Capturing Time [H.S.]

Chapter 19

Month 3

Harry-

I looked around me at the new shop I had helped to create.

In the center of London.

Lyrical Ink.

It was the official sister shop of Poetic Ink.

Housing some of the best artists that Britian had to offer. Including my sister.

I should be damn fucking proud of myself.

But none of it means anything. Not without her.

"You're leaving aren't you?" Gemma sighs, bumping me with her shoulder.

I let out a loud sigh. My hands instinctively run through my hair. Pushing it back away from my forehead. "I fucked up Gem. I need to try and at least fix it."

"You love her."

I turn to look at my sister. "More than I ever thought I would love another person."

Gemma stares into my eyes. She must see something in mine because she nods. "Go get your girl back."

---

I couldn't leave immediately. It took two weeks to get everything situated. When I stepped off the plane at LAX I was half expecting her to be there. To run into my arms and cover my face with kisses. But she wasn't.

Niall was the one who was standing with a sign at the bottom of the escalator.

"Welcome home from prison Harry."

Little shit.

It wasn't until I asked him to take me to her apartment that he told me she wasn't even in California anymore.

I made him take me by anyway.

When I unlocked the door with the key kept in the fake rock in one of the plants on the small porch, my heart plummeted to my stomach.

Sasha's things were strewn all around the apartment. But there was no sign of Willow.

I knew she was gone when I walked into her studio to find all of her equipment gone.

I'd waited to long.

She wasn't here.

She'd left.

I'd come back, and she'd gone.

----

Month 6

Being back without her here was a new kind of torture.

It was getting harder and harder to pretend to be happy.

Every time the bell above the shop chimed I hoped it was her. Only to look up and be disappointed that it wasn't.

I knew she was doing well. I'm not ashamed to admit that I stalked her Instagram and her other social media.

She was supposed to be finishing up a tour, and coming back home.

I had to get my information from my friends like a leach. Listening in on conversations when they spoke about her.

She was supposed to be coming home in three days.

Three days and I could fix this.

"She's not coming home." Zayn informed me.

My eyes closed as his words hit me like a Mac truck. Bowling me over.

"The band she's been photographing for, they've asked her to do the photography for their unpcoming album."

Shit. That's going to be huge for her.

I want to be happy for her. I am happy for her. But, I also can't help but to feel like she is avoiding coming home.

I can't help but feel like maybe if I were still in England she would come back.

"Have you talked to her?" Zayn leans against the railing so he can study my face.

I shake my head no.

"Why not man?"

That's a good question. It's one I wish I had the answer to. Maybe I haven't reached out to her because I feel like a fucking wanker. I broke up with her for my dream. Just to realize that my dream meant fuck all without her. Came crawling back with my tail between my legs, only to find her gone.

"You love her."

I turn to look at him. My face struggles to remain impassive. "Of course I fucking love her."

"Maybe if you told her..." He trails off.

She knew. She knows. Doesn't she? She has to fucking know. How could she not. I told her. Didn't I?

Now that I think about it I can't ever remember actually telling her the words. That I loved her.

I told her I was crazy about her. I told her she was everything.

Didn't I show her?

She was my world.

It was pretty fucking obvious from the moment I saw her drop that beer bottle and watched as it erupted all over her. It was obvious what she meant to me.

It's why Colson never left us alone.

It's why Charlie pulled me aside and told me not to break his little girls heart.

It's why Niall, Zayn, Liam, and Louis used to fuck with me so much.

Even her friends did it. Touching her. Flirting with her. Kissing on her.

Everyone was just fucking waiting for me to snap.

It's why I spent 6 months painting a mural for her.

It's why images of her decorate my body.

The rose on my forearm for her middle name. The mermaid, because the little mermaid was her comfort movie. The anotomic heart for the night I stayed up with her until four in the morning studying for her anatomy final. It was the first night she ever fell asleep in my lap.

The butterfly on my chest. I got that one after we went to the butterfly museum and she cried because they were so fragile and beautiful, and their lives were so fleeting.

I'd decorated my body with everything that reminded me of her.

How could she ever doubt what she meant to me?

Did she need the words?

The turmoil I feel spills out onto my cheeks. Coating my skin. Making me feel pathetic and weak.

Zayn wraps his arms around my shoulders and holds me while I cry over a woman who has consumed my soul, only to question how I feel about her.

"Fuck." The word escapes my lips before I can hold it back. "I feel so fucking stupid, man. She was the best thing that ever happened to me and I let her slip away."

Zayn presses his lips to my forehead. "Right person, wrong time." He says softly.

I don't understand what he means. I won't get it for a long time.