HYSTERIA

THIRTY NINE - LOVE BITES

LOVE BITES - DEF LEPPARD

"If you've got love in your sights, watch out, love bites."

HARRY STYLES

Those three words are out of my mouth before I can even think about stopping it.

"I'm sorry, what?" She chuckles, her chest rising and falling visibly as she processes my words.

A rush of panic floods through me. I should've known it was too much. The feeling has been so overwhelming, driving me insane, but now I see the uncertainty in her eyes... and it's too late; the weight of what I said lingers in the air, and I can see the shift in her expression.

"Y-y-you can't Harry, you can't feel that way about me!" She suddenly shouts, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "You don't mean it," She continues. "I'm not worth it!"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I recoil, stunned. "Ariel—"

"Just stop!" She yells, tears welling in her eyes. "Why di— how could you?" She cries.

The warmth of the moment evaporates, leaving behind a chill that settles deep in my chest. I feel exposed, vulnerable, and foolish for saying something I thought could— for something that could take us somewhere. "I didn't mean to upset you," I say softly, my heart racing as I search for the right words. "I just—"

"No. I can't do this, I can't fucking do this Harry, just go," she snaps, her voice cutting through the air and right through my chest.

The finality in her words feels like a door slamming shut, and I nod, my chest heavy with regret, confusion, and anger. As I rise to leave, I glance back at her, wondering if there's a way I can take it all back, to rewind back to last night when things were fucking perfect.

"I mean it, Ariel. This isn't some casual fling for me, not anymore. You're worth it, baby. Don't you get that?"

"Please, just stop," she pleads, wiping her tears. "I need time. I can't do this right now."

Stepping out into the cool, crisp night, my heart aches with the thought of what could've been.

☆ ☆ ☆

ARIEL CALLAWAY

After Harry leaves, I stand in shock for a moment, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in my ears. My heart races, a chaotic mix of anger and hurt swirling inside me. I can't believe he said that, what the actual fuck is happening?

I feel exposed, like I've been stripped bare in front of him, and the weight of my emotions crashes over me.

I lock the door, the finality of the click resonating through the silence. My hands tremble, and I can feel the tears threatening to spill. I can't do this, I can't fucking do this, I need to escape.

I stumble to my liquor cabinet, desperation guiding my hands. I don't care what I grab; I just want to numb this feeling. I find a bottle of whiskey and pour a generous amount into a glass, then reach for whatever else I can find—vodka, rum, anything within reach. My vision blurs as I down the first drink, the burn sliding down my throat, momentarily easing the chaos in my mind.

"I'm not fucking worth it," I mumble, taking a heavy sip, "No feelings... why—how?"

The room spins as I keep pouring, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I can't believe he thought he could feel that way about me. I'm not worth it. Fuck, after everything he witnessed me go through? I take another swig, not caring about the mix or how it tastes. The alcohol hits me faster than I expect, fogging my mind and dulling the sharp edges of reality.