stand here with me || h.s

1.

One : Harry

I don't think there was anywhere that I felt more at home, than my actual home. My bedroom walls decorated with Harry Potter posters and there were a few trophies here and there and my bed sheets were still the Spiderman ones that mum had gotten when I had to have been around five or so. When I woke up inside our homely Cheshire home, I felt as though I should've been up and brushing my teeth for school, because really, nothing had changed. Besides the interior style and decoration, nothing had changed. Before dragging my body downstairs, I pulled my hair up into a bun, ignoring the oils that came from the lack of washing. I'd shower later. Maybe. My fingers reached for a breakfast sausage just as mum slapped my hand away. "Have some manners, you..." Her half smile showed and I smiled widely before wrapping an arm around her neck and hugging her. "Goodness, Harry, you are one smelly boy..." I lifted my arm to have a sniff and yes, I wasn't the freshest smelling lad, that was for sure.

"Mum, don't be mean."

"Well, I'm not going to lie to you, if that's what you want."

"I'll shower after breakfast."

"Mhm, you better." She said with a raise of her eyebrow.

"Robin left, yeah?"

"About an hour ago, yes." She began fixing me a plate. "Would you like to do something today? You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?" I was going back to London after a very peaceful week in the countryside.

"Yeah. What did you want to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe we can just go for a nice lunch? Do a bit of walking around?" I nodded and took a bite out of the sausage on my plate.

"We can do that. We can do whatever you want."

"Alright, my love." We ate together and she asked me little bits and pieces about how long I'd be staying in London and though a word wasn't uttered about California, I knew she didn't want to hear that I would be going back, she didn't quite like when I was there. You're just so far away, darling. I missed my family when I was gone but I also hadn't been in Los Angeles much after the split. Couldn't quite bear it. I'd spent some time with Niall, in Dublin, Louis, Liam and I spent a bit of time together in London, and of course there was Nick and Gem. I had been able to keep busy, which was good. It kept me sane. After doing the dishes, I headed back upstairs to shower when my phone buzzed with a text from Gem, asking when I'd be getting in tomorrow. I sent her a message back, saying I'd be there around three or four. She responded with an invite to a small gathering her mate was having. I told her I'd think about. I hadn't been too keen on partying after everything happened. I made sure I spent my free time writing music and hanging out with only close friends. They knew not to ask about her. I'd gone out with Nick once and the amount of questions I got regarding it all sent me into another long depression that was difficult to shake. The people I was closest to learned very quickly, not to ask or even mention her. It was still such a fragile and open wound. I believed it always would be. Though I never spoke about it, I thought about her every day. Little things, really. I thought about the face she'd make as she did her makeup, or the way she looked at herself in the mirror. I thought about her laugh constantly and her eyes, especially when they were trained on me. I thought about how much I missed just simply being near her. Her presence—the air surrounding her was always just so lovely. She was so lovely. I knew she was seeing Adam, I wasn't sure how serious they were, but every so often, I'd Google her and they'd be photographed together—mainly in New York. I couldn't bear the thought, so I pretended it wasn't real. I pretended sometimes that she was just waiting for me to come home. The movie was set to finish filming in late August and I knew at some point, we'd both be back in Los Angeles, but I kept pushing the thought away. I hadn't seen her since that night in Napa. In person, that is. I knew once I did...I knew my world would spiral back out of control. Being away from her, I had perfected the façade that everything was fine. I was always smiling and happy but I think the boys and Nick and my family...they knew. They all knew when the happiness didn't match the dullness in my eyes. It wasn't really there, but they didn't pry and they pretended a little bit too. Pretended to not notice how I truly was not okay. Not even remotely close. The end of our relationship had changed me—something in me had disappeared, like, my heart I think? It didn't beat like it used to. It was always a little bit slow and off and I still couldn't entirely breathe. Sleep had become difficult. Smiling was almost always forced. A piece of me had been ripped away when the end came. When I walked away from her that night, it's like, happiness became this mythical, far off thing that I just couldn't seem to grasp. Like I said, little things. Every time I caught sight of the word inked into the skin on the inside of my forearm—something—I had to blink away the tears and swallow down the lump lodged in my throat. Yeah. The little things. This was my thought process, day in and day out. Around others, I'd plaster on that smile and I'd laugh like everything was just peachy. I'd go about my day, and there was always something that triggered a memory or a thought and my smile would falter and my throat would close up, but I'd regain control and I'd go on as if nothing happened. As much as I hated those fleeting moments, I was terrified of the day they stopped. I think that's when I'll know it's really over.