Under One Roof: A Harry Styles Story

Chapter 25

Love is magical, that’s what they say. Yes, it is very, very magical.

But magic doesn’t exist.

 

You slowly came downstairs. Everyone is still asleep at 5 am. Your ride will come fifteen minutes from now. You walked to the living room, and stood at the exact spot where you were standing last night. A trove of memories bombarded your mind. The kiss, the arrival, the pain. The guilt. The love you have for the wrong person. You started to cry, but decided to laugh everything up. You faced to the left, where Harry was sleeping. You knelt down and brushed off the curls on his forehead. You touched his cheek. It obviously had dried tears. It also looked a little red, maybe from your mother’s slaps. Your tears fell uncontrollably. You reached for Harry’s hands, and squeezed it lightly. Leaving you…it hurts. I wish I don’t love you. I wish I didn’t welcome you warmly. I wish you didn’t meet mom. I wish, I wish I didn’t get over from depression, if I will just get melancholic all over again. You kissed his forehead and went to the kitchen to stick a note on the fridge. You shuffled through the papers in your purse and saw a small envelope. I didn’t remember writing this… ‘To Hazza’, it read on the back. It was a letter you wrote probably late at night. You looked over to Harry, then to the letter. You took a deep breath and walked over to him. You slip the envelope to his palms. You played with his curls for the last time, an stood up as you heard a car pull over in front of your house.

“It was very unexpected for you to call us at this time of day.”, the driver of the SUV said as you went inside. “How many suitcases you have?”, he added. “I have a luggage, a box, an a backpack.”, you replied. He opened the door and hand you the backpack and box. “This won’t fit at the back.”, he said. “You nodded and stared at all the cute little things Harry wrote on the box. Don’t die of obesity, don’t talk to boys, I want you to remember that you’re not fat, you’re perfect to me. One even said ‘I love you’ with hearts drawn all over. You moved it closer beside you and hugged it, pretending it was him. You looked at the top and a post-it was stuck. You slowly unstuck it and cried.

‘I’ll see you in eight years.’, it read.

You looked over the window where the neighborhood you lived in for eighteen years were flashing away swiftly in your eyes. The streets where you used to play in, the first school you attended. The road you and Harry walked on every day, the bus stop that he carried you for, the park where you had an ice cream fight, the river you first laid your lips in his.

The airport was getting nearer and nearer, until the SUV stopped. You gathered all your stuff and took a quiet seat on the waiting area. You stared at your ticket. New York, written in huge black letters. 814HARLB78 seat B, you read the ticket code. ‘Har…’, you whispered softly. You tried to laugh but your tears got the best of you. You decided o get a cup of coffee. You walked to the vending machine and looked to the floor. You looked up…and got the surprise of your life.