Diligence [H.S.]

TWENTY

Chapter Song: Sweat by ZAYN

...

HARRY STYLES

I hold my breath while I click on the familiar folder that has sat dormant and untouched since I left for tour.

When rows of photos and videos appear on the screen in front of me, my chest sinks and swells simultaneously, causing my lungs to feel overwhelmingly tight. Despite that sensation and how it makes it much more difficult for me to get any air into my lungs, I instantly click on the first photo.

My heart warms at the sight in front of me. The first photo is a digital copy of the ever-so-famous Polaroid photo of us walking through the sunflower fields. That feels like a lifetime ago.

A sad smile takes over my lips. I was so fucking nervous that day. Nothing could have prepared me to be so close to her later that night when I decided to tease her. That backfired on me in seconds. I was so close to saying screw it in terms of being terrified of the light and airy sensation in my stomach she always caused. I acted as if it didn't phase me.

The mouse hovers over the arrow so I can scroll through the photos—hundreds and hundreds of them. From the beginning of us up until the night before I left her here to travel the world and perform. The few photos we took in New York haven't even been added here yet.

I know that the time we've known each other and been together is far from being considered minimal, but some of these photos feel like they were taken ten years ago.

The first time I spent the night at her apartment. Photos I sneakily took of her sleeping beside me in her old bed. Our first visit to Beachwood Cafe together. Our first Thanksgiving together. Then, our second. Christmas. New Year's Eve. Valentine's Day. Lazy mornings and late nights in bed together. Visits with Dylan. Date nights. Every photograph ever taken throughout our relationship is here.

My heartbeat is steady but powerful. Strong enough to echo and rattle through my chest as I stare at the memories I have refused to look back on until now. The moments that I once forced to the deepest parts of my mind with alcohol because I feared it would be too painful. Maybe it would have been if the timing were different. A few months ago, I don't think I would have been able to do this. 

Now, finally being able to appreciate the memories, I'm able to play back in my mind like movies. I'm not sure why I ever allowed myself to go this long without looking at them.

I'm not sure how long I spent scrolling through the various and endless photos and videos. It could have been hours or a few minutes, but I couldn't care less about time now. Even if I stay up until the daylight begins to peak through the curtains, I won't regret it.

I know the Andrea and I captured in these photos are not who we are today. Even though I accept who we've become, that doesn't mean I want to forget the past. I may have wanted that temporarily out of emotional pain and resentment, but now I know that's the last thing I want.

How could I have ever wanted to forget this–no, her? How the hell did I ever think the right thing for me to do was to try and forget her?

It isn't until I click the arrow once more and land on a zipped file that my heart stops entirely.

My hand pulls back off the mouse like I've just burned my fingertips. Instantly, my heart rate picks up, as if I've just been caught doing something wrong. My face overheats, spreading from the tips of my ears to my cheeks and chest, undoubtedly blushing my skin to a shade of deep red as I stare at the locked file with wide eyes and a gaped mouth.