If it's not you, then I don't think it'll ever be someone else.

Harry's curled around me, head on my chest, hand stroking my arm. He nuzzles his head, and hums. "I need to ask you something."

"Hm?" I reply, much too comfortable to form any real words.

"Do you want to meet my mum and sister?"

Oh shit. SHIT.

"No, oh fuck-- Harry, no. I'm sorry, but no."

Harry lifts his head. "What? Why?" Harry's face falls, desperately trying to figure out why my answer had come out so fast and sure. He stands abruptly, and stares down at me, baffeled. Well. Shit.

"I just-- I don't feel comfortable doing something like that. Sorry." It's a pathetic excuse for what he's asked of me, but it's the truth.

"No? Presley, you didn't meet my mum the first time we were together, and may I remind you, we were fucking engaged?"

"For two weeks." I point out.

"Two weeks or not, we were engaged, and you never met my mum. She's been asking me to meet you Presley. Why won't you?"

"Because I remember the call, when she found out we were engaged." Harry had stupidly pressed speaker on his phone. Harry had stupidly thought his mom would be happy.

I stupidly thought she'd be happy.

"To be fair, she was worried about me. She hadn't met you, Presley. You wouldn't meet my family, remember? You said we were moving too fast? You used the same excuse even after you said yes!"

"I don't want to meet your mom, Harry. I pretty sure she doesn't want to meet me either. She wants to check me out. That's a completely different thing."

"I've met your family." Harry counters back. And if I do remember it wasn't my choice.

"I was out of town with Caleb when you met my parents! We had gotten home, and found you sitting down in our living room!"

"You fucking wouldn't take me yourself," Harry spits, still hurt by the memory. "Presley, this is ridiculous. We've been together for a while now. You should've met my family a long time ago."

"Maybe," I shrug. I tend to be difficult when I'm uncomfortable, and right now I am so uncomfortable, on so many levels. "Harry, it's not going to happen. We've been back together for two months. Give it time."

"How much more time could you possibly need?! I'm not going to let this go. This should be a happy time in our stupid relationship. You're only making it difficult." Harry crosses his arms, and gives me the look that screams, 'this is far from over.' He marches forward, eyebrow raised, face frustrated. Or pissed off. I don't know. "Is it me? Are you embarrassed, and you don't want to meet my mum because you're taking it out on her? Have you always been embarrassed of me, and that's why you never wanted me to meet your family? What is it?"

"No, I'm not embarrassed of you. No, I've never been ashamed of you, and no, I'm not taking it out on your mom. Me not wanting to meet your family is just me."

Harry groans, hands running through his hair angrily. "It's not just you anymore, Presley. You met the lads with no problem. You met all of my friends without batting an eyelash. Why won't you do the same for my family?"

I rub my face, and huff.

Harry's been making good points. Harry's been right, and frustrated all this time. But even though I know this, it still doesn't motivate me enough to agree to his request.

"Presley, my mum and sister want to meet you. I don't know what else to do, to convince you." Harry's tone is soft, and hurt in a way that makes me sad. "Baby, I know my mum wasn't happy when I proposed, and I know she didn't say very-- nice things about you... But that was almost a year ago. Things have changed."

"Harry, things may have changed, but can you seriously look me in the eyes, and tell me her mind has changed?"

"No," Harry sighs. He stands in front of me, and buries his head in between my neck and shoulder. "She doesn't even know I'm the one that left." Harry's words ring in my ears.

I pull back startled. "What?"

Harry looks wide eyed and nervous. He coughs awkwardly. "I never told my mum I was the one who left. She thinks we had a messy break up, and that I never got over you, so when I came back here, we got back together."

I blink, and frown. "So, you're saying your mom knows nothing?"

"Nope."

"You leaving and me trying to find you? My drinking? Caleb? Nothing?"

Harry once again looks nervous. He cups the side of my head in his hand, and sighs. "She knows about the drinking, and she thinks you were stalking me..."

"Oh you've got to be-- are you serious, Harry?"

"I couldn't tell her what had happened. It would've made it real for me, and I was already a mess, Presley. I couldn't-- my mum was the only one who was nice to me. Every one else was either pissed off at me, or trying to comfort Louis'."

"Oh Harry," I mumble, as I picture a broken hearted Harry crying on his moms' lap, isolated from everyone around him. It helps me realize what I already knew. "Your mom hates me, doesn't she." I don't need Harry to answer. I already know by the way he swallows, and his eyes peer down sadly at me.

"You're not her favorite person," he admits shyly. "Gemma says she won't decide until she meets you, because there are two sides to every story, and that she can't judge you based on stories."

Gemma is nice. Gemma may understand. Gemma may not attack. Maybe.

I'm stupid, and because I'm stupid, I have no choice but to give in. "You're feeding me to the lions, Harry. I hope you know that."

"I'm sure once she meets you she'll fall in love with you, Presley."

"You've already set something up, haven't you?" Reality dawns on me, and it's too late to run. Harry's plan is working in his favor. With my anger at bay, I push him back, only half affected by his hurt expression. "When?"

Harry bites his bottom lip, before mumbling, "In a few hours. We're having dinner with everyone, your parents included..."

"Ben too?'

"Yeah," and I think Harry forgot who Ben is. I think Harry forgot a lot of things, and left out specific details, and I think I've never been more angry at Harry before. I don't think I've ever wanted to hurt him this much before.

But that's not love, and I know that.

But neither is lying, because you're ashamed of your past.

"Alright," I snap, completely ready to be done with this conversation. "I'll be back soon, I'm going to fill in Ben."

"Wait-- baby, don't leave like this--"

"I really hope you know what you've done, Harry." I grab my bag, put my shoes on, and grab my jacket.

"Presley, don't leave."

I spin and look at Harry. "I'll be back, Harry, but I've got to-- I need to talk to someone."

"Me. You can talk to me." Harry begs, and this situation has turned a hard left, when it was supposed to turn right.

"You can't even talk to your own mother, Harry." I don't mean to hurt him, but I also won't use the same tactic as him, and lie. "I'll be back, okay?" I still find it necessary to reassure him, in any way I can. No matter how small.

"I love you," Harry says once I'm at the door.

I turn my head, and nod. "I know," I promise. "I know, Harry, I'll be back, okay?"

"Presley--"

"It's fine. If you need anything call m-- call Louis," because I can't guarantee I'll want to help him with his evening tonight.

I shut the door, and walk to my car. I bang on the steering wheel once. Twice. A third time. It only helps a tiny bit. Only takes a small edge off, but does nothing with the sudden fear I have.

I'm afraid, and deep down I know nothing's going to get me through tonight unharmed, and I can't lie, I know. But I also won't rat Harry out, to save myself. That's not something I'll ever consider, and it helps me remember that I forgot.

I forgot how bad the first fight hurts.

Notes

I'm tired, and people have been mean to me. People don't always love me back, and I guess I forgot that, that's normal, and that sometimes, being sensitive and thinking differently isn't all that great. And sometimes when they say you're bright, they forget that sometimes you feel dull.