#tobjzl

"So, what've you been up to?" He asked, leaning back into the booth as you sipped your drink. "Not much, though I'm going on month long solo backpacking trip to Australia in two weeks," you replied calmly.

His eyes widened slightly. "Oh wow... a month? You never mentioned that." He added, trying not to show the disappointment that he wouldn't see you for that long in his voice. "Mhm," you hummed in response, "I guess it just slipped my mind, I booked it all ages ago."

The two of you spent the remainder of the night talking. The boys would often complain about how when Tobi and you were both at the function no one else could get a word in edge ways, though you didn't bat an eyelid at their words.

After that night the amount you and Tobi texted, called and visited each other's apartments increased dramatically, though it wasn't something ether of you did on purpose. You saw him every other day and you were beginning to notice the growing tension between you two.

You'd never looked at him as a possible boyfriend candidate but suddenly you were seeing him in a completely different light, though you were too nervous to say anything.

A week before you left for Australia it finally happened... you were sat on your couch with Tobi next to you in your apartment, watching a random movie after you'd just shared a large dominos pizza.

You'd slowly been moving closer together throughout the last half an hour, you were now so close that you could feel his warmth through your hoodie. His gaze was on you, you could feel it and when you looked up at him and stared into his deep brown eyes you knew you were absolutely fucked.

The kiss felt so natural... so right, like you weren't kissing your best friend but someone you'd been with for years. When you eventually pulled away, now straddling his lap as his hands sat on your hips the both of you laughed, a slightly relieved and happy laugh that broke any tension that still lingered in the room.

For the next five days you barely left each other's arms. It was like everything now made sense. You'd finally found your person and he'd been right in front of your eyes for years.

When it eventually came time for you to leave he drove you to the airport and squeezed you so hard you thought your eyes might've popped out of your head. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much," he mumbled into your hair.

Once you pulled back you kissed him, a long sweet kiss, a goodbye. "We'll text every day and call at three in the morning," you reminded him lightheartedly. You knew the completely different time zones were going to be frustrating but it was a month, only a month.

Even though you'd officially been together for under a week it felt like forever and leaving during the start of a relationship, which was always so exciting, was hard.

The first week of your trip was okay, texting him seemed to be filling the Tobi shaped hole in your life and you were keeping yourself super busy but you missed him, bad.

You had one of the best trips of your life, saw so many things, had the greatest experiences, ate some amazing food, met new people and loved every moment though by the time it was time to go home you were ecstatic.

When you got off the plane and spotted your boyfriend standing across the airport with a big bouquet of red roses in his hands you ran, actually ran, towards him. He scooped you up in his arms and you both let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Miss me?" You asked teasingly, your arms looped around his neck as you looked up at him. He chuckled. "More than you'll ever know."

The hospital doors hissed shut behind them, sealing off the faint beeping and sterile scent that clung to every corridor. Outside, the light was thin and cold, late afternoon softening toward evening. The Sidemen lingered on the steps in a loose, uneven circle, hands buried in their pockets, the silence between them heavier than it should have been after a charity visit.

Harry stared at the ground, thumbs hooked in his hoodie’s pocket, shoulders drawn in. He’d come to make children smile, to brighten someone else’s day, but somewhere between the laughter and the goodbyes, he’d watched a woman he once knew better than himself look straight through him.

Alina had been polite. Professional. Cold in a way that left bruises. She hadn’t yelled. She hadn’t needed to.

“Alright,” Josh said finally, voice breaking through the quiet. “Am I crazy, or was that doctor really weird with you?”

Harry’s stomach dropped. He’d prayed they wouldn’t notice.

Simon gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah, man. You know her?”

Harry tried for casual and missed. “It’s nothing.”

None of them bought it.

He shifted, scuffed his shoe against the pavement, the words catching in his throat. “It’s… complicated.”

A pause, then a sigh. “She’s from Guernsey. We grew up together.”

Ethan frowned. “You never mentioned her.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s voice thinned. “It’s been a long time. She was my best friend. We were—” his jaw tightened, “—together. Before I left for London.”

Josh let out a low whistle. “Well. That explains the arctic chill.”

Tobi clapped him lightly on the back. “You gonna talk to her?”

Harry shook his head. “She doesn’t want to hear anything I have to say.”

“You don’t know that,” Vik offered quietly.

“I do,” Harry said, voice final.

He turned toward the parking lot. The air had cooled into that uncertain hour between day and night, when the sky turned blue-grey and the world began to dim. Behind him, the others fell into quiet conversation, but Harry kept walking. He didn’t look back.

Alina shoved her scrubs into her locker with a force that rattled the metal. The clang echoed too loudly, slicing through the hum of the hospital. Around her, life carried on — nurses swapped shifts, wheels rolled down the hall, monitors beeped on. It was early evening now, the sharp edges of the day softening into the rhythm of the night shift.

She was angry. At him for showing up. At herself for caring that he had. Ten years should have dulled everything — his voice, the way her stomach twisted when he said her name, the image of his face the day he left. But none of it had faded. Her pulse betrayed her; it still remembered.

The air outside had turned cool and violet. She crossed the empty service road and found a bench beneath a flickering streetlamp in the small park beside the hospital. The world was still except for the distant hum of traffic and the rustle of leaves. Peaceful, if she hadn’t been living inside a noise that only she could hear.

Her phone felt heavy. She called before she could talk herself out of it.

“Love?” her mother’s voice came warm and faintly breathless, like she’d been in the middle of folding laundry. “Everything alright?”

Alina closed her eyes. “Yeah. I just… wanted to hear your voice.”

The pause that followed was patient, expectant. “Tell me,” her mother said softly.

“Tell you what?”

“Whatever made you call me in the middle of your shift,” came the calm reply. “You never call without a reason.”

Alina leaned back, the streetlamp’s light brushing her cheek. “He came to the hospital today. Part of a celebrity visit for the kids.”

A small silence. “Who?”

“Harry.” The name cracked slightly. “He called me Nina.”

Her laugh was dry, humourless. “Like no time had passed.”

“And how did that feel?” her mother asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Alina admitted. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”

“You don’t have to know,” her mother said. Then, quieter, firmer: “You don’t owe him anything.”

Alina smiled faintly, her eyes on the empty swings swaying in the wind. “I know. It was just… strange. Seeing him again.”

“Go home,” her mother said. “Eat something warm. Sleep.”

“I will,” Alina promised.

When the call ended, she stayed a while longer, breathing until her heartbeat stopped sounding like panic. The light flickered once, and by the time she rose, the last of the sunset was gone.

Home smelled like fabric softener and leftover takeout. The windows fogged slightly from the heater; Edward’s car was parked outside. She climbed the steps, shoulders heavy, and pushed open the door.

“Finally!” Joan called from the couch, eyes on her tablet. “We were about to send a search party.”

“Sorry,” Alina said, dropping her bag near the door. Her voice was small, her energy stretched thin.

From the armchair, Edward turned, controller still in hand, his blond hair a mess. “You’re acting weird.”

"No, I'm not," Alina said, turning to him a little too quick, her voice snappy.

“She’s being cagey,” Matilda said, stepping out of the kitchen with two mugs of tea, her copper hair glowing under the light. “Which means something happened.”

Alina sank into the couch, the cushions sighing under her weight. “I’m fine.”

Edward let out a laugh. “You’re never fine when you say it like that.”

On the rug, Victoria looked up from her laptop, her dark hair slipping over one shoulder as she closed it softly. “What happened? Another stupid parent?”

“No,” Alina said, eyes fixed on the table. “Just… long day.”

Joan glanced up, sharp and unblinking. “Alina. What’s going on?”

Alina’s fingers tugged at her sleeve. She knew her friends were not letting it go, and maybe a part of her was relieved that she was gonna talk about this with someone. “You know, the visitors today — the Sidemen — one of them was someone I knew. From back home.”

“Which one?” Matilda asked, curiosity edging her tone.

Before Alina could answer, Edward gasped. “You knew Harry Lewis and never told me?”

Joan sighed. “How do you even know it was him?”

“He’s from Guernsey!” Edward said, gesturing wildly as if it was something he expected everyone to know. “And you live with me! He’s my favorite Sidemen!” He continued turning her attention back to Alina a look of betrayal on his face.

Alina didn’t blink. “There’s nothing to tell. We grew up on the same street. It was a long time ago.”

Edward stared, unconvinced. “But it’s Harry Lewis.”

“Not everything revolves around your YouTube crush, Ed,” Joan muttered.

“I don’t have a—ow!” Matilda’s foot had clearly found its target. Victoria hid her smile behind her mug, the motion so subtle only Alina caught it.

Victoria set her drink down and leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to explain anything.”

“I know,” Alina said, softer now. “It just caught me off guard. That’s all.”

Joan tilted her head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Then, after a pause: “Was he important to you?”

“No,” Alina said quickly. Then, quieter: “Yes.”

The room stilled. No one pushed. They just let the silence settle.

Matilda placed a cup in Alina’s hands. “You want to talk about it?”

Alina shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about. He was my best friend. Then he left. We didn’t keep in touch.”

No one argued. The hum of the house filled the space instead — the soft crackle of the heater, the sound of spoons against mugs. Joan rose after a moment. “I’m getting cake. Anyone else?”

A few murmured yeses followed. Edward, still half turned toward the TV, gave Alina a softer look. “You sure you’re okay?”

She forced a smile, delicate but holding. “I’m fine.”

The words felt thin in the air. Victoria’s eyes flicked toward her, gentle, watchful, the kind of look that said she didn’t believe it but wouldn’t call her out — not tonight. Across the room, Edward caught the glance, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them before he turned back to his controller.

Within half an hour, you’d managed to navigate the London traffic that separated both yours and Harry’s apartments. You were still pulling the hoodie over your head when you walked into the lift and hit the button for Harry’s floor. Ethan was waiting for you outside of the front door, arms crossed over his chest as he paced around a small section of the corridor.

“Hey”, he sighed, a small ounce of relief seeming to wash over him.

“Where is he?”, you asked instead of a greeting. Ethan nodded, and motioned for you to follow him into the apartment. As you expected, he led you down to Harry’s room. You passed the living room, where a multitude of shoes and coats had been discarded, and straight into the bedroom where the rest of the Sidemen and Cal congregated.

You got a few looks from some of the boys as you walked through the group and made a beeline for Harry’s bed. “Hey”, you whispered, perching yourself on the side of his bed.

Harry looked up at you, tears immediately filling his eyes. He pulled the duvet up and around his face more, trying to hide his blotchy skin and the dried tear tracks that you’d already noticed. “What’s this about?”, you asked him quietly.

“He won’t speak to us”, Josh said, voice laced with frustration and worry. You nodded at him before turning back to face Harry.

“I can’t help if you don’t speak to me”, you told him. 

As much as Harry had hurt you, nothing hurt more than walking away from his front door after returning the cardboard box with his stuff in it. Seeing him like this, as a shell of the person you thought you were going to spend forever with, was crushing.

You rested your palm on the side of Harry’s face, feeling the rough facial hair that had been building up on his cheeks since you’d last left his apartment. “Harry”, you whispered. You left your spot on the side of the bed in favour of kneeling on the floor so you could come face to face with him, chin propped on his mattress. You let a hand rest on his hair, scratching his scalp gently. “Please”.

“I’m so sorry”, he choked suddenly. “I’m so sorry”, he repeated, just as brokenly.

Fresh tears were running down Harry’s cheeks, dampening the pillowcase under his face. “Is that what’s caused this?”, you asked him gently, swooping your thumb down to wipe away a few of his tears. Harry’s nod was barely noticeable. “Will you talk to me about it?”, you asked, voice still just as soft.

Harry’s eyes met yours before darting around the room. You could see when he’d made his decision, recoiling back in on himself. “Tell you what, I’ll bring you a brew and give you a bit and then see how you’re doing”, you suggested, standing up from your spot and turning around to make your way out of the room.

You turned back to the boys, silently urging them out of the room before pulling Harry’s bedroom door shut and walking towards the kitchen to make him the promised cup of tea.

“Shouldn’t someone be in there with him?”, Vik asked.

“No”, you told him simply. “He’s not the best with people anyway but he’ll just be overwhelmed with this many people if he’s this upset”, you explained. As you waited for the kettle to boil, back rested against the kitchen counter, you turned to Cal. “How long has he been like this?”, you asked him.

“I mean, he’s been bad since you left him”, Cal said with a slight edge to his voice. “But he’s been bad since you brought his stuff round”, he sighed.

“Are you saying that this is my fault?”, you asked, voice turning defensive. The six other men in the room stiffened. Cal hadn’t been there for the blowout between you and Harry and you doubted that he’d been informed about anything that was said.

“Maybe this is a conversation for later”, Josh tried to mediate, voice hesitant and wary.

“No, she needs to hear that this is her fault”, Cal defended. “Bog’s in there on his arse because she’s a selfish cow”, he spat.

You scoffed, turning around to busy yourself with making Harry a cup of tea. “Look”, you said, before anyone could step in and cause any arguments. “You can think what you want about me, but I’m just trying to help Harry. If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave”, you told him simply.

Cal was silent after that and stayed out of the way. He refused to look at the others who kept sending him funny looks and he stepped out of your way when you went to take Harry’s drink down to him. Your murmured ‘thank you’ when unacknowledged, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

Harry was in the same position that you’d left him in, bundled up in the duvet staring blankly ahead at the wall. “Here you go”, you said, placing the cup down on the side table, perching on the side of the bed as you did so. Your hand returned to his hair, stroking through the messy, knotty pile of dirty blond. “I’ll come back in a bit, yeah? Drink that and see if you come ‘round a bit”, you told him, letting your hand have one more smooth over his hair before you got up and left.

You paused in the hallway after you’d shut Harry’s door. You let your head lean back against the wall as you tried and failed to fight the tears that had been bubbling just beneath the surface ever since you’d arrived at Harry’s. Seeing him in the state he was in seemed to reopen all the wounds that you’d managed to emergency triage over the last week or so and it ached so deeply that you didn’t know how to cope.

“Y/N?”, a voice asked from down the hallway. You stood up straight as quick as you could, scrubbing the tears off of your face and sniffing unattractively. “Are you okay?”, Josh asked you, coming closer.

“Yeah”, you told him, but your blotchy face and broken voice gave you away instantly.

“Freya told me how hard this has been for you”, Josh whispered, standing in front of you. “I tried to get Ethan to not call you but…”, he trailed off. “I’m so sorry”, he said.

“What for?”, you asked him, running the sleeves of your jumper under your eyes once again.

“Harry told us everything… I hope”, Josh started. “We were all awful to you and we thought we were protecting Harry. You don’t deserve any of that”, he told you.

“Cal clearly doesn’t have that idea”, you laughed sadly. “Me and Harry both kept secrets, we thought it was the best thing for the both of us. If I knew he was this bad…”, you trailed off.

“Come on, there’s a tea for you in here”, Josh said, guiding you towards the living room. He handed you a cup of tea that had been left on the side for you and went to sit down with the rest of the boys. You sat down in the free corner of the sofa, putting your cup down so you could wipe your tears once again.

“Why did you never tell us?”, Simon asked. “How bad he’d got? Why did you let us hate you?”.

“I don’t know”, you told him truthfully. “It was easier, I guess”, you shrugged.

“If we’d have known…”, Tobi started, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know, we’d have done something, though”. Each of the boys looked distressed, seeing Harry the way he was was taking a toll on everyone, but so was finding out the truth after 6 years worth of lies.

“I know that, but I don’t think he did. Or does”, you said sadly. “He’s terrified of disappointing any of you. I was terrified of disappointing him”, you shrugged weakly. “So I did everything I could to make sure that I didn’t”, you admitted.

Talking about it felt like pouring salt in the reopened wounds. “I guess that didn’t work”, you whispered to yourself, but the room was so deathly quiet that you may as well have shouted it.

“What do you mean?”, Ethan asked. “What didn’t work?”.

“Harry’s always deserved better than me, I guess he finally figured that out”, you said, as though it was obvious. 6 of the 7 faces in front of you wore incredulous expressions. “What?”.

“Harry said that he’s always thought you deserved better than him”, Josh told you sadly. “That that’s why he tried to push you away”.

You looked down to the cup in your hands, fingers tapping relentlessly as you tried to process what Josh had just told you without breaking down into floods of tears once again. “I never knew that”, you said, voice cracking around your tears. “I never thought it would end up like this”.

Nobody knew what to say to you. Josh and Simon had an idea from Freya and Talia about how hard this had hit you and you still dropped everything and came running when Ethan told you that Harry needed your help.

“I know I don’t know everything and I probably have no right to even say anything, but it’s painfully obvious that the two of you still love each other”, Josh told you. “You’re the only person he’s interacted with, let alone spoken to, in the last week”, he reminded you.

“What if loving each other isn’t enough?”, you asked brokenly. You could see the pity written across everyone’s face, even Cal’s, but that did nothing to ease the pain that was hacking away at your insides. 

It was clear that no one had an answer, so you sat up straight, took a deep breath and wiped your face. “I’ll be back in a bit”, you told them. “I’ll text someone if we need anything”, you promised.

You knocked on Harry’s bedroom door, but didn’t wait for a response before walking in and pushing the door half shut behind you. The mug on his side table was empty but Harry had curled himself back under the covers. He looked to you when you came in, before letting his eyes drift closed. He looked exhausted, but you weren’t surprised if he hadn’t been looking after himself.

“What can I do?”, you asked, sitting down next to Harry. He only shrugged in response, still not opening his eyes. “Harry, this isn’t safe, baby”, you whispered, letting your hand rest on his face again. You watched as Harry leaned into your touch, moving his head slightly so that as much of your skin as possible was touching his.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered again, voice a little less hoarse than before. “I don’t deserve this”.

“That’s not your choice”, you told him. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to”, you promised him.

“Don’t”, Harry said, voice as harsh as it could be given how weak he was. “I don’t deserve you looking after me again. Don’t lie and tell me you want to be here”, he whispered.

“Okay”, you said. “Sitting here hurts more than walking out the other week”, you admitted. “Because I still love you and seeing you like this is breaking my heart even more than it already is”.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut again, stray tears leaking out of the corners. In a change of plan, you stood up and went to the bathroom, grabbing the comb off of the side of the sink. “Let me know if it hurts”, you told him, before taking a small section of his hair and started working the comb through the very ends, working your way down to the roots.

You sat in the same position, slowly working your way through Harry’s hair, for 20 minutes. You did your best to cause him as little pain as possible, but some of the knots kept snagging on the comb because of how big they were. “Beautiful”, you smiled, putting the comb down on the side before turning back to him.

“Thank you, feels better”, he mumbled.

“I’m glad”, you told him, running your fingers through his, albeit greasy, knot-free hair. “Feel like taking a shower?”, you asked him, knowing Harry would find it hard to resist, especially if he hadn’t showered in a good few days.

“Wanna, but I’m too tired”, Harry murmured.

“Bath?”, you asked him. “I’ll get it running so all you need to do is go sit in there once it’s full”, you offered. You watched as the idea ran through Harry’s mind for a few moments, before he smiled up at you weakly and nodded.

Once you’d set the water running, you wandered back through to Harry’s room, sitting down next to him again. “Things aren’t right without you here”, Harry admitted. “Feels wrong”.

“I know”, you said.

“I wish I didn’t ruin everything”, he whispered.

“Josh said you always thought I deserved better than you, that that’s why you pushed me away”, you told him.

Harry looked confused. “Yeah”, he said, like it was obvious. “You’ve always deserved so much better than I can give you”.

“I always thought you deserved better than me”, you admitted. “How were we together for 6 years and didn’t even cover the basics?”, you scoffed.

“You thought you weren’t enough?”, Harry asked, and you could practically hear his heart breaking even more in his chest.

“You tried to push me away, I did everything I could to make sure I never disappointed you… I guess it was a cycle that just needed breaking”, you said sadly. “Your bath will be ready, go on”, you instructed.

While Harry was in the bath, you dug him out some clothes and a few towels and left them folded up on the sink before returning to his bedroom and finding out a fresh set of bedding.

By the time Harry had dried himself off from the bath and gotten dressed, you’d stripped and remade the bed and shoved the bedding into a laundry basket. “You didn’t have to do this”, Harry told you as soon as he spotted the fresh bedding.

“I know, but I need you to be okay and looking after you is the only way I know to make sure that you’re okay”, you told him honestly.

“Are you okay?”, Harry asked you bluntly, coming to sit on his bed. “Tell me the truth”, he whispered, taking your fingers in his.

“No”, you admitted quietly, eyes trained on your fingers.

“Talk to me”, he said quietly.

“I’m not ready to stop loving you yet but I’m scared that it’s not enough to try and make this work”, you said, eyes burning with brewing tears. “I don’t think I can ever stop loving you”, you croaked, tears finally spilling over and dropping onto your conjoined fingers.

Harry wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you between his legs, tucking your head beneath his chin. He squeezed you tightly as you sobbed unabashedly into his chest. Harry kept his head rested on yours, keeping you cocooned in his frame. It also meant that you wouldn’t be able to see the tears flooding his eyes at the sight of you so broken.

“I know I’ll never be able to stop loving you”, he admitted quietly, lips catching on your hair as he spoke. “I know the second tries have never worked before, but we never actually spoke about what was wrong”, Harry told you.

“Maybe breaking up and getting the whole truth out to everyone was the best thing that could happen for us”, you said weakly. “Well, I say that like you’ve not just had your first shower in a week and I’m not holding things together by a thread”, you snorted.

“I meant what I said”, Harry said suddenly after a few moments of silence. “Things aren’t right when you aren’t in my life. And it’s not just because we’ve been together for 6 years”, he told you. “I mean, like, I’ll see something on twitter and my first thought is that you’d find it funny, and how I nearly started crying in M & S because they were out of your favourite pasta shapes and then I remembered how much you hate M & S so I had to leave before I had a breakdown in the pasta aisle”, Harry said.

“I cried in Asda because I walked past a couple bickering about sushi and whether or not it was nice”, you admitted before laughing through the remnants of your tears as you sat up. “We’ve spoken more today than we have in the last 2 years”, you reminded him.

“Maybe another shot is worth it. You make me too happy to not try”, Harry whispered, resting a hand on your cheek and smiling softly when you leaned into it. “I love you too much not to try”.

Instead of replying, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Harry’s. “I love you, too”, you whispered against his lips. You kissed him once more before pulling back and smiling at him.

You and Harry walked back out into the living room a few moments later, both still with blotchy faces and drying tear tracks and a few fingers hooked together. Harry ducked his head, a shy smile crossing his face when he saw that everyone was staring at the two of you.

Harry smushed himself into the corner of the sofa and quickly pulled you down to sit in the small space beside him. His arm rested over the back of the sofa, fingers twiddling your hair absentmindedly as you let your head drop to his shoulder tiredly.

“So... you all good, Bog?”, Ethan asked warily.

Harry turned to you briefly, an unmistakable look of bliss settling onto his features when your eyes darted up to meet his. The smile that you gave him pulled all the broken pieces back to the centre and the way you rubbed your cheek sleepily against his shoulder glued them all back together again.

Harry looked back up to Ethan, letting his arm behind your head drop down to cradle your shoulder and hold you to his body.