Muse [h.s.]

32. falling

Harry's POV
a year ago

"I'm in my bed, and you're not here," I sing out quietly, my fingers gracing the keys of the piano. "And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands."

My hands are shaky, my fingers barely pressing the keys to produce sound with the vulnerability of the lyrics that just left my mouth. I haven't bared my soul like this in a song, not in a while, but it's true — I'm no saint.

I fucked up, I fucked up so badly by doing the worst thing I could have ever done to the greatest light of my life. There's no justifying this, there's no fixing this, despite how badly I wish I could.

There's no one at blame here other than me, nothing other than my own wrongdoings.

There's no else but me right now, sitting alone in this empty house in California, sitting in front of this grand piano, but for once, sitting here doesn't bring me joy.

She brings me joy.

She was the only one who ever brought me such joy.

She doesn't want me anymore, and of course she wouldn't; she shouldn't. I disappointed her in the harshest way and did her so wrong.

She is the epitome of light itself, but I dimmed her radiance.

My mind is chaotic and filled with mayhem, but what I do know is that it's time I admit my wrongs and correct my mistakes and actions.

I continue to move my fingers along the keys of the piano, listening to the same melody that's been playing in my mind all day. "What am I now?"

I don't think I know who I am anymore; Aurelia said that herself that night in that hotel room in London — I'm looking at you and I don't even recognize you.

I glance at my reflection in the tall glass window in front of me and I almost feel it, too; I don't think I recognize myself, either.

"What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again..." I sing out quietly, hearing my voice grow thick with the words.

I've always been a person who's been so sure of himself, so sure of who I am, especially in these recent years. These past few months since Aurelia and I's initial breakup, I haven't even been able to look at myself in the mirror — a contrast to who I was before, because I don't know the stranger that's looking back at me.

Who am I, if I'm so easily capable of breaking the woman who brings the life out from within me?

I've always been sure of myself, but now, I don't know who I've become. What if I grow into someone who can't even stand their own self?

It already feels that way. I'm falling off of my own identity, my conscious, my beliefs and thoughts and ideas, I'm falling from them all.

"You said you cared, and you missed me too. And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you," I continue to sing out, a bit louder than before and I begin to screw my eyes shut as my fingers grow less timid and familiarize themselves with the piano keys.

I was New York only a few weeks ago for the gala, I had no idea that Aurelia would be there. I had no intentions of going to seek her out off of my own, but again, it seems like Fate has a particularly liking for messing around with the lives of the two of us.

And I had to fuck that up, too.

What is it about me, why is that I seem to ruin everything I touch?