harry hasn't slept nor ate right since you been gone. his mind was constantly filled by thoughts and memories of you. all he wanted was you.
of course, the paparazzi found out about your break up. hell, you probably can tell by harry's red teary eyes and dark circles. his face seem dull and his glow was gone. of course, they had to find out by now.
but he hated it. he hated how easy it was to tell how broken he was. he hated how whenever they would say your name, he flinches. it pains him.
he's been good though with drowning out what they say. it's not like they need to know everything anyways. the breakup was mutual. well— mutual enough where harry understood why you wanted to end things.
you were tired. emotionally and mentally tired. you couldn't keep up with this celebrity lifestyle with harry. you thought you could. it seemed easy, but it just keep getting worse with all the hate and death threats. and of course, harry understands. he will always understand. but that didn't stop him having that gut feeling that all of it was his fault. even though you told him it was a personal problem. harry just knew deep down— it was his fault.
"good for you leaving that cheating whore harry!"
harry always ignored the paps when they say just absurd things because he knew they just wanted an reaction. but this one hit too close.
he turned around to the man who said it and leaned closer, "i don't bloody know what the fuck you're talking about. but don't you ever talk about my lady like that again. you fucking twat."
harry walked away with his fists balled up and anger spreading all throughout his body.
that was the type of shit why y/n isn't in his life anymore. so yes he fucking understands.
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