Wish Upon A Star [H.S]

7

"So, Dollface," he sneers. Y/n throws him a disapproving look. She looks around to see if anyone is watching them, before she's dragging him to a more isolated part of the room.

"What are you doing here, Harry?" she harshly whispers, her eyes still scanning for any intrusive stares.

"I thought your little boyfriend made that pretty obvious, wouldn't you say?" he sarcastically replies. Her nails are digging into the skin of his wrist, but he doesn't notice it because his heart has been pounding since being pulled into this corner.

"I could honestly go without the attitude," she snarls at him. She's making that same face she used to give him years ago. It's still as adorable as ever. Her lips are all pouty, and he licks his own, just thinking about how they would feel against his after so long. Just as he's about to say something, the boyfriend is demanding her presence elsewhere. Y/n looks at him unsurely, as if trying to express what's on her mind, but the pestering calls forcibly take her from him.

***

Harry needs to see her again. That boyfriend of hers hadn't given them much time to talk before he was leading her away to meet a few of the company's investors. All throughout the night, they were stealing glances at each other and it had taken every bit of decency in him to not pull her into an empty office. He's been beating the punching bag that hangs in the middle of his bedroom in frustration every morning for the past three days. The images of her in another man's arms still overflow in his head, and his punches become more violent.

With one last blow, he's holding the bag still and leaning his head against the beaten-up fabric. He needs to speak to her. There are so many things he wants to say and ask her. Like why she hadn't responded to any of his messages or answered any of his calls. Months of being ignored had become too much for him to handle. It had taken him so long to stop beating himself up for their breakup, although he wouldn't say that it still doesn't cross his mind at least once a day.

***

Age 18:

The keys fall from his hand as soon as he enters the house. He had been too late, and now she was gone. She'd left without hearing how much he loves her because it doesn't matter how many fights they have and whatever harsh words are exchanged, she's his entire life. He doesn't even remember driving home, but here he is. Every inch of the house reminds him of her. It's as if he can hear her giggle ring through his ears.

Once he's up in his room, he loses it. He starts screaming as he pulls the sheets off the bed and flips the mattress onto the floor. Pillows and picture frames are chucked across the room and anything that gets in his way is whipped out of place. When the space around is completely torn apart, he turns to the wall and drives his fist into it over and over again. There's blood gushing out his knuckles, but he keeps ramming it against the vertical surface until punching through the wood. That's when he falls to the floor.

Anne rushes in, horrified by the catastrophe that's become of Harry's room. However, it's the sight of her son crouched down against the wall in a weeping mess that has her clutching her chest. She's by his side in an instant and tries to hold his shaking body in her arms. His uninjured hand covers his face as all the tears leak through the spaces between his fingers.

"She's gone," he cries. All Anne can do is hold her boy close and wait until he calms down. When she looks up, she sees Eric standing by the door. Harry sees him too and suddenly jumps at him. He's got the older man pinned to the wall and his bloodied hand is threatening to throw a punch.

"Harry, stop!" Anne tries her best to separate the two, but he's too strong.

All Harry can see is red. "You just couldn't let us be, could you? Couldn't just let us be happy?" his voice is strained as he tries to keep his intimidation. "I love her," he grits out. Then the tears are returning, the love of his life is now over three thousand miles away from him. "I love her," he repeats much softly. He slowly slides down until he's level with Eric's shins.