fade in, fade out [h.s.]

The Despair

February 2015

Harry never thought it was possible to feel everything and nothing all at once, but sitting in the window seat on the plane back to England, he feels just that—a freight train of emotions followed almost instantly by a crippling sort of numbness.

Niall and Piper don't say anything to him during the trip home, and Harry feels grateful for that, because how on earth was he supposed to tell them that his confession of love was thrown in his face in the worst possible way? That all of his fears on the plane ride to Newport ultimately came true?

Part of Harry knows that his two friends are aware of this, because the sudden shift in his exterior is something they've never seen before.

It isn't like the first time Nora left him in London. No, this time it's far worse, because he never imagined he would give somebody else, let alone Nora fucking Priestley, the power to shred his heart into tiny little pieces until all that's left was barely-beating flesh struggling to thump appropriately inside of his chest.

He can't believe she sent him away. After everything they've been through, everything Harry told her, she still asked him to leave and to never come back.

Part of him really wants to hate her—to blame her for causing him to pour his heart out on the front steps of her childhood home just for her to throw it back in his face. He wants to scrub every piece of her from his skin, expel the feeling of her touch from his body and scrape away his epidermis until all that's left is a fresh layer of red skin.

He wants to forget every single memory he ever shared with her—the way he remembers the exact shade of blue inside of her eyes, the way not everybody knows about the birthmark hidden just below her navel, the way one of her teeth on the bottom row of her mouth is just a bit more crooked than the rest, the way the right side of her lip always lifts first when she sends a smile in his direction.

He wants to forget every word he ever said to her, the good and the bad, because it clearly was all for nothing. It doesn't matter how many times he told her he loved her, it doesn't matter how many times he begged her not to send him away, it doesn't matter how hard his hands cupped her cheeks, forcing her to trust him.

Harry really wants to hate her. But sadly, he knows he never will.

After they've deboarded the plane and left the airport for good, Harry doesn't say anything when Niall pulls his keys from the pocket of his jacket, slipping into the driver's side door while Harry slips into the backseat, allowing Piper to sit passenger side without putting up a fight.

He tries to ignore Niall's concerned blue eyes watching him from the rearview mirror. He tries to ignore the sound of Piper nibbling on her fingernails until all that's left is a thin layer her teeth can't tear into surrounding her nail bed. He tries to ignore the sound of his pathetic heart trying its hardest to push blood throughout his body, attempting to warm him up from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes.

But it's no use. Harry's accepted the coldness infiltrating his system, the blood in his veins practically ice as he remembers that Nora didn't want him. She always felt like the sun to him, but now, in the aftermath, he feels as if he's been submerged in the Arctic Ocean, permanently frostbitten as he tries to forget what it felt like to be wrapped up in her warmth.

"Harry, please. Talk to us. What happened?" Niall asks once the car has stopped outside of Harry's townhouse in Hampstead Heath.

Harry looks up, struggling to remember a time when Niall called him by his first name instead of his usual 'Curly' or 'mate.' And when his eyes lock on his best mate's, Niall turned around completely as he looks back at Harry with sadness littering his features, Harry tries his hardest not to crumble in front of him.