Lonely and forgotten he never thought I'd look his way.

I have a strange thing for sad songs. They are everything to me. They made all the sense in the world to me. They might have been depressing but because of the chemicals in my head so was I.

Sad songs were comfort to me. I listened to so many and I must have written hundreds. I never wrote them for me, though. They were for everyone who surrounded me.

When Caleb, oh my brother, when he broke up with Amanda (the 'love' of his twenty year old life, until they ran out of things to say to each other) I wrote six sad songs for him. When my parents would argue (mostly about small things...except when it was about me, then they fought like they had no boundaries) I wrote at least three "songs" for each argument.

Whenever any of my old friends, my family that I hardly see, and the people I walked by everyday, that I sat around with, whenever their features were sad, when they weren't smiling, when they hurt me, I wrote sad songs. They weren't good, fuck, I don't even think they were legible. They were more like rushed poems with sad words. The kind of words people who are in their happiest glow seem to always get.

When I met Harry I seemed to have forgotten about my sad songs. I forgot about them. Harry didn't deserve to have any sad songs. Even when he was mean to me, when we fought like he hated me, even after he left. I never wrote him a sad "song".

How do you write a sad song for your person?... You don't.

The last sad song I wrote I was eighteen and Caleb had just died. My self harm were those sad songs and because Harry had left I remembered my thing for sad songs. I wrote them for Caleb every day. For my parents who didn't have a child besides me. For Ben who was lonely and doing his best not to hate me.

I haven't written a sad song since then... But this is the first time I am seeing Harry. Actually seeing Harry. Not his picture online or on a tabloid. He is here and the want to write a sad song for him takes me by surprise. It leaves me breathless.

Seeing him, here, standing with Ben was the first line. The first words that hold you down with a gentle, sad force.

He was perfect. He was once my dream. Now he's in a suit with a loose thin scarf around his neck. He was still dressing like only he could. He was still my fashion rebel. He had a bit of fuzz on his jaw and multiple rings, including his wedding ring. I try my best not to look at it. I don't trust myself yet.
Harry looked like the man you write sad songs about and If I had paper I would be.

He looked different than I remember but I think that's due to the time that I've been away. Louis tells me he's been going to therapy every Tuesday. He doesn't ask how it's going but he knows Harry never misses a session.

And good. He deserves to be okay. To finally be okay.

I knew I couldn't avoid his curious eyes forever so I breathed out a small greeting, only to almost die when Harry rasped out a speedy, 'I love you.' My eyes widened, Louis and Ben were as shocked as I was.

His 'I love you' was the middle part of the sad song that makes your eyes wet with salty water and quiet pain. The kind of quiet hurt that stings and you don't know how to fix it yet.

Harry's cheeks flamed red. He is emerald gaze dropped down to his feet embarrassed and he was trying to look everywhere but at me and I was grateful. I wasn't ready for his smile yet. I don't even know if being in the same room with him was okay but I was here and I had to suck it up.

I wasn't twenty-two and desperate anymore. I wasn't bruised anymore. I was just bent and sore. I am recovering. I had to suck it up today. I had to.

The ceremony started and I looked at a concerned Louis. I smiled my best smile and looked at the book that was being read from. However, I wasn't reading along. No, instead I was writing a sad song for Harry. I would write one about Ben and everyone else here later but right now I was writing one for Harry.

About how I fell in love so easily. How I wasn't trying, I wasn't even looking. I was a stupid kid. I didn't even know how to like myself and I still fell in love. How I was seventeen when I met him. I was quiet. The loner almost. I had three acquaintances and my only friends were my brother and my dad. How it doesn't make sense for us anymore. How we don't fit.

I don't know how long I was writing the "song" in my head because what feels like only minuets, the ceremony is over and Louis and Ben are walking down happily as people cheer for them. They were so happy. Everyone was enamored with the couple so much that no one noticed Harry and I not moving with them.

I was too lost with my imaginary song and Harry-- I don't know. Two years have passed and I don't think I have a right to think I know him anymore.

"Presley," Harry says softly.

I look around rapidly as I hear Harry say my name. It had been so long since I heard him say my name. This was the part of the sad song where you feel the most familiar. Where you remember what home used to be like.

I look at Harry and see his hand stretched out for me to take.

"The best man has to walk the man of honor down the aisle." He mumble with pink cheeks.
He looks so nervous, so...frightened. He looks they way people feel when the sad song is ending. Lost. It pulls at my tattered heart strings unfairly.

So I gulp and laugh to myself at how ridiculous our titles were. "Okay," I murmur and repeat it in my head until it clicks. I place my hand in his shaky one and hold it softly in my own.

I breathe out all of the emotions I can't name and walk down the aisle that seems to have gotten longer with Harry. I ignore all of the eyes that are looking at us because I know they'll belong to people who will ask me questions I don't have answers to.

I keep my eyes forward and walk down.

When we finally make it down the aisle it takes me a few seconds to let go. To forget what his hand feels like in mine. I force myself to let go, to look at him and smile. It takes too much for it to be healthy for me to walk away from him.

And it feels like every sad song I've ever written.

Unfair and uncomplete.

Notes

They are such fucking losers.