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Chapter 161

Distance, timing, breakdown, fighting
Silence, the train runs off its track
Kiss me, try to fix it
Could you just try to listen?
Hang up, give up and for the life of us
We can't get back...
What we had
A beautiful, magic love there
What a sad
Beautiful, tragic love affair

— Taylor Swift, Sad Beautiful Tragic (Taylor's Version)

. . . .

Harris sits beside me on the couch with a cup of coffee in his hand. He came over about twenty minutes ago, bringing me coffee. He said he thought it would perk me up a little bit, but the caffeine had little effect. I'm still as lonely and unhappy as ever.

It's been two days since Harry's talk with his family when I eavesdropped in on their conversation, and Harry still hasn't talked to me. Two more days of overthinking and each second breaks my heart just a little bit more. I really thought he'd come around, if not that night, then the morning after, but he still ignored me the rest of the day.

This has been the worst week of my entire life, without hesitation. I have never felt so unwanted and ashamed in my life.

My own father still hasn't called to talk to me, either. Bonnie's called several times to ask how I'm feeling—emotionally and physically, but I feel weak. I'm exhausted, my brain is scrambled, and my chest hurts. I'm completely burnt out. Anything that used to interest me is now bland and dull, eliciting no reaction from me whatsoever.

Harris has seen how drastically this fight with Harry has ruined me. I'm not myself anymore. My sarcastic charm is lessened, and every other aspect of my personality is tarnished. Harry completes me, and without him, I'm so entirely lost.

"You need to eat something," Harris suggests quietly.

"I'm not hungry," I mumble, my voice even lower.

"I'm not going to let you starve—eat."

He leans forward and picks up the sandwich he brought along with him. I hold it in my hands, the warmth tickling from my hands and up through my forearms. I take a small bite to appease him, but it's not good enough. He urges another bite, then another, and another until the sandwich is gone. I fold the wrapper and set it aside. Harris changes his seating position on the couch and turns to look at me.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks.

I shake my head, "No."

"It isn't healthy for you to keep everything bottled up like this. I care about you so much, but this isn't you. You're struggling with this, and all I want to do is help you."

"I won't feel better."

"You can't be so pessimistic."

"Well, I'm not feeling very optimistic. The one person that I want to talk to doesn't want anything to do with me," I say, my tone is drab and there's little emotion to my voice. "Sorry, I didn't mean to exclude you. I really do appreciate you right now."

"I understand."

"Am I an idiot?" I ask him, shyly. "I've been so desperate at trying to fix our relationship, that I've been allowing him to treat me like shit for the past week. He's not usually like this, and I know he's only angry because of everything that happened, but I feel like every single ounce of fault is on me, and he's completely innocent. Is that stupid?"

"I don't think you're an idiot," he begins. "Or stupid. You love him and you value your relationship. You just want to make it work and not upset him further. You're tiptoeing around him to avoid further confrontation and frustration. However, I do think that you need to stick up for yourself rather than passively accepting his behavior. It's not right with the way he's just blowing you off like your side doesn't matter."