"Now you were standing there right in front of me. I hold on, it's getting harder to breathe" - Harry Styles

• • • • •

How do you justify cheating? How do you look a girl in the eyes and tell her that although you lied to her and fucked her over, you still care about her? That you truly, honestly made a mistake? And that you're not a bad person?

The short answer is, you can't.

The long answer goes a little something like this.

"I'm sorry," I say again.

Jules glances to the side as if to say, Yeah, sure you are.

"It was very wrong of me. I've been a proper jerk, I know."

"So why'd you do it?" she asks.

"Idunno. I knew I wanted to be with you but I didn't know if you wanted me the same way, so I kept Samanthora around just in case. I was afraid, I guess... of being alone."

Admitting that makes me cringe, but I have to keep on with it. I didn't come here to tell her the partial truth, I've got to tell her the whole truth, no matter how terrible and shallow it is. She deserves to know.

She tilts her head to the side, examining me like an advanced calculus problem. "How is it possible that there are so many guys like you in the world?"

"Guys like me?"

"Yeah, the ones who think they can have it all, have their cake and eat it too." Her expression is serious now, rigid and cold.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, although I already have an idea.

"Harry, you weren't afraid of being alone. You just wanted to have a girlfriend and a side bitch at the same time. Why can't you be satisfied with just one girl? Why do guys like you wanna have it all?"

"You are not a side bitch," I promptly state, trying to keep my voice from reverberating across this small, silent neighborhood. "You were never anything like that."

She shakes her head as a faint laugh leaves her lips.

"What?" I ask.

"I just remembered something," she says, still laughing. "I felt guilty---guilty---for flirting with another guy, but all along you had another girlfriend."

All I can say in response is, "You what who?"

"Some guy named Jebb " she answers. "He was a friend of my coworker. I thought he was cute and he was hitting on me but it didn't go any further than that. I didn't want it to. I liked you too much."

The air around me seems to thicken at this news. Suddenly, my breathing requires more of my effort.

She pauses and chuckles again, indicating that she might have recalled something else. "But you know what's even funnier? He asked me if you were 'shagging other women' and I so confidently told him no. Isn't that hilarious? I told him no, when in fact, you were fucking other girls." She becomes hysterical at this point, to the extent that I almost believe her laughs. "You're a user, just like the rest of them. You take what you want, and then you leave. That's what you were gonna do, weren't you? You were either gonna leave or you were gonna tell me the truth."

Her words gash through me like a knife with jagged edges because I know they're not true. I hadn't been using her. I wouldn't even think of it. But I know I hurt her and I have to prove to her that I would never again, if she ever gives me the chance.

On top of that, I don't fuck. I never fuck. I also never shag, boink, screw, bang or anything of that sort. I make love, and Jules was one of the only times in my life that I have.

"When were you gonna leave, Harry?"

"I wasn't," I creak, and it's true. Leaving had been the last thing on my mind, if at all.

"Then when were you gonna tell me the truth?"

And my heart sinks because to that, I have no answer. I was afraid, yes, but telling her myself would have been better than letting her find out through an angry voice mail. Anything would have been better than that.

Jules registers my silence and sighs. "We should've stayed friends. Nothing more," she says, her voice hitched with regret.

"You don't really mean that."

She pauses momentarily and looks at me, and right there in those desolate, hollow eyes, I can see her starlight dimming. There's a heavy feeling in my chest as I feel a responsiblity to rekindle her fire and make her beam again, the way she always has. I have one thing left to try, something I had hoped I wouldn't need to resort to. I swallow hard before going on.

"Remember when we were at Membley Stadium and we had a contest to see who could roll down the hill the quickest?" I ask.

She gives me the briefest of nods.

"Remember how we bet on a secret? My secret?"

She nods again, and I swear there's hint of a smile on her thin, rosy lips. "You never told me what it was."

I glance at the ground, mustering what little confidence and courage remained and try to settle the nerves that made my hands quiver.

"My secret was," I say, locking my eyes with hers, "that I love you."

Jules takes a sharp inhale and holds it while she gawks at me with wide, incredulous eyes. Her eyebrows scrunch together. She subtly shakes her head at first, and then more prominently. She seems to be shaking her head a lot tonight, and I wish I knew of a way to turn them into nods.

"No, you don't," she whispers, letting go of her breath at last.

I had expected that, but it doesn't make it sting any less.

"Yes, I do."

"No, Harry, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Stop saying that! You don't!" she says harshly.

"See, that's exactly why I didn't want to tell you."

"What?"

"I kept it a secret because I knew it would scare you away. I knew you didn't want me to fall in love with you. And that night at the stadium, I only wanted to tell you that I think I love you. But slowly, without my awareness, I realized that I do. I know I do."

She's unresponsive again, so I take a small step toward her, as if being physically closer to my heart will allow her to see inside of it. I'm close enough now to fully appreciate the dark curtain of eyelashes that hang down, contrasting against her fair skin, as she casts her eyes to the ground.

"I love you, Jules."

She instantly takes a step back and looks up at me, her thick black lashes fanning all around and framing her analyzing eyes.

"No," she says in a jagged voice. "You don't love me, Harry. You don't lie to people you love! You don't cheat on people you love!" I notice that her eyes have started to glisten as she stubbornly looks away. When she blinks, a silent droplet streaks down her cheek, and she refuses to return my eye contact.

It cuts me deeper than any words she could ever say to me, knowing that I caused that tear. I have an urge to reach over and gently wipe it away with my thumb, tell her I'm sorry and that I'll never hurt her again. But I fight that urge because I know she's too far away now for me to do that. I've got to figure out how to bring her back.

"I know what I did was wrong," I shamefully whisper, "but I meant every single word I said to you. "

"Harry..."

"And you know what? You're right, what you said about cake. I was selfish and greedy like a child. But I don't want to have my cake and eat it anymore. I just want the cake, end of. You're my cake, Jules."

"Har---"

"I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I cheated. I'm sorry I let you down and proved to be no different than all the idiots that have hurt you in the past. I'm sorry I didn't treat you the way you deserved, and you deserve better." After rambling without stop, I finally take a breath, biting back the lump constricting my throat.

"If you never want to see me again," I tentatively say, "I'll understand. But I... I love you. More than I know how to put into words. There was nothing else for me to do but to come here and tell you that."

Finally she meets my gaze. Her eyes still have a sheen of tears but they're incredibly light and so warm. They remind me of two cups of hot cocoa, like the ones we shared the last night I spent with her. I want to wrap my arms around her and take us back to that, back to my bed where this icy wind can't touch us. I want to tell her she's beautiful. Feel her soft skin against mine. Listen to her breathe. Fall asleep with her.

Her lips are slightly parted but no words escape from them. They're tender and pink, pinker than the rose I picked for her outside in the rain. The one sitting between us when she told me she's eating the best pizza in the world, when I first knew I had to have her, no matter what lengths it took.

Now, those lips tempt me as I watch them. I have never wanted to kiss her as much as I do now. I want to kiss her slowly and mend all the wounds I've created in her heart. I want to taste her every inhale, her every exhale. I want to taste her forgiveness.

Jules remains silent as her pupils dance back and forth between mine. She's not biting at her lips like she habitually does, so I can't tell if she's considering my words, but I desperately hope she is. I have nothing left to help me climb out of this mess. I love her, and I can only hope that it's enough.

"Were you going to say something?" I ask.

She sighs, then murmurs, "It's been five minutes." She's almost inaudible over the howling breeze. I can't tell if it's my imagination, but she appears paler than she had been at the beginning of our conversation, like a star that's been has exhausted of all its energy. "Goodnight, Harry."

She retreats back inside and shuts the door. Her movements are slow enough to allow me plenty of time to stop her again but I don't. I can't. I've forgotten how to move. My whole body is as frozen as this dead December night.

Her words hang in the air for a while, everything she said from her first "Harry?" to her final "Goodnight." It rings crisp and clear in my mind as I stand and stare at the door, wishing I could telepathically bring her back. My efforts are all in vain. My universe, my galaxy, my Andromeda Galaxy, has flickered off like a burned out light bulb. All there's left is a black hole, a kind of emptiness that I fear can never be filled.

Perhaps from being so consumed in my words, I had completely forgotten about the flat package that I've been holding behind me, It's a gift wrapped in white and red stripes and adorned with a dark green bow.

I leave it on the doorstep, standing it upright on the rubber mat.

"Merry Christmas, Jules," I whisper to the unforgiving door, before turning around and marching back into the snowy woods.

Notes