Coming Home

H.P.O.V

"It's packed," Jasmine refuses to release my hand. She also refuses to kiss me, because her lipstick will get ruined. "Babe I think you're over dressed." I mutter gently. This gathering was meant to be causal.

Louis said it was just a small celebration. Which is why I'm just wearing a T-shirt and jeans.

"I'm not overdressed. These people are underdressed. Including you," I've learned to accept these types of comments from her. Learned to let them brush off my shoulders. "I thought I told you not to wear anything that would clash."

"I thought white went with everything," in my head I didn't see a problem with what I was wearing. I thought it was appropriate for a birthday celebration. "Babe, it's just a small gathering."

"Whatever," Jasmine says with an annoyed tone.

"You made it!" Louis smiles and moves aside not phased by Jasmine's lack of response. "Harry come," Louis motions. After making sure Jasmine was okay, and by okay I mean not glaring at anyone I follow Louis' lead and walk into the kitchen where it's a tiny bit more quiet. "I gave Presley the same warning last night and I feel I owe you the same courtesy, not that you deserve it." Louis mumbles the last part under his breath.

"What is it?" I'm trying to remain calm. I'm trying not to show Louis the way my heart races every time I hear Presley's name.

"It took a bit of convincing and Ben's encouragement, but Presley will be here shortly. They're bringing Ben's brother."

"And you felt the need to tell me because..."

"Because I'm asking you to keep your b-"

"Watch it." I interject.

"Fiancé," Louis says with an eye roll. "Away from Presley, okay? Don't be a dick and don't make it awkward. It's still El's birthday and I want it to be happy for her."

"Then you shouldn't have invited them," because every time Presley is anywhere near me, I feel stupid and foolish. But worst of all I feel guilty and angry that she's around Ben. That she treats Ben the way she used to treat me. "If anything happens it'll be your fault."

"I don't want to do this right now Harry," Louis says tiredly. "I'm not going to try and make you see what you're doing. I just hope when you realize how stupid and cruel you've been it's not too late, and everything isn't so fucked."

The kitchen door opens and a very giggly Eleanor leans her head in. "Babe, they're here!" Louis grins and takes her offered hand, leaving me behind with a head full of doubt.

I don't know when my life became became so complicated, where I enjoyed being away from my friends more than I did participating with them. I want to know how Louis started making sense all of a sudden and when I stopped.

"There you are," Jasmine smiles with her red lips. "Babe you left me out there with all the frumpy gits." I love Jasmine. Of course I do. I proposed. I must love her.

"I'm sorry," and when Jasmine pulls back as I lean in, I try and not to frown. Because not everyone is the same. Presley is someone completely different from Jasmine.

Walking out wasn't the best decision I decide. Not when Presley is smiling at a man I've never seen before. A well built-- tall-- and attractive man, who's looking down at her as if she single handily discovered the moon and the stars.

And when I realize I used to (or still do...maybe) look at Presley like that, it feels like someone plunged a dagger in my chest and stepped on it until they were sure it'd never come out again.
Jasmine isn't like Presley.

Not even close.

Other times it's worse and some times I try not to notice.

****
"Stop glaring! It's embarrassing!" Jasmine hisses between her teeth.

"I'm not glaring! I'm not even staring!" Even if it's hard to look away when Presley walked in with a shirt that isn't long enough and a short little skirt. And then you have the fact that her fucking navel is pierced!
It's fucking pierced, and I feel light headed.

"Wait here," Jasmine growls.

I don't react fast enough. I don't think my mind processes what's happening until Jasmine is standing face to face with Presley.

"Harry!" Louis calls out.

It's not urgent enough to arouse suspicion from the others around, but it's loud enough for me to know I'm in deep shit with Louis.

"You think I'm just going to let you whore around my fiancé? I know what you're doing! I've been around sluts like you long eno-"

"Excuse us," I grasp Jasmine's arm hard enough to guide her away from an amused Presley, an upset Eleanor and Ben, and a livid Louis and I'm assuming Jesse. "The fuck are you doing?"

"You've been like this since she came into our lives! It's embarrassing! You're mine!" Jasmine rants, finger pressed against my chest. She's heaving and her eyes look murderous.

"Like what?" In my opinion I've handled this situation very well.

"Stupid. Like you forget we're engaged!"

"I never forget I'm engaged!" Not when she's constantly reminding me and everyone around us. "You can't walk up to people and start berating them when they've done nothing. You need to apologize."

"Apologize?" Jasmine repeats with raised eyebrows and an astonished look. "Fuck you we're going home." She goes to grip my wrist only missing when I pull away quickly.

"I just got here. You however are free to go."

Jasmine gapes as if I've just insulted her mum. "You'll regret this," and I already am.

She spins on her heel, causing a few people around us to look and watch amused. She passes Presley and her small circle, glaring and no doubt mouthing a few curse words.

I know I shouldn't have let Jasmine walk away like this. I know I should have stopped her, maybe even gone after her. But it all seems so much easier to let her leave and go home, where she can't insult Presley (not because I care, because I don't) or upset Louis enough to spill my secrets.

Not when I'm already at risk, with Presley being so close and being so good at ignoring me and flaunting herself with an unknown man who is clearly interested.

Who was someone she used to be associated with. And maybe she still is. Maybe they're on and off. And if Presley felt anything close to what I'm feeling seeing her with someone different, then I should be run over a hundred times.

"I can-" Presley's voice sounds sweet, even from behind. Even with the loud music playing. "I can go talk with her? I, um, I don't know why she exploded but I can try and get her to come back?"

"What?" I turn and frown. It's so confusing right now. Presley offering to go and make things okay with Jasmine. Not that, that's possible, but it reminds me of the old Presley. The one who didn't have her navel pierced (and fuck it's pierced and sparkly) the one who spent a year trying to find me.

The same one who must hate me. Who's probably over me because she's with another man.

"You're navel-- it's pierced," and I want to bury myself alive, because out of everything I could have said, I said that. Okay. "I-I wow, okay, I mean, what?"

"At least you're not walking out," she mumbles. And she must be referring to yesterday. But after her statement my mind blanked and all I could do was walk away before I vomited everything I've wanted to say. "I don't want to cause problems for you both so if you don't want me to speak with her, then I'll let you be. Have fun-"

Just as she's turning I grasp her arm as she stops and looks back confused. "Your navel is pierced." And here I go again with things that aren't my business.

"Yes," she says slowly, brushing my hold away and placing her hand over the small jewel.

"You wouldn't get a matching tattoo with me but you'll get your navel pierced?"

"It's easier than covering up a tattoo," Presley squeaks, confused as to why I'm upset. I don't know why I'm upset. I just am. "Jesse said it was more practic-"

"Come." I interrupt before she can finish. I take hold of her wrist, leading her to Louis' spare room, completely ignoring everyone's curious glances and Jesse's attempt to stop us.

I'll be thanking Louis for that later... Or after he finishes yelling at me for Jasmine's outburst.

I don't want to growl, though the want to isn't weak. And I don't want to walk out and pummel Jesse's face with my fist. Because all I see, all I can see is him holding her hand as the needle penetrates her skin. I can see the way she must have teared up and him kissing her tears away. I can see him laying her down and kissing it once it's healed.

No. Fuck no.

Once the door is shut and locked, I turn and face Presley. She's looking back, eyes wide and confused. I don't know what I'm doing. All I know is that I'm on my knees suddenly, both hands holding her waist, as I eye the jewel. It's simple. A small metallic ball connecting her skin and the rest. A light pink gem hanging and sparkling, taunting me and it's-- fuck, I don't know if there are words. I just know it's fucking gorgeous.

I'm not the least bit sorry when I press my lips against it. Not ashamed when my tongue licks around it and my lips press gentle kisses against her skin.

I'd stop if she'd ask. I'd pull away, but the way she gasps and her fingers are gripping my hair, I don't think I want to stop.

Because I don't.

Not when she's mewling and whimpering.

Pride swells in my chest and I want to taste her mouth. I want to taste everything I've missed about her.
"H-Harry, you should-- you s-should stop." And how can I, when she's here and her navel is pierced. "Harry n-no."

"Harry yes." I say as I place a final kiss against her skin and stand. My hands haven't left her waist and my eyes won't stop picturing her piercing against my tongue. "Fuck this shirt, fuck your short little skirt. I just-- it's fucking pierced." And it's beautiful and I want to mark it with my teeth. I want to create a trail of teeth marks starting from her neck and stoping right above her piercing. I want to tattoo my name on her with my teeth. I want Jesse to know I left those. I want the fucking world to know I left those marks. "Let me mark you."

It's a desperate plea. I'm begging and at this very moment, I don't give a single fuck. Not that I'm engaged, not that this is Louis' spare room. Not that Presley and I need and should have a long and overdue conversation.

And especially not the fact that Presley may be with Jesse.

“This is a really fucking terrible idea, isn’t it?” She says finally.

“Really, really terrible,” I agree quietly, “for so many reasons.”

She drops a kiss on my lips then, soft and deliberate. “Is it bad that I can’t remember any of them?”

“Probably?” I say, but I'm not really sure I can either. Somewhere underneath, I think it’s always been this way with us .

It’s Me who kisses her this time, and it’s more desperate and more frantic and needy; I give it everything because I think if I stop she might break and I don't really know what I'd do if that happened. I think I loose track of the time passing – oblivious to everything that’s not Presley's lips and tongue and hands – and when Presley abruptly pulls away, breathing deeply and resting her head on my shoulder, I make a sort of horribly needy, broken sound.

"I can't do this Harry," she mumbles. Her face is resting against my shoulder and all I want to do is tilt her head and connect our lips. "Not with you. Not anymore."

She picks her head up and walks away and out of the room. Not a single word was spoken and I think my heart may have just cracked in two.

I don't know what I did or why I did this.

I don't know why I suddenly wish Presley was the one wearing my ring. I don't know when I stopped making sense.

I just know that I don't anymore.

Notes

Yass. 2k15 is my bitch. What!!!!