sentences; that should be enough to convince him that it’s genuine. she was trying to get into it again, but so far, nothing. she made sure to grind down and twist her hips how she knew he loved. on top of it all, she nibbled at his neck, jaw and ear to really get him going. and she knew it was working when his whines got louder with each thrust.

“shit baby, you feel bloody fantastic. please, god, tell me you’re close, need you to cum f’me.”

he was begging and whining for her like that was his sole purpose in this life, which made her feel all the more guilty for how her body was not reacting at all. he could very well be stroking her thumb right now, and it’d probably have the same effect. but she was determined to make him feel good, both physically and mentally, because he deserved it. the last thing she wanted to do was to make him feel guilty about something that he had nothing to do with.

so, she did what any other stupidly in-love woman would do: she faked her fucking orgasm.

“harry, god, fuck, I’m so close- I-“

“yeah, angel? let go f’me, get my cock all wet, c’mon.”

and that’s exactly what she did, or at least, tried to make him believe.

“god fucking- ah!”

and with all the core strength that she had, she squeezed her walls incredibly tight around him. she even tried to put some pressure on her bladder to maybe release some fluids, just to make it more believable. she was all too aware of his eyes on her, staring in awe at her alleged release. and just like she hoped it would, it triggered his own release just mere moments later.

“baby, fuck! that’s it, good god, that’s- oh!”

warm fluid filled her to the brim and she thinks under any other circumstances, the sheer intensity would’ve had to trigger her own orgasm. and yet, there she was.

shame was making her blood run cold, goosebumps littered her skin and she had this sudden urge to get out of the room to forgo any awkward conversation, but she knew she wasn’t going to be that lucky.

“you okay?”

he ripped her out of her thoughts in an instant, and suddenly he was facing her. his face was soft with pleasure, a post-orgasmic glow etched his features and a tired smile was gifted to her. he looked relaxed, comfortable and most of all he looked really, really happy.

she could not mess this up.

“yeah, I’m good. you?”

“very much so, angel.” he moved his hand to her cheek and oh so very softly moved any stray hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. the silence around them felt heavy, almost deafening to her. to him, however, it was pure bliss.

they stared at each other until it became unbearable for her, so she tried to move but his hand on her waist stopped any movement in its tracks.

“wanna cuddle for a bit?”

it became apparent to her that he was holding on to this sliver of positive energy they had created. she felt flattered over the fact that he wanted her around. the feeling however quickly dissipated and was replaced with guilt, shame and fear. she had to be by herself for a bit, she needed to get her head straight.

“let me just do my thing in the loo really quick, okay? i’ll be back before you know it, darling.” she reasoned. he nods, gives her a chaste kiss on the lips and nose, and lets her go. a hiss leaves both of them as she removes herself from him and she makes sure to keep the mess to a minimum. without looking back, she quickly walks to their shared bathroom, locking the door behind her. as soon as her bum hits the toilet seat, the tears flow and the shame begins to manifest itself into a big, green monster in her mind. how could she do this? how could she lie to him about something as stupid as this? more importantly, why could she not come? as the questions multiplied, the answers came short. she never wanted to be this person, and yet, there she was. does she tell him? does she keep the lie going? does she pretend to be so tired and fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillows? she doesn’t want to do any of those things. instead, she selfishly wants to bask in the warmth radiating from her boyfriend, now that he is in post-orgasmic bliss. maybe she’ll be selfish for once if her mind allows it.

“oh god.”

frustration is now emanating from every pore of her body and she decides then that she has to leave this bathroom before things start looking suspicious. so, she finishes up, takes a deep breath and does not dare to look at herself in the mirror as she leaves.

she comes back to their bedroom and is momentarily confused when she finds him in his boxers and surrounded by a cloud of smoke. his back was facing her as he leaned over the railing of the balcony, shoulders visibly sagging with every breath.

“h? why are you smoking? everything okay?”

harry is by no means a smoker. he’s the kind of person to only reach for them when he is going through heavy emotional turmoil. he wouldn’t even smoke when he drank, so this scene was more than upsetting to her. especially because she already had an inkling of what could have possibly caused this action of his.

he turns around, the lazy smile no longer to be seen. instead, his eyes look even more dull than before and his cheeks have a rosy tint to them, almost like he just finished crying himself. she felt her heart sink and suddenly becomes increasingly aware of the severity of the situation.

this was bad.

“why don’t you tell me who you’re cheating on me with, darling.”

•••

a/n: hiiii, i’m back! sorry it took so long, i’ve been super busy with preparing for my move and also seeing harry in hamburg (and getting covid </3) anyways, this needs a part two, but that isn’t quite finished yet. this is also very different from anything else i’ve ever written before, so any feedback is truly appreciated!!!

he audibly sighed, turning around to throw his finished cigarette out. his hands gripped the railing and he was trying to keep his composure. nausea was rising in his gut and he was wondering, just for a moment, if he should just drop the subject entirely. but alas, he knew that it was too late. he was sick, physically and mentally, of trying to hide from his version of the reality of things.

“you faked it. your orgasm.” he tried not to sound so ashamed as he felt pathetic enough as is. her eyes widened once more, though harry wasn’t there to see it. his body was there, physically, with his back facing her; his mind, however, was entirely elsewhere and running a mile a minute.

depending on how this conversation evolves, it could very well mean the end of it all. it was aggravating, frustrating and most of all, entirely heartbreaking. what harry felt predominantly, though, was fear. he was afraid of living a life that she wasn’t a part of, afraid of finding out who he was without her and who he would leave behind. that is, if he is even strong enough to do that. sadly, his pride happened to be at the forefront of things, hindering him from showing any sort of vulnerability. he wasn’t strong enough to show how broken he truly felt, and she was too consumed in her own problems to realise.

so he noticed that she faked it, that much she did understand. where his claim of her disloyalty came from, however, she had yet to figure out. as her palm found her forehead before it travelled through her hair, scratching her scalp in its wake, she was in desperate search of a way to explain herself. she was a lot of things, but a cheater was not one of them.

a sudden breeze made her aware of the lack of clothing on her form, so she crossed the room in two large steps in search of his shirt that was thrown across the room a mere ten minutes ago. as she bent down to pick it up and put it on, she was ripped out of her thoughts so violently, it shook her to her core.

“don’t you dare put my shirt on, y/n.”

she turned around to find him looking at her with a certain iciness that she had never before seen from him. his eyes lacked any and all warmth, even though it was still alive and present when they were making love just now. in an instant, her arms crossed over her torso to cover herself somewhat; she felt extremely exposed and vulnerable under his judgemental gaze. for the first time since she had known him, she felt uncomfortable because of him.

“are you actually serious right now, harry? what the fuck is going on with you?” her shame and guilt were momentarily replaced by anger and confusion.

“tell me that you faked your orgasm.”

in utter disbelief she replied, “yes, harry, I had to fake it! now let me put some clothes on.”

harry crossed the room while she reached for her blouse just next to his shirt. and before she knew it, he stood before her, tall and proud and maybe even kind of scary. she, too, felt too proud to show him her fear, though.

“why?”

she took a moment to ground herself and looked at him. she took note of his frown, the creases on his forehead, his flared nostrils, his heavy breaths and the emotion in his eyes. and where she should feel anger at his outrageous accusation, she now mostly felt heavy. her heart felt like there were physical weights attached to it, pulling it to her guts. she felt like somebody who was taking a rollercoaster ride and the massive drop was just ahead. she felt uneasy and thrown off balance and it pained her to realise that she did this to herself, too. but he would never know any of it.

thus came the calm before the storm,

“harry, listen-“

and then: thunderclap.

“who is he? or she or- fuck! who are they, y/n? answer me!”

followed by deafening silence.

she waited for a few beats before she replied, involuntarily so, as the air felt like it was knocked out of her chest.

“what on god’s green earth makes you think you can just raise your voice at me, huh?” the fear and discomfort she felt a few moments ago have turned into a monsoon of agony and rage. she loved him, more than anything, but she wasn’t going to let him speak to her like that.

harry looked visibly distressed. her reaction and the situation at hand made his guts churn and his hands clammy. he knew that he shouldn’t have shouted, that he cannot deny. her avoidance of the topic, however, led him to believe that his fears were justified.

he settled down, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. he looked down at her and continued, “I asked you a question. who are they?”

now it was her turn to rage.

“I'm not bloody cheating on you, are you out of your mind? what the hell made you come to this ridiculously stupid conclusion?” she never once broke their eye contact, wanting him to feel how ridiculous the accusation felt to her.

“you faked your fucking orgasm, y/n!” he shouted back, “matter of fact, you barely fucking looked at me while I was literally balls deep inside of you. what the hell am I supposed to think?!”

she never thought she’d have a fight like this with him. they were usually very good at handling their discussions without raising their voices. she hardly remembers a time where they fought, period. times have changed, it seems.

“so?! you immediately think I fucking cheated on you, harry? how fucking fragile is your ego?”

“stop avoiding the fucking question!”

“I didn’t fucking cheat on you!”

“then why did you fake it?”

“because I almost had a fucking panic attack but I tried to brush over it to make you feel better!”

now harry was the one who was at a loss for words. was she lying or was his ego actually this fragile? he didn’t know, but he needed to find out soon, or he was going to lose his mind.

unfortunately, harry had a tendency to turn into a bit of an arrogant prick when his pride overcame him. he wouldn’t necessarily claim to even be ridiculously proud. still, whenever he had to decide between giving in and standing his ground, the latter happened to be his knee-jerk reaction, tragically so for him.

“bullshit.” he scoffed, still not breaking eye contact. he knew that something was off and he wouldn’t rest until he knew, for sure, why. so he continued, “I know you and your body like the back of my fucking hand, y/n. things have been going downhill for us for weeks now, and you know it. we barely do anything together anymore, we barely see each other, hell, we barely fucking speak, y/n!” he raised his voice again. she kept quiet, taking it all in. “I wreck my brain, day and night, about when it all burned down around us and I still don’t have a definitive answer.” he takes a heavy breath as he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. it was getting harder and harder for him to keep his composure, he realised.

“so, please, y/n. for the love of god and everything holy, just tell me who they are so we can get this over with.” he said, in a terribly weak voice.

then, they looked at each other again. and suddenly, the world felt cold and lonely.

he thought that he was about to get a confession. she was going to tell him their name, apologise profusely and maybe beg for forgiveness. she was going to explain to him that she did it in a moment of weakness, that she didn’t mean to and that she loved him, and he was prepared to shut it all down, even if he wasn't strong enough to do so. nevertheless, he already hated himself for it, but he swore to himself that he wasn’t going to get hurt like that, again. and when he saw the first stream of tears run down her face, he was entirely certain of what was going to happen next.

or so he thought.

she looked at him with a look that combined fury and sadness in a way that slightly caught him off guard. she looked angry, incredibly so, and it seemed like that anger was directed towards him. she silently let her tears fall and stared at him in what seemed to be utter disbelief. and when she went to wipe them away with her right hand, harry was faced with something he definitely wasn’t expecting.

she laughed.

confused and irritated, he asks, “what on earth is so funny?”, with his chest physically puffed up and his fists clenched, and that only made her laugh more, with her tears falling heavier.

and for what felt like the first time in too long, she finally spoke.

“harry, I swear to god, you are the most arrogant dickhead I have ever met in my entire life.”

harry gathered his breath once more, ready to interject. he was immediately interrupted, however, by her raised hand. in complete and utter dominance she kept him silent, without having spoken a single word. when she was sure he wouldn’t try to interrupt, she continued.

“so, let me get this straight. you’ve been noticing how things have been rocky between us lately, or as you so accurately put it, ‘going downhill’. that’s good! at least that means I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.” she pauses momentarily, blinking some more tears away. “and then, after being with me for, what? 4 years? and after everything we’ve been through, your first thought is that I cheated on you? and not just that, you’re so bloody sure of it, you’re expecting me to fucking confess? because there couldn’t possibly be another valid reason as to why I am not constantly all over you, correct?”

there was not a trace of laughter when she spoke and towards the end, she sounded like she was seething. so much so, that the hair on his arms stood up. and thus, they stood across from one another. both of them were angry and frustrated and confused and hurt and, most of all, sad. heartbroken. lost.

this wasn’t supposed to happen to them. they were supposed to be the ones that made it through it all, or at least that’s how they both envisioned it. unbeknownst to each other, they both envisioned a life together. a house that felt like home, a couple of cats and dogs running around, many plants to look after and love shared in every way, shape or form. but now, as she stood before him and he stood before her, they felt like everything crumbled underneath them in that very moment. maybe they weren’t that lucky after all.

“why aren’t you answering me, harry? I asked you a question.” she mocked. his pride was fading, albeit too slowly, as he spoke again.

“again, can you blame me, y/n? it’s not even just about how we’ve been drifting apart.” his guard was crumbling at his feet, tears dangerously close. “when you came home today and we started speaking, I just felt so defeated because it all just felt so… forced? but then you finally, after what felt like a fucking eternity, initiated an actual conversation again! it honestly felt like my heart was leaping with joy, especially when I told you about my day and the things that are going on in my life. y/n, it felt so, so good. until I didn’t know what else to say. then it was fucking heartbreaking. but when you touched me, I had this glimmer of hope, that things could maybe go back to how they were. that you and me could go back to being you and me. and, god, when I realised you faked whatever that was I just… I felt fucking disgusting. I felt like I used you to get off and you used me to sell some kind of story, to keep up a fake image of this perfect relationship we used to have. but what kills me the most, is that you dare to stand here and talk to me about ‘daring to accuse you’ of something as outrageous as disloyalty, when you seriously believed that I wouldn’t notice how your body wasn’t reacting to me. we used to share something, my love. this otherworldly connection that I wrote so many fucking songs about. before this all changed, we used to want to be around each other. I remember how you would randomly call me throughout the day, just to tell me a funny thought that you had, or how you would send me pictures of sunsets when I wasn’t there to see them. or how I used to do the same, until you stopped reacting. there you were, suddenly, completely uninterested in anything I had to tell you after you came home from that godforsaken job of yours! you were too exhausted to even notice my presence sometimes. and then, sometimes turned into most of the time. and you came home later and later and you told me less and less and all of a sudden I found myself living with someone I barely know! and all of this, all of it, changed in a mere six weeks and three days, y/n. it changed so quickly that I had no other choice than to think of the worst possible option. and it’s not like I could ask you about it, because anytime I did ask you about anything, about your day or work or your fucking life in general, all I got in response, were short, dry and unspecific answers that just led me to believe the worst. and I’m tired, y/n. I’m tired and upset and heartbroken and, just, so… so tired.”

hot, chubby tears made their presence known on not only her cheeks but his, too. and for the umpteenth time that night, they went quiet. both of them wrecking their brain for the right thing to say, do or change. for the very first time, however, they felt like they ran out of time; like they ran out of chances to make things right. it was then and there that their house felt no longer like a home, but an empty space. like they both didn’t belong there.

she spoke in a small, shaky voice in complete juxtaposition to how she spoke moments before.

“harry… I, fuck. I don’t even know what to say.” she said, frantically wiping tears away and trying to compose herself. he just stood there, letting them fall. he didn’t have it in him to keep fighting.

“you know how long I’ve been working to get to where I am now. I used to tell you all about it, remember? and, god, I know I’ve been home less and practically running all over the place but harry, you have to believe me that none of this has anything to do with you. I’ve been acting out of fear, if anything, because I’m doing anything in my power not to fuck this up for myself. I know I’ve been neglecting you and us and, fuck, myself too! I know that and I am well aware of it, but for you to genuinely believe that I was cheating; it just… it breaks my heart, harry.” she choked on another sob and he felt his hand twitch, begging to reach out to her, begging to hold her close and kiss her pain away. unfortunately, he needed someone to hold him, too.

“and you know what the worst part is? after everything you’ve said, I get it. I get where you’re coming from. it does nothing to ease the pain though. or the embarrassment or the fear or fuck-all.”

she sighed, deeply, as did harry, trying to soothe their own pain, somehow.

“y/n…” he started, knowing that the topic he was getting into was sensitive enough as is, even without the added weight of their argument.

“you know you don’t have to work, you know I could take care of you and-“

“don’t you dare bring this up now, harry. don’t you dare.”

and like many times before, she shut him down completely. and it frustrated him to no end.

ever since harry and y/n got into a more serious stage of their relationship, he had been bringing up the topic of her financial distress, constantly. whether it was her student loans, her parents asking for money, or just regular living expenses, she was always struggling in a way, at least at first. now that she earned a decent amount though, her anxiety has seemingly doubled. she can pay for her life now but is also in constant fear of it being taken away again. she also will not let him spend a dime on her, for some reason, and it frustrated harry endlessly. he knew where she was coming from, as her explanation always danced somewhere along the lines of ‘not wanting to use him for his money’ and ‘her being able to take care of herself’. harry tried being respectful, he really did! but when he saw how her job was ripping her flesh from her bones, destroying her mental, physical and emotional wellbeing, he couldn’t help but feel agitated. she was just too proud to tell him that she needed help and it made him feel like she did not trust him. it was a topic that they had yet to work through, but harry did not feel like that would happen tonight, either. 

still, with another heavy sigh to brace himself, he bravely continued.

“y/n, listen-“

“no, harry, we’ve been through this-“

“don’t fucking interrupt me, y/n! I mean, for fucks sake, look at you! look at us! you haven’t been sleeping or eating or getting a fucking break ever since you got this fucking job, and it got even worse when you got the damn promotion! your body is giving up on you, the stress is fucking you up from the inside out. and you just said that you almost had a panic attack during sex, for heaven’s sake! I’m willing to bet everything I have on your job having something to do with it. am I right?”

she fell silent and that was all he needed as confirmation.

“there we have it. you know I’m right about this.”

a few beats of silence passed.

“harry, I worked too hard for myself just to let a man take care of my finances. I don’t care how right you are, this is not something you will ever be able to change, okay? please just accept it so we can move on to work on actual problems.”

“actual problems? then what the fuck do you expect us to do?!” he shouted, “for fucks sake, y/n, look at us! if I am just ‘a man’ to you then what the hell am I even fighting for? you know I’d give my fucking life for you. I’d do fucking anything to make you happy. do you know how infuriating it is to be faced with a problem that is fixable and the only reason I can’t do anything is because you are too proud to accept some help?! this is ridiculous, fucking ridiculous.”

“this has nothing to do with my pride, harry. this is my own choice and it’s based on my own principle.” she responded as calmly as possible.

he was not calm by any means.

“principle?! what fucking principle?!” his fear turned into rage, once more. now, however, much worse than before.

“the principle of never letting anyone have that kind of power over me, especially somebody who could just up and leave whenever they please! I need to be able to support myself and that is not something I am willing to compromise.”

his rage made his eyes glow a warmer shade of green. harry didn't think it was possible to feel both crushed and furious at the same time, and yet here he was, pitifully.

“do you even trust me, y/n?” he shouted for the last time that night.

“honestly harry? right now, I’m not exactly sure I do!

and it was right at that moment that harry felt his heart snap clean in half. if he had to describe the kind of pain he felt, he would probably compare it to having the weight of a cargo ship right on his spine. and before he could give it much more thought, he did everything he could to shield and protect himself from even more pain. 

so he spoke.

“then get the fuck out of my house.”

her eyes were wide. his? tired, defeated and unbelievably hurt.

did silence always feel this suffocating? she wasn’t so sure. but as she looked at him for what would be the last time that night, she could barely breathe as she spoke out three simple words in complete and utter disbelief.

“fuck you, harry.”

and so, she left.

⌁⌁⌁

3.7k, not proofread (sorry!!!), lowercase intended

SHE’S FINALLY HERE!!! i’m so very sorry for the delay but i am so, so, SO grateful for the wonderful feedback i’ve received !!! it means the world to me, truly. also, please forgive me for how short this is, but it's only because there will be a part 3 (woooo!) so you cannot off me just yet <3 anyways, I hope you’ve enjoyed it !!! and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated! 

mwah ily <3

- ve 

after she had left home - no, harry’s place - she wondered if all of it was a nightmare. some sort of hallucination that manifested itself into her brain after 6 weeks of straight malnourishment and sleep deprivation. never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that he would ever speak to her in that way or do something like that to her; question her trust like that. she asked herself if she even knew who he was or if the last four years had been a lie, but somewhere between taking an impossibly hot shower and slapping tons of concealer under her eyes in an attempt to cover her dark circles, she had decided to not think about it for as long as she possibly could. she just wouldn’t think about it, wouldn’t talk to anyone about it and she definitely, definitely, definitely wasn’t going to face him anytime soon.

and so, she arrived at work at 8:54 am, ready to get some work done and pretend that everything was as it should be. fortunately for her, it seemed to work out - for most of the day, that is.

she had greeted some co-workers, wrote down a list of to-do’s for the day, checked off those to-do’s one by one, had some coffee, ate some lettuce wraps for lunch and threw up said lettuce wraps, returned to drinking coffee and nothing but. with a few meetings here and there, some office gossip and a pile of work later, her work day was finished. she found herself wishing that she could be stuck in that loop for the rest of her life - or at least for another few hours - so she could escape the reality of things for just a tiny bit longer. things don’t seem to go to plan for her lately.

“you’re leaving early? is it christmas already?”

she turned around to find tony, one of her coworkers, looking at her with an expression that indicated humour. she wasn’t really up for humour right now, but she also didn’t want to seem any more off than she probably already did. so, she forced a chuckle and answered.

“well, technically, I’m not leaving early. I just finished my work on time and don’t really feel like staying longer today, honestly.”

“so compared to your usual hours, you’re still leaving early.”

she looked at him with a frozen smile that didn’t reach her eyes. she hated when people - no, men - repeated her exact words back to her as if she were stupid. she hated it with a passion. harry never spoke to her like that. she should tell him all about it once she gets home, she thought. 

as she realised that she couldn’t do that, she quickly turned away from tony to resume packing her bag.

“I suppose you’re right, tony. what can I do for you?”

he hoped her tone indicated her lack of interest in their conversation. she truly desired nothing more than to get out of this office and figure out her plan for the next few days.

“some of us wanted to get some drinks at this bar down the street. you know, the one that does trivia on wednesday nights? would you like to join us? you can tell your boyfriend to come!”

every single part of those sentences made her feel woozy. the idea of having drinks with her coworkers was absolutely atrocious; she couldn’t physically think of something that she would’ve liked to do less at that moment. however, the mention of him made her suddenly want something to drown out her thoughts with. she usually never resorted to alcohol, but the burn of some heavy liquor in her throat would for sure help her out, at least for now. she needed to feel something. so, without giving it much more thought, she turned around, smiled, and almost robotically replied.

“sure, I’d love to come. thanks for the invite! I’ll ask if he can make it.”

+++

8pm arrived and y/n was piss drunk. 

when they arrived at the bar her coworkers ordered a round of different dishes for the table while she immediately went for the drinks. beer wasn’t her favourite, so vodka would suffice. one drink turned into two, two turned into four and before she realised, she found herself 7 drinks deep into her own abyssal torment. none of her coworkers seemed to notice, either because they lacked interest or she was too good at hiding her intoxication. she barely spoke at the table, anyway. 

“so, y/n! where is that lovely boyfriend of yours? we haven’t seen him since last year’s christmas party. he was fun!” one of her older coworkers, maude, chirped. 

y/n looked up from her drink, slightly disoriented at first. she kept forgetting that the outside world wasn’t aware of how her life crumbled into pieces at her feet. 

act normal. act normal. act normal.

“oh, he’s been pretty busy. you know, with his music and stuff. I’m sorry he couldn’t make it tonight.” she replied. funny how she didn’t even know where he was, right now. 

“oh, that’s a shame. make sure to bring him around again soon! he did a whole coffee run when he visited you last time. even paid for my extra pumps of hazelnut syrup, the ol’ charmer.” maude giggled. y/n forgot how older ladies seemed to adore him. then again, everyone did.

she also did.

in an attempt to seem flattered, she shook her head with a smile on her face. she couldn’t possibly have any of them suspect anything. the last thing she needed was to be the subject of infuriating office chitchat. luckily, she found it quite easy to keep up fake conversation and with that, fake emotion. she truly didn’t care for the people she worked with. a job was a job, nothing more. sure, she loved what she did, but it didn’t change the fact that her job wasn’t her life, or at least, shouldn’t be. she barely cared about her boss, but she did care about the money. a lot. 

for all she cared, she was going to keep up the lie for as long as she had to, and she was fine with that. but maybe, just maybe, it gave her an excuse to pretend that everything was still okay between her and harry. she might as well treat her workplace as an alternate reality; a parallel universe where she could still go home to her lover and had never been kicked out of her own home. a home she helped to build with all the love she possessed in her heart. 

oh, what a waste of love, she thought.

“y/n, are you still with us?” 

“huh? what?”

people laughed. her eyebrows furrowed. she glanced around. she was confused. she felt embarrassed.

“oh, darling, maybe cut back on those drinks you’ve been chugging! I mean, I know you’re a heavyweight and it’s the weekend, but you just totally spaced out on us!“ lena - a younger coworker of hers - said, giggling her way through her remark.

“oh god, sorry. it’s been a long week, you know how it is.” she tried to go along with the joke, while truthfully feeling mortified for letting her guard down. “what were you saying?”

she honestly couldn’t care less. 

“oh, we were just talking about potentially making this a regular thing! you know, to strengthen team morale and all.”

she smiled. there was no way in hell. 

“sure! sounds fun.”

they nodded in agreement, believing her made-up enthusiasm. maybe she should’ve gone to acting school with how believable her act was. or they might just not care about her, just like she doesn’t care about them. they definitely didn’t care enough to ask.

the question was: who did care about her?

her coworkers don’t seem to do so. she’d barely seen any of her friends for a long while now. she hadn’t spoken to her family in what felt like forever. 

she always thought that harry cared.

harry. oh, harry. 

harry. harry. harry.

she suddenly rose up from her seat, pulling everyone’s eyes in her direction.

“I’m gonna use the restroom.”

and gone she was. 

her heart was beating unbelievably fast. she wasn’t feeling good, at all. maybe the alcohol did take a toll on her.

without checking her surroundings, she almost bolted to the restroom. as soon as she entered, she picked one of the empty stalls and found purchase on the sticky floor, almost dramatically sliding down along the closed door. she needed to breathe. her head hung low between her bent knees, her hands clasping around her ears. with her eyes screwed shut and her hearing now impacted, she was now robbed of most of her senses, grounding her somewhat. ‘please, please, please’ was chanted in her head like a mantra; she couldn’t lose her composure like this, anything else was not as important at this moment. 

“everything okay in there? should I get someone?”

her head shot up. fuck.

her breathing must’ve been heavy or maybe the words she repeated weren’t as quiet as she thought. she wasn’t sure who was behind the door, but she wasn’t strong enough to face them.

“uh, I’m okay! thanks for asking.”

silence. 

“y/n? is that you?”

wait, what? she knew that voice.

she got up to open the door and was suddenly faced with a very familiar face.

“jane?”

+++

harry doesn’t remember the last time he felt so hollow. with every moment that passed, he felt more and more like he was drowning. like he was making a terrible, terrible mistake.

the last thing she had said to him before she went to pack a bag was ‘fuck you, harry.’ and truthfully, at first, he was angry. angry at how they argued, angry at her for leaving, angry at himself for not asking her to stay. it was a little later though, right after the door slammed shut behind her that he realised he couldn’t have asked her to stay when he was the one who told her to leave.

and then it dawned on him. he told her to leave. he kicked her out. in the middle of the night. in a city where he himself had been robbed at knifepoint not too long ago. 

the panic kicked in soon after.

so, he called. and called. and called.

but she never answered. 

after the 30th call, her phone went straight to voicemail. that was when harry really started freaking out. 

where did she go? was she safe? what if something happened? harry wouldn’t forgive himself if something were to have happened.

he bit and chewed on his fingers until they bled. he didn’t sleep. his mind and soul were surrounded by an image of her in danger. in pain. hurt.

though, he hurt her that night. 

he was the one who put her in that situation. he hurt her. why the fuck did he do that? why the actual fuck did he do that?

when the panic passed, the self-loathing soon followed. he didn’t understand how things were so quick to turn around when they were more than okay a mere few weeks ago. he treated her like she was disposable and he doesn’t think he will ever forgive himself for it. 

when the hatred for himself outweighed the worry he had for her, he resorted to pills to find slumber that night. the sleep was terrible, but it was better than nothing.

he woke up the next morning, finding himself on his kitchen floor. he must’ve passed out then and there. he checked the clock just above the fridge. the time was 9:15 AM. if she was okay, she must be at work. he could go there to check on her, see if her car was there. but, then again, he felt like he was the last person she wanted around her at this moment. if she was even alive, that is.

his rationality came back to him somewhere after 11 in the morning, just after his shower. she was a strong and capable woman, she was probably fine. she had to be, or he was never going to be fine again.

he went back to the kitchen to fetch himself some water for his run. if there was one thing that helped him, it was running for miles and miles and miles ahead and drowning out his surroundings with music through his headphones. as he opened the fridge he was faced with a bowl that was filled with cubes of fruit. the bowl was shaped like a lemon and had the colour to go with it. he remembers how y/n had picked it out online, gushing over how cute and fitting it is.

‘you always sing about fruit! might as well have a lemon-shaped bowl, if you ask me.’

he remembers how he had chuckled in response, pulled her in for a kiss on her temple, and replied ‘whatever you want, love.’

why do those days feel so far away now? 

he looked all around the kitchen and observed how every nook and cranny of this house had pieces of her littered all over it. the kitchen clock; a soft yellow one with slender, roman numbering on it - she chose it. the light pink cabinets - she painted them. actually, they painted them together and made sweet love on that very floor when they were finished. every piece of decoration - she had collected them whenever they had travelled. he particularly took notice of a framed picture right next to the sink. a moment captured when they made fresh pasta at his mother’s house when they were there for her birthday, two years ago. he remembered the moment so, so vividly.

‘harry, for goodness’ sake! you’re making a mess!’

she was the one who rolled out the dough by hand, since harry had previously dropped the pasta maker on the floor, resulting in its break. feeling a little useless, he wanted to do whatever he could to make her laugh. so, he did what any child would do: poured flour over them. first, her nose. then, her cheeks. shortly after, her head. and when she was sick of him, she grabbed the packet from his grasp and poured every last bit over him. her glimmering eyes looked straight at his playful ones. she bit her lips, in order to deny him the satisfaction of a laugh, and he looked just about ready to burst at the seams. 

in that moment, his sister quietly took a picture, making sure to get it back to them for one of their birthdays. when she was done, she clapped her hands to gain their attention, and suddenly they stood there like deers caught in headlights. 

then, laughter erupted. loud, hearty, full laughter. 

harry had to physically shake his head to lose the memory. when a sudden sickness overcame him, he found himself emptying the contents of his stomach right into said sink. was this kind of behaviour normal after a breakup? he didn’t know.

breakup. breakup. breakup.

the word swam around his vision, making him want to gauge his own eyes out. were they broken up, now? could she ever forgive him? then again, could he forgive her for lying to him? his mind was swarmed with all sorts of questions that he had no way of finding an answer to, at least not anytime soon. 

he needed to go on that run.

so, he did. and ever so conveniently, he ran by her workplace. low and behold, her car was there, unscathed. relief flooded him, but so did dread. because if she was at work, that meant she was fine. which also meant that she didn’t pick up his calls on purpose. she didn’t want to talk to him. 

good. maybe they shouldn’t talk for a while. whatever. 

he ran back home and didn’t leave the house for the remaining day.

+++

jane was y/n’s lifelong friend. they went to high school together and were usually inseparable. however, with both of their schedules being as crazy as they were, they rarely saw each other these days. when jane saw the state of her in that bathroom stall, she paid for her tab and drove her home. y/n didn’t say much in that time, still in a state of sensory overload. it was only when she saw how they were approaching harry’s driveway that she spoke. 

“we can’t go there.” 

jane whipped her head towards the passenger seat. “what do you mean, petal?” 

y/n stared straight ahead. “we can’t go to harry’s place. can I stay with you tonight? I’ll explain everything.”

jane looked at her for a few beats longer, worry etched deep into her features, until she turned her car around and drove to her own apartment. just over 30 minutes later, they arrived.

y/n soon realised how drunk she truly was, especially when the glare of the white lightbulbs in jane’s bathroom made her head throb and her guts churn. she ended up leaning above the toilet bowl in an attempt to empty the contents of her stomach, however, her attempt was in vain; nothing left her stomach. and yet, she felt so empty. 

she wished that she had shouted at harry, maybe even slap him across his annoyingly pretty face. she wished she had done something to stop him from doing what he did. but alas, just like nothing left her now, nothing left her then. she was always so perfectly contained. harry had even told her on multiple occasions that she needed to let loose, even if it was just a little bit. he was good at helping her with that. she always felt so unbothered and carefree in his presence. 

oh, harry. what have you done?

“god, harry. you fucking idiot.” 

the first sob of the night left her. then came the second. the third quickly followed. all of a sudden, she found herself crying in agony over her best friend’s toilet.

“y/n, you okay?? can I come in?” jane called from the other side of the door, but y/n didn’t hear. the echo of her cries within the toilet bowl was too loud for her to be aware of her surroundings. thus, a very worried-looking jane came bursting through the door. as she found y/n in literal shambles across the bathroom floor, she couldn’t help but choke up herself. she’d never seen her like this, and it truly broke her heart.

“hey, hey pretty girl, it’s alright. I’m here, good god, I’m here. let it all out.”

jane ended up cradling y/n, almost like you would calm a crying baby, and y/n didn’t realise how much she truly needed it. however, she still didn’t dare to speak. she feared that, once she recalled the events out loud, they would become reality. she wasn’t ready for that to happen, not yet. maybe not ever, but definitely not now. 

so she cried and cried and cried until there was nothing left to give. jane and her wordlessly went to bed that night, bundled up in blankets to keep out the cold. 

y/n feared she might never feel normal again, if she even knew what that was. she felt like harry completed her, and that scared her to death.

when she woke up the next day, she finally threw up. with the vodka finally out of her system and her stomach basically cleansed, she felt a lot better than she thought she would. the headache was manageable and the nausea came and went. she could survive this.

she didn’t know about the rest of her circumstances, though. 

whenever the thought of him popped into her head, she did whatever she could to distract herself. first thing in the morning? she showered after her journey to the toilet bowl. after the shower? extensive skincare. when she saw her tired expression in the mirror? left the bathroom to borrow some of jane’s clothes. eventually, she had run out of distractions in the bedroom, so she escaped to the kitchen. when she started preparing breakfast and turned up the radio just a touch, she was reminded of him, again. soon enough, she realised that everything reminded her of him, and there was nothing she could do about it. would be too easy, right?

for the first time in a while, she felt vulnerable. raw. like there was no skin over her pain and a gust of wind could make it bleed.

the realisation knocked the air out of her for just a moment, but it was enough for her to turn the stove off and sit down. she felt as if she had just run up the stairs, in fear that somebody was chasing her. she felt out of breath, disoriented and weirded out. maybe she should go to that doctor to talk about her anxiety, harry had always-

“hey, you! making some breakfast? how kind.” jane chimed, bright and chipper, ripping y/n out of her thoughts. she caught her gaze, offering a smile. “oh, I was just up early today. the eggs are probably burnt, though. just a heads up.”

jane nodded and went straight to her bag of toaster waffles and popped one of them into her mouth. a quick turn later, she faced y/n with an apologetic expression. as much as she wanted to grant y/n her bit of privacy, she needed to know what happened. before jane could open her mouth, y/n spoke. she spoke and spoke and spoke, retelling the whole thing, from the moment she felt overwhelmed at work, right up to the point where harry kicked her out. this was the second day she wasn’t at his place, refusing to refer to it as ‘home’, and everything still felt awfully unreal. jane listened and listened until she snapped. 

“hold on, what? you slept in your damn car? why didn’t you call me? y/n, that was so unsafe, dear god!” 

she was pacing up and down her lengthy kitchen, trying to wrap her head around how her best friend’s picture-perfect relationship went to shit without anybody else noticing. 

“I know, jane, I know, but I wasn’t really thinking and I didn’t want to bother anyone. the two of us have barely spoken lately, and-“

“as if that matters! y/n, you’re my best friend, okay? my ride or die. it doesn’t matter if I see you once a week or once a year, I am the person you tell these things to, okay? I’m the person you ask for help!”

y/n didn’t answer, shame clouding her senses. instead, her gaze turned downwards and she started picking her nails.

“you’re staying with me until we figure this out, okay? I don’t want to hear shit.” 

when y/n didn’t answer, jane physically forced her to look at her by nudging her hand under her chin and gently dragging it upwards. “got it, petal?” 

y/n nodded.

“wonderful! oh, and if I see harry, just know I’m gonna beat the shit out of him. lord knows he deserved it-“

“you will not, okay?”

jane looked at y/n as if she had grown a third head. confusedly, she goes: “wait, are you planning to forgive him, or something?”

y/n became frustrated. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do yet, okay? I just don’t know. I can’t face him for a bit, but I can’t tell you what’ll happen afterwards. please don’t hurt him, I know that you actually would.”

jane listened, processed, and nodded. she didn’t want to cause her any more emotional turmoil. 

“okay, dude. whatever you say. now, let’s plan this sleepover of ours!”

+++

it’d been seven days since harry had last seen her. with every day that had passed, his emotions spiralled.

his first phase: hatred. 

he hated her. he hated her boss, her work, her mindset. he hated all of the things he could blame for their fallout, thus also hating himself. he hated himself so much that he couldn’t bare to look at himself. when he wasn’t excessively punching things in his at-home gym, he got high and broke stuff. he called her and spoke spiteful things onto her voicemail. he cried angry tears and listened to angry, devastating music. 

the music triggered the second phase: sorrow.

he cried and cried and cried, especially to sad coldplay songs or the old records that his stepfather used to collect. the crying made him tired, so he slept a lot during this phase. though, as soon as he woke up, he’d be crying again. 

when the crying stopped, the depression came.

heaviness shaped his form. his feet felt too heavy to lift,  thus his bed became his permanent residence for a bit. his mind was hazy and everything he attempted to do sucked every last bit of energy out of him, resulting in a permanent state of exhaustion. 

his empty bed triggered his longest phase: loneliness.

he missed her. so fucking much.

he missed her smell. her peaceful, sleeping state. he missed how she would always have to collect individual hairs off of their covers because her hair just shed in heaps during her slumber. he missed how she’d look up at him when the first few moments of consciousness kissed her in the morning. he missed how he could lay his head on her soft chest and listen to her steady heartbeat. he missed how she would sometimes lovingly grab him by the jaw and pull him down to kiss his forehead. he missed how she used to make him coffee in the morning and he’d eat her out on the kitchen table to say thank you. he missed her body, every mark and every freckle. he missed her voice and wished he’d recorded it at some point. he missed the way she’d hug him from every angle. he missed how she could talk to him for hours about anything. he missed making love to her.

he missed being able to love her. 

he feared that she was gone now. far, far away from his reach. he had to make peace with it, though. right?

thus he welcomed his current phase: apathy. 

he didn’t care anymore; he wasn’t going to get her back. he’d fucked up too bad, so he resorted to resenting her for her mistakes. the negative emotions that were previously directed towards him only were now evenly distributed amongst her, him, their situation and the world. he didn’t want to talk to anyone, reach out to anyone, or even acknowledge his feelings in any way. as he cleaned up his house from the shards and pieces of the the things he had destroyed, he found a weird sense of serenity in the acceptance of his downfall. all was lost now, what else could go wrong? 

then, his phone rang.

he checked. it was sarah. 

he wasn’t going to pick up, but she’d called him a few times now. he didn’t want to worry her, so he finally picked up.

“hello?”

a sigh of relief left her.

“goodness, harry, where were you? I’ve been trying to reach you for ages! look, some things need to be picked up for the rehearsal dinner on tuesday. could you maybe handle it? I wouldn’t ask you but mitch and I have been super busy with everything else. pleeaasee?”

harry’s brows furrowed. rehearsal dinner?

then, he remembered. the fucking wedding.

mitch and sarah had been officially married for over a year, yet they never had a proper celebration due to obvious restrictions. and honestly, he’d completely forgotten about it within the last few days. a wedding for his best friends, which she was also supposed to attend. how on earth could he make this right?

“oh! and tell y/n to call me back, please! I’ve been meaning to talk to her about the dresses for the bridesmaids, but her phone is dead or something.”

without missing a beat, harry replied. “yeah, sure. I’ll tell her. also, send me what you need picked up and I’ll get it to you.” 

if there was one thing harry and y/n had in common, it was this: they would always put other people’s needs above their own, especially if it concerned their loved ones. there was no way in hell he would make one of his best friends worry about him when her wedding was just around the corner. he’ll pretend if he had to. but he was not going to fuck this up for them.

“oh, you’re an angel! I’ll send you all the details, thank you! I have to go now but give y/n a kiss from me, please. love you! see you later! bye!”

the phone beeped until inevitable silence.

right, so he had to hope that y/n would attend the wedding. no, he had to be sure that she would be there. not only that; he had to hope that she would agree to act normal around their friends, for now. 

harry needed to find a way to reach her. he might’ve fucked up his own relationship, but he was not going to spoil his friend’s wedding. 

wonderful. what could go wrong? except for absolutely everything?

+++

5.1k, not proofread (whoops), lowercase intended

PART THREE IS HERE HELLOOOOO

thank you for your patience !! i know it’s been a long time coming. parts of this were kind of hard to write for me, so excuse any ill worded sentences, please <3

i hope you enjoy this one! as always, all the love xx

you and harry had gone out for the night, something that you didn’t do often. truthfully, you and harry weren’t really the kinds of people to go clubbing, but since his friend just opened up a new club and had a grand opening to celebrate, neither of you really had it in you to say no.

so, you both threw on your most appropriate outfits and came with the intention of having a good time. that quickly proved to be a difficult task, though. for you, at least.

harry looked ridiculously good in all of his outfits. tonight, however, he looked delicious and you weren’t the only one to notice, unfortunately. clad in a casual, all black suit with trousers that fit his ass like a dream your mouth couldn’t help but water. his shirt that was only buttoned less than half way did nothing to quench your thirst, as well. in all honesty, you knew you’d have trouble behaving the moment you stepped out of the house with him.

as soon as you arrived at the club, people were all over him. his friends offered him drinks, women gave him pretty eyes and one guy even ruthlessly asked him for a fuck in one of the bathroom stalls, even with you standing right next to him. the normal reaction would be to get a little pissed, right? well, for you, that wasn’t the case. if anything, it only made you want him more. the worst part? he was well aware, therefore basking in the attention.

at some point you needed something to drown out the nasty thoughts in your mind, just until you got home, at least. so, you made your way to the bar, having lost harry a long time ago. as you sat down on one of the barstools, your phone was the first thing your hands found as a way to distract your mind but within minutes, an ice cold moscow mule appeared in front of you. confused, your eyes shoot upwards, ready to object, until you were stopped in your tracks when your boyfriends eyes immediately found your own. your boyfriend, who was standing behind the bar.

“hope it’s to your taste, princess” he shot you a wink that made you weak in the knees.

“what on earth are you doing behind the bar?”

his brows furrow. “that’s not what you say when your boyfriend makes you a drink, darling”

ah, right. it was that kind of night.

“i’m sorry, thank you.” you reply, clearly still confused.

in an instant, his face softens and his playfulness is on full display. “you’re welcome, baby”

you take a sip of your drink which, of course, was divine. it angered you how absolutely talented he was at everything he attempted.

“so? you’re playing bartender for the night, or?” you ask, wanting nothing more than to drown the entire glass with how he was staring at you.

“oh, tim had too much to drink and passed out somewhere in the back so i’m filling in until the other guy gets here.”

“oh, okay.”

in all honesty, you were hardly paying attention to what he was saying, as your eyes were glued on one thing in particular.

his hands. polishing a glass with a tea towel.

you’ve always been obsessed with his hands, ever since you first started dating. and not just because of what they were capable of, no, but also because they were just so damn pretty to look at.

the way his freshly manicured nails looked, the way his fingers were long and slender, the way they were huge and strong and how his rings made them look like something out of an art gallery. truly, everything about them was pure perfection and it turned you on to no end.

and harry was well aware.

“see something you like, honey?”

you snapped out of your thoughts and were met with his knowing gaze. he always knew what he did to you and you honestly didn’t have it in you to deny it. you still shake your head though, not wanting him to know just how much power he had over you.

“oh, really? because if i didn’t know any better you were checking out my hands just now, weren’t you?”

your eye contact never faltered as he spoke, and when you reply, “and what if i was?”, you wanted him to know that you were ready to play tonight. “it’s not like you’d do anything about it.”

harry’s smirk was evil. he wanted this, maybe even more than you did. he eyed you up and down, just as much as you did, all night. your teeny tiny dress did nothing to hide your figure in any way and harry’s mind had been running wild ever since you first put it on. he made a promise to himself to rip it off as soon as he got the chance. and as harry saw the second bartender walk up to the bar, he realised his chance came sooner than he expected.

“want me to do something about it, angel?”

you nod.

“words.”

“yes, please”

“good.”

thus, he walked around the bar and immediately up to you, ignoring how people were trying to chat him up. as soon as he stood next to you, he grabbed you by the hand and dragged you through the crowded club.

and now, here you were, with harry pressed up against you. his mouth explored your neck and your hands found purchase in his hair.

“what do you need, baby? let me give it to you.”

without missing a beat, you reply. “your hands, please”

“hmm” he moaned. “i love your manners, princess. makes me want to fuck you like you deserve.”

you moan in response, quickly putting your hand over your mouth to stifle your sounds. when his hands grabbed your ass and pulled your dress up, however, the task seemed to exponentially gain difficulty.

“god, your body drives me mad, angel. you’re unreal.”

harry’s praise made your brain go fuzzy in all the right ways. he knew just how to play with you and you loved it.

“harry, please. need your hands, your fingers. god!”

“hmm, you got it, love”

he removed your hand to kiss you feverishly, making sure to hike your dress up further to gain access. his tongue roams your lips while his hands rip your underwear at its seams. your gasp was swallowed by his mouth, keeping your noise level to a minimum. he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet, so he took matters into his own hands.

with your hands now pinned above your head, he looks at you once again for confirmation that you wanted this. your blown out pupils told him that you did not want it, but you needed it.

then, he waited. and stared. and waited.

he was teasing you. and there was nothing you could do, except beg.

“harry, baby, please! need you so bad, you have no idea!” you whine, making harry’s cock stiffen in his trousers.

“what do you need, hmm?”

you swallowed your pride and gave him the only right answer.

“need your hands in my cunt. fuck me with your fingers, please!”

he looks at you in disarray. sometimes he couldn’t believe his luck.

“well, only because you asked so nicely, petal.”

all of a sudden, two of his fingers were in you, knuckles deep.

“oh, god, fuck!” you whine, loud enough for anyone to hear. to your surprise, harry didn’t seem to care or even be interested in making you quiet down. he enjoyed the show too much to make it stop. so, he continued.

his fingers moved expertly inside of you, in just the right way to make you come undone as quickly as possible. his skilled digits drilled inside of you and repeated a ‘come hither’ motion periodically, making you see stars. your g-spot immediately being stimulated, you felt overwhelmingly hot and horny. it shouldn’t take long for you to come like this.

your moans only got louder when he moved his thumb to graze your clit with a featherlight touch. his fingers spread your arousal like no tomorrow, making sure to get you nice and creamy for when he fucks his cock into you later. the copious amount of pressure in your lower belly made you throw your head back in pleasure, giving harry the perfect playground for love bites and bold licks of his tongue. he consumed all of your senses, and if he kept this up for much longer, you weren’t sure if your legs were going to give out or not.

“ah, harry! god, harry, harry, harry!”

“hmm, i know angel, i know.”

of course he knew. he knew how close you were, how desperately you needed him to make you cum. you just hoped you weren’t going to leave behind a mess that you’d have to clean up with ridiculously thin toilet paper.

when his fingers drilled into you more vigorously and his gaze didn’t leave yours again, you knew your orgasm was very, very close.

he saw it in the way your eyes were glossy and your gaze was cloudy. he knew he was going to make you cum and no matter how often he did it, it never failed to fuel his ego.

so, with a few more deep presses against your g-spot and flicks on your clit, the game was over.

“fuck, shit, agh! i’m gonna-“

“i know baby, cum f’me. come on.”

“ah, god, ahh!”

you held onto him for dear life, not trusting your legs to keep your bum off the nasty bathroom floor. he rode out your orgasm with you, fingers still deep inside of you, stimulating nerves you were never sure even existed. you kept getting hits of his cologne, deepening the pleasure in an ungodly form. and only when his hands, which were previously holding up your own, came up to your face to wipe away a few stray tears did you realise you were crying from the intensity of it all.

wordlessly, he looked at you for any signs of discomfort. when all you could offer was a facial expression of pure, unfiltered bliss and pleasure, he nodded and slowly removed his fingers from inside you. the emptiness made you feel cold, but only momentarily. the moment passed when harry, with no warning, brought his wet hand up to your mouth.

exchanging knowing glances you opened your mouth, ready to receive your treat. he slowly pushes his fingers inside your mouth, making sure to lay them flat on your tongue. out of muscle memory, you began licking and sucking them, properly cleaning them up. with your closed eyes you weren’t able to absorb the look of absolute pride and sheer arousal on his face, though you had a feeling he was enjoying this as much as you did.

about halfway through cleaning his fingers he pulled them out of your mouth. a pout almost made its way to your face but it stopped it in its tracks when suddenly, he began to suck the rest of your arousal from his own fingers, mimicking your previous actions. enamoured, you stare at him and the way his eyes rolled all the way back into his skull, not being able to wrap your head around how fucking attractive he was, especially right now.

the eye contact never falters, not before he is done cleaning his fingers. after a few more seconds he removes his fingers from his mouth, wiping the excess spit on his trousers. he then held your face with both of his hands and pulled you close for a deep, slow kiss. your head tipped back and you let him take the lead, enjoying the heady taste of your cum on both of your tongues. and when the kiss comes to an end, he removes his hands from you to get on his knees and pull your dress down. your underwear lands in the pocket of his blazer and you can do nothing but stare, even when he comes back up to stand on his feet.

his hands find your face again, a look of smug pride written all over his face. and when he lightly taps your right cheek with the palm of his hands, almost like he would pet a dog, you knew you had to go home and it had to be soon.

“atta girl. let’s go home, yeah?”

-

waaaay longer than anticipated but i got carried away lol enjoy !! thank you sm for requesting it <3