Forgotten {Harry Styles}

Chapter Seven

Heather's POV

I'm sorry, okay?

Did I in any way, shape or form say I was forgiving him?

I didn't think so.

All of us were down in the basement with air matresses and couches spread out. And by all of us I mean Harry too. But what weirded me out the most was the way the boys reacted to seeing him here. Especially Zayn.

When the boys (including Beth; she's a bit of a tomboy) came up looking for their popcorn and saw me and Harry coming down the stairs instead, their faces kind of dropped. But when Harry caught sight of them they put a smile back on.

But Zayn didn't. He looked sad. Maybe angry at the most. So before we all called for a sleepover, I pulled him outside to the front porch.

-

I hugged the fleece blanket tighter to my skin as the cold late-fall air swirled around me. We stood in silence for a few moments, just looking out into the cold night. There was nothing to look at, really.

"What's wrong, Zayn?" I asked him, looking up at him to find a cigarette being lit in between his tanned fingers. "You don't look pleased about Harry's presence."

"Because I'm not." He said, breathing in the toxic fumes and exhaling seconds later. "I don't like what he did to you. He shouldn't have done that and acted like such an arse!"

"I know what he did was extremely stupid, and idiotic-"

"But you're forgiving him for it! Forgiving him for two years of crap he put you through!" He said, stomping on the cigarette. "I don't want you forgiving him for forgetting about you. I don't want you hurt when we have to leave again for tour."

"Tour," I said, thoughts processing in my mind. "That's... cool."

"Yeah."

I shuffled my feet awkwardly. "I promised myself, I promised Beth, I promise you. I don't want to forgive him."

"I know he's one of my best-friends; he probably always will be, but knowing that that was your title, it makes me want to give it back to you. I remember at the XFactor, he would talk about a girl he called Feather, and how he missed her so much and wanted to see her so badly. He never talked about her again. He rejected women. He didn't really flirt as much as the media claimed him to. Sometimes, he would talk to Lou for hours and come out looking sad, and we would all wonder, "Why?" We never figured it out. Lou is the only one who really knows." He explained, as tears started brimming my eyes.

Did he really forget?

"I'm not," I sneezed, interrupting my sentence. "I'm not going to forgive him."

"I don't think things will ever be the same between you two. I just don't want there to always be awkward silence because we can't talk without bringing up a bad memory. It's going to be hard on us as well." He said as we started to head back inside.

Before we got in, I got up and hugged him. The tears I held out before poured out silently and he didn't seem to mind at all. He stood there under the porch lights, hugging this emotionally broken girl who doesn't know any better.

At least it was something.

It was a hug; something I really needed. A hug comforts you, makes you feel all warm inside and when you feel that warmth, it makes you feel good. It makes you feel good about anything and everything. A hug is the cure for a million different illnesses.

"Thank you," I told him. "For coming here and making my day."

"You deserve it," Zayn smiled at me, opening the door just a crack. "Harry left behind a lovely friend."