Darling (Harry Styles)

chap 12

ANNABELLE WILCOX
Louis' House

    The cold breeze hit my face lightly as I sat on the porch outside, awoken from a sleep I didn't even remember falling into by yet another nightmare. Again and again, treacherous boulders stood in the way of my road to a brighter and better future and I didn't know how to move them.

I wasn't strong enough to move them.

My dark hair was pulled up and out of my face into a high ponytail, Harry's sweatshirt he'd given me so long ago sat on my shoulders. It didn't feel right to wear it, but at the same time, that night brought me some comfort.

He was a taunting man and he showed it to me that night, but with the little things he noticed about me and kept in mind that night as well, it reminded me that some people do care.

My mother always taught me that being known is being loved.

"How come Derek never says he loves us?" I questioned my mother in the passenger seat of her car, the early morning sun shining brightly onto the silver Sedan after she picked me up from Beatrice's.

My family was big on 'I love you's'. I ended every call with one. Every time I left the house. Every night before I went to bed. Every morning before school. Everything ended with an 'I love you'. But, Derek had never said it.

She shrugged, turning onto our road. "There's a lot of reasons for that—some people just don't show love the same way we do. And that's okay because being known is being loved and Derek knows us."

I placed down my phone, giving her my full attention as she tapped her fingers to the soft music playing. "What does that mean?"

"Being known is being loved." She repeated before laughing softly, "I forgot—I'm older and smarter than you are. Maybe I should leave it as one of the few things that you don't know."

My mouth dropped open and she looked over, laughing louder, "Alright, alright.. maybe for that cute face of yours I'll give it up."

I looked away in embarrassment as she pulled the car into the driveway, parking but not opening her door just yet as she spoke. I could see my father in the window of the living room, waiting for us with a bright smile on his face and an apron around his neck.

"Being known is being loved just means that someone loves you when they pick out your favorite cereal and get it for you just because it's your favorite. Or someone buys you food just because they know you would want it. Derek does that for us, so we know he loves us even when he doesn't say it."

A single tear runs down my cheek at the memory. I would do anything to spend my birthday with them—it seems that growing older happens so quickly. I want to go back to how I was when I was with them. God, I miss them so much.

And I miss Derek. Seeing all the cold and hardened men at Louis' on Friday nights really reminds me of him—he had the exact same character traits to them for everyone else. But he was so sweet to me, he fought with our parents a decent amount but I know they loved each other too.

When I was dumped for the first time, I sobbed for days inside my bed. I was a dramatic mess with a broken heart. Derek spent every second in there on a sleeping bag on the floor, he forced me to get up and would lock me in the bathroom while he waited outside until I showered. He brought up meals my father made for me while my mother brought in flowers upon flowers from a garden I liked.