Harry's P.O.V

“Harry! Psst! Harry!” I was being shaken awake. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to wake up. “Harry!” someone whispered again harshly, and I recognized Isabelle’s voice. Immediately my eyes shot open and I took her in. She was still dressed in only her underwear, which made my mouth go dry. Her hair was still in its slick ponytail, except a few strands had fallen out, seeming to frame her face perfectly. She was gorgeous. Except, now, I noticed that she wore a look of pure horror on her face.

“Harry?” she hissed again, “My head hurts.”

Suddenly her eyes widened and she threw the blankets off of her, making a break for the loo. I stood quickly and hurried after her, my mouth going dry when I realised that we were still both only in our underwear.

She was kneeling over the toilet, vomiting. I pursed my lips, leaning down and rubbing her back. Once she emptied out, she sat back, leaning against the wall, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Come on,” I murmured, picking her up and bringing her back into the bedroom. She lay down on the bed, and I slid back in beside her. We were silent for a few moments until she turned around, propping herself up on her elbow, “Can you get me something?”

I understood what she meant.

I nodded, groaned, and sat up, making my way into the bathroom, where I opened a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Advil. I quickly uncapped the container and shook a pill into my hand, and grabbed a glass from the sink, filling it with water. Then I walked back into the bedroom, clutching the cup tightly.

“Here,” I said gently, handing my girlfriend the medicine and then running my fingers through my hair, tousling it. She quickly popped the pill into her mouth and then took a swig of water, swallowing in a large gulp.

“Thanks,” she muttered, staring down at the blanket that was mostly covering her body. I shifted my feet before sitting down on the bed. She looked away trying to avoid my eyes.

“Hey,” I said gently, cupping her chin. She licked her lips and stared up at me, her eyes reddening.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” she barely whispered, and a tear slipped out of her left eye, trailing down her cheek. She took a deep shaky breath, and I shook my head uncomprehendingly.

“Wait. What—?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, pulling her chin from my grasp, and falling back onto the pillows, sobbing quietly. I watched her body shake with each sob and leaned down, lying beside her, trying to comfort her. “Shh,” I said, “Baby, what’s wrong?” she hiccupped and shook her head, still not looking up to meet my eyes.

“I bet I was terrible,” she whispered shakily, and suddenly, my brain finally wrapped around the concept she’d begun to think about. Oh.

“Baby,” I said, smiling slightly, not only because she was so naïve, but also because I was calling her ‘baby’, and she wasn’t telling me to stop. I put my hand on her back, my fingers brushing along the skin that her bra didn’t conceal. Just doing that made me swallow harshly.

“Love, we didn’t—um, you know…” I trailed off as she stared at me, her eyes widening.

“We—we didn’t?” she breathed, gripping the pillow tightly in her hands. I shook my head again, “No, we didn’t. Do you not remember?”

She gulped, “Not a thing.” I smiled lightly, trying to ease the mood. I didn’t want her to cry. She was so special to me, and I didn’t want her to feel pressured in any way, because that was the last thing I wanted her to feel. “Well,” I said, suddenly turning serious, and remembering the events of last night. I clenched my jaw tightly, “You got very drunk. And some faggot who didn’t look to be more than sixteen tried to get in your pants. I took you and Gemma home.”

“And?” she whispered, pushing some hair out of her eyes. I caught her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. “Well,” I said, “I left Gemma in the car,” we both laughed quietly, “And then I brought you up here. I let you change out of your dress and then tucked you into bed. Then I changed into only my boxers and went to brush my teeth.”

I decided to leave out the part where she asked me why I hadn’t wanted to sleep with her. Of course I wanted to sleep with her. Was she mental? I just didn’t want to do it while she was drunk. I also left out the part where she’d said she loved me…and I’d said it back.

“Um,” I shifted around uncomfortably, “So yeah…that’s it.” I hoped that she wouldn’t see through the façade I was putting up. She narrowed her eyes for a second but then nodded, looking slightly ashamed, “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions,” she admitted, “I just—I woke up, and there you were, in your boxers, and then I was in my underwear, and my head hurt, so I just figured that I’d been drunk and you—you…” she trailed off, her bottom lip quivering.

“Oh, no,” I said, pulling her to me and enveloping her in a tight hug. Her hands wrapped around my waist and brushed the elastic band of my boxers, and I subconsciously flashed back to last night.

“I would never take advantage of you,” I whispered fiercely in her ear. She nodded and a moment later a felt her lips kiss my chest lightly, on one of my sparrow tattoos. I closed my eyes, continuing to crush her in a hug, wanting her to know how much I cared about her.

“You’re amazing Harry,” she sobbed into my chest.

“Shh,” I consoled her, nuzzling my face into her bare-ish shoulder, “Shh, love.”

She pulled back and crashed her lips against mine. This time, I still tasted alcohol, but the kiss was warm and familiar. I could sense her sobriety and I was grateful that she was here with me, even though last night had been extremely awkward. I kissed her harder, not wanting her to break the kiss and ask me more questions about last night; I had a feeling I’d slip up.

She rolled on top of me, planting her knees on the bed beside my hips. Desperate to take our kissing to the next level, I licked at her bottom lip lightly, demanding for an entrance. She kept her mouth closed and smiled against my lips, teasing me. A growling sound emitted from the back of my throat, and I slid one of my hands down her body until I reached her bum. I squeezed.

She gasped lightly, and I abused the opportunity, slipping my tongue into her mouth. I wanted to kiss her properly. Our tongues battled ferociously for dominance, and eventually, her hands found their way into my hair, where she fisted my curls and tugged lightly. I rolled us around so that I was on top and grinded my hips lightly down on hers. I could feel her shake lightly as she pressed her lips deeper into the kiss.

Just when it seemed as though we were about to take things to the next level, there was a series of frantic knocks on the door. “Harold Fucktard Styles!” Gemma shrieked from behind the door, “Get your fucking arse out here this instant! How many times do I have to tell you not to leave me in the car when I’m stoned? Quit screwing your girlfriend and come here! Now!”

Isabelle pulled back, looking slightly flustered. Her cheeks were pink and she caught her breath before whispered, “I think you should go talk to her.”

“Screw her,” I breathed, and I pulled her lips back down onto mine. We resumed kissing passionately until Gemma pounded on the door again, screaming, “Harold!”

I groaned, figuring that Gem wouldn’t leave us alone until she got to yell at me. I honestly wasn’t scared. I’d learned a long time ago to just tune her out. “I’m coming!” I bellowed, breaking our kiss, “Keep your thong on!”

Isabelle giggled and I climbed off of her, pecking her lips once more before I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and went to confront a very angry she-beast.

***

As soon as I stepped outside, Gemma grinned at me.

“What the fuck?” I spat out, and she giggled quietly, “Oh Harold, do you really think that I’d be mad at you? I’m used to it. Now, let’s get down to the juicy stuff.”

“First of all,” I snapped, “Don’t call me Harold. My name is Harry. Second of all, what the hell are you talking about?” Gemma only giggled again, and tried to stifle it by putting her hand to her palm. “Did she say it?” she asked, and my mind suddenly went blank.

“Say what?” I asked tiredly, my anger slowly sapping out of me, replaced with exhaustion. Gemma raised an eyebrow, “Don’t give me that shit, baby brother. Did she say that she loved you?” suddenly my head snapped up, and I stood a bit straighter. Apparently Gemma noticed, because she grinned knowingly, “Ah,” she nodded serenely, “There we go.”

“I think you’re still a bit tipsy Gem,” I snapped again, really not wanting to have this conversation with my older sister. I tried to lie and tell her off through denial, “Maybe you should go lie down.”

“Trust me, I’m completely sober,” Gemma assured me, still smiling smugly. I wanted to punch her in the face. Suddenly, I was just so angry at her. She’d interrupted my time with Isabelle, and now she was poking her nose into my private life, which was a place that she was not allowed to pry through, especially when it came to my relationships.

“I figured that she would say it,” Gemma continued, waving her hand in the air and looking proud of herself, “As you know, ‘A drunken man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts’. So there you go.”

“Why do you think she loves me?” I sneered, my eyes narrowing. Gemma closed her eyes, trying to act nonchalant, “No reason, no reason,” her eyes snapped open and she smiled widely, “Just the fact that she told me herself. She was really nervous about it, mind you. She kept on thinking that you didn’t feel the same way. But I was like ‘Please dear, he practically adores you! He can’t get enough of you! He’s so in love that—’”

“What?” I exploded, suddenly overwhelmed with this information. Gemma broke off, looking at me oddly, “Haz, calm down. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, “What’s wrong? Gemma, you put words in my mouth! You spoke for me! What if I didn’t feel that way at all?”

“So she told you?” Gemma said excitedly, squealing when she received a nod in response.

She clapped her hands, “Yay! Because that was my whole plan, you know. Getting her drunk so that she’d say it. Smart eh?”

“What?” I bellowed again. I clenched my hands at my sides, furiously fisting the material of my sweatpants, “Gemma, you got her so drunk that she almost let a random fucker get into her pants! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What?” Gemma frowned slightly. I nodded vigorously, “Yeah! So congratulations on being an idiot, once again!” I was fuming. How could Gemma let Isabelle get super drunk and then just leave her to fend for herself? For God’s sake, she didn’t even know whether I would come back or not!

“Well,” Gemma crossed her arms, “Did you say it back?”

“What?” I asked, still furious.

“Did you say it back Harry? Did you tell her that you loved her back?”

I had. I did. I did love her. But Gemma had pried way too far into my love life, and I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that through some, twisted way, her plan had worked out. I was pissed off at her, and I didn’t want her to know anything else about my private life, so I shook my head and said, “No, I didn’t Gem! Because I don’t effing love her! Are you happy?”

Gemma looked taken aback, as if I’d slapped her. Her eyes widened, and they flicked past me and onto something else. I turned around and my gaze landed on Isabelle standing in the doorway, now changed into a pair of shorts and one of my old t-shirts. Her hair was still tied in a ponytail, but her cheeks and her eyes were red, her bottom lip quivering.

No, I immediately thought, and I took a step towards her, “Belle, I—”

“Just,” she took a step back, holding up her hands, and I could see her composure collapsing, “Don’t Harry,” she whispered, staring into my eyes. Her eyes held so much sadness and pain that I immediately wanted to punch myself, “Just don’t.”

She pushed past me and quickly walked down the hall, into the guest bedroom, closing the door softly. I would’ve preferred it if she’d screamed at me, but her calmness made me feel even worse. Gemma and I stood, our mouths agape, staring in the direction of the door.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” Gemma said quietly. I shook my head, “Please leave me alone.”
Gemma nodded fearfully and hurried down the hall, ducking into her own room.

***

“Belle, please!” I called out, pounding on the door. I heard scuffling behind the door, probably Isabelle pacing. “Just go away Harry!” I heard her say, and her voice cracked when she said my name. I banged on the door again, finally putting my forehead to the wall, and letting my hand slide down the wood, dropping to my side. I felt terrible.

“Belle, I didn’t mean it!” I called out, my forehead still pressed against the door. Just then, she surprised me by opening it. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she had quickly abandoned my attire, replacing it with her own jeans and shirt. That alone hurt me deeply.

“You don’t love me Harry,” she snapped, staring up at me, “You don’t, you never did. And you lied to me. Again. So excuse me if I’m mad at you!” she slammed the door in my face, and I took a deep breath, banging on it again. I didn’t want her to be mad at me. I couldn’t bear it. I loved Isabelle, and feeling like I was losing her was a horrifying feeling.

“Please!” I yelled, my knocks getting weaker and weaker. I sobbed and sank down to my knees, putting my face in my hands. How did such a wonderful morning turn into such a disaster? It was all Gemma’s fault. I wanted to kill her.

“Please Isabelle,” I sobbed, running a hand through my hair, stressed, “Please.”

“Leave me alone Harry,” I heard Isabelle plead in a whisper. I could guess she was crying too, which only brought more tears to my eyes, “Please just leave me alone.”

***

It had been an hour. A full effing hour and she still hadn’t come out. I was getting desperate, and a few tears slipped from my eyes. I wiped them away quickly, not wanting to seem vulnerable. “Belle, please,” I whispered. There was no reply. Getting fed up, and, as I already mentioned before, very desperate, I jiggled the knob of the door. Dammit. It was locked.

Then I had an idea. I quickly darted into my washroom, where I’d helped Isabelle clean up the night before. She’d taken out a single bobby pin. Sprinting back down the hall, I held the bobby pin in my hand. I had one shot. If the tip of the pin broke, I was done.

I eased the pin into the knob and jiggled it around. Please, please, please.

Suddenly, there was a click, and I took a deep breath, turning the knob; the door swung open. I didn’t even pause to admire how skilled that was. I darted inside, not bothering about Isabelle’s privacy. She whipped around to look at me, throwing a bunch of clothes into her suitcase.

“What are you doing?” I blurted. She shook her head, “I’m sorry Harry. I’m leaving.”
“What?” I asked, my voice cracking, “Leaving?” she nodded, her eyes watering suddenly,

“I’m sorry.”

“No, please,” I said, taking a step forward, but she matched me with a step back. I kept on moving closer to her until her back was pressed up against the wall. I stared down at her,

“Please baby. You know I didn’t mean that; you know it.”

“I’m not so sure that I do,” she whispered, looking straight into my eyes. I couldn’t stop myself from breathing raggedly. “Please,” I whispered, “Please don’t do this to me.”

Then she did something that surprised me. She stood up, on her tiptoes, and kissed me softly. I immediately grabbed her waist to keep her from pulling back, wanting to stay here and kiss her forever. The kiss was full of passion…but sadness. I wondered what was going on.

Then Isabelle pulled back, resting back on the heels of her feet. I was almost tempted to screw it and pull her back to me, but something held me back. I wanted to hear what she had to say. She hesitated and looked me in the eye, “I love you Harry Styles. But I’m not so sure that you love me. I’m sorry.”

Without another word, she pushed past me, reaching for her suitcase as she went. I watched her grasp the handle and walk out of the room, almost as if it were in slow motion. I just stood there, dumbfounded for a second, before I realised what was happening. She was leaving.

“Wait!” I yelled, jolting out of my dreaming state and hurrying after her. I slipped on a pair of flip flops at the door and wrenched the front door open. The cold air hit my bare torso and my feet like a punch in the face, but I kept on going. She was at the edge of the street, only a few houses away, and I sprinted to catch up with her. “Belle, please wait!” I screamed, my voice getting lost in the wind.

She turned to me as I approached her at full speed, her mouth dropping into a cute little ‘o’.

“Harry,” she sobbed, “Please, please go back inside. I’m not worth it.” She shook her head, a tear brimming on the edge of her eye and dropping cleanly. “No!” I said, and I took her hands, “Please Isabelle, don’t leave. I love you.”

She hesitated but shook her head again, “You think you do Harry. But you don’t. I’m not capable of being loved. Please go back inside before you freeze to death.”

“I’m not leaving you!” I said loudly, pleading, begging, doing anything that could possibly heighten the chances of her staying. She sobbed again, “I’m sorry Harry. I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, she turned and ran, her suitcase trailing mindlessly behind her. I watched her go, utterly speechless. What had just happened here? I turned back and trudged towards my house. Gemma stood at the door, her mouth moving but emitting no sound. I shook my head as I stepped back inside, viciously kicking off my flip flops. Quickly, not wanting Gemma to see me fall apart, I stormed into my room and slammed the door before crumpling on the floor and curling into a ball.

And I cried like a baby.

Notes

Dayum...what's going to happen? Nobody knows...well, except me. Mwahahahaha!

Vote, comment and subscribe like crazy, and I'll post the next chapter soon! Thanks for everything babes, never did I ever think I'd get this many votes and subscribers, yet here we are!
Could all of my subscribers please vote? Thanks!

You guys rock, I mean it!

~Love all y'all~