Bad Friend

10- Things Change

this is reeeeally long, so i apologize in advance. enjoy! :)

H.

"G?" I asked, knocking on her bedroom door. I hadn't seen her in a while, more than a while, but she had never been the type to keep her door closed; or locked, for that matter.

Coming to her bedroom door wasn't something I wanted to do, but the only way in and out of the apartment that I knew of was through the tattoo shop, and I didn't have a key. Actually, that was sort of a lie. I wanted nothing more than to be in her room with her, waking up together with her in my arms and kissing her bare shoulders and neck until she stirred from sleep too. It was all I'd dreamed about for the last two years. Dreaming of Gwen was something that both tortured and brought me peace while we spent time apart and I spent my last year with One Direction.

I wanted to call her when I found out Zayn was leaving, and again when we decided we were going on hiatus, but I didn't, not thinking enough time had passed and then worrying that too much time had come between us. That, and I was still angry with her. The night I left her, we argued. She kept going on and on about how I wasn't ready to be in a relationship, that my feelings for her weren't real feelings and I was just in love with the idea of her, whatever the hell that meant.

It wasn't true, I wanted to shout at her. I was in love with her—it had taken me a long time to stop denying and finally accept it, but I'd eventually come to terms with my feelings—and if the way my heart stopped at the sight of her last night was any indication, I was still in love with her. I don't know why Gwen was so adamant about her point of view, but she was, and I could tell it was clear I wasn't about to change her mind that night. So I left as per her request, and I hadn't spoken to her since.

I wasn't originally going to come see her. My manager had offered to put me up for a couple weeks until we figured out my next move. Whether that was finishing up writing in London or somewhere else I wasn't sure.

I made the split-second decision to stay with Gwen, or make her let me stay with her, when I found out about her dad. It was a coincidence that I found out about the passing of Gwen's father. I was in St. Barth's for New Year's when I ran into her roommate, or former roommate, Keira. Her eyes brightened when she saw me at a restaurant we both happened to be at, and I could feel her breath hitch when I came over to her table and gave her a hug.

We sat and talked for a few minutes while the people I was traveling with were preoccupied with something else. When I tried my best to casually ask about Gwen, that excited look Keira had in her eye dimmed slightly, her mouth parting in surprise.

"You didn't hear?" she'd asked.

At first I thought something had happened to Gwen, but Keira quickly reassured me that G was fine, telling me it was her father, not her. "Well, physiologically," she amended. "She stayed with my mom and me about a week after the funeral, but she left a few days later. Said she didn't want to impose on us anymore."

"But?" I asked her, knowing that there was more. With G, there was always more.

"But," Keira said with a wry grin. I wasn't sure how I felt about that smile; it made me feel like I was a book she had no trouble reading. "It was probably because I kept telling her to see a therapist and it freaked her out. You know how she is."

I hummed, but it hurt to know that I really didn't know Gwen, not as much as Keira did, at least. I'd known her for years, but we never spent a ton of time together, not to mention our own little two year hiatus. The last night we saw each other I tried and tried to convince her that I loved her, but what she said to me in response reared its ugly head when I spoke to Keira. Love me? You hardly even know me.