Because Hearts Get Broken

I cannot be your friend

Harry keeps his distance from her. No calls, his messages more spaced out.

And she misses him even more. It's getting to the point where she finds it hard to focus on anything. She's trying to finish a song, but the past few hours have turned into an endless cycle of going over the same verse again and again, unable to move forward with the lyrics.

She's re-read their text conversations on her phone far too many times, replayed their late-night talks in her mind, daydreaming about what might happen if she called or just sent that damn message. But she can't risk it. All she wants is for things to go back to how they were between them.

She sighs. Walking into her living room and slumping on the sofa. She grabs her phone, scrolling through social media. Harry's new music video is out.

She grabs the tv remote and searches for it on YouTube, pressing play. The video does not help calm her fraught nerves, at all.

The song is about aching for someone he's yearned for too long. It's hitting way too close to home. Images of his hands roaming, touching skin, his lips kissing, and whispering in his video partner's ear make her groan in despair. She can't help but imagine what it would be like to be in her place. But she already knows; all she has to do is think back, and the memories flood her.

She wanders around her apartment, lost in thought, fantasising as she heads to her room and gets ready for bed. In her mind, it's all about the warmth of his touch, the intense, dark green of his eyes as he enters her, the way he stretches her, takes her apart, and puts her back together, making her feel whole again and again, while her hands fist in his hair.

She wakes up that night drenched in sweat.

*mature content warning*

A couple of heated nights later, Taylor's phone buzzes on her nightstand, dragging her from a deep sleep.

Groggy, she rubs her eyes and squints at the screen. It's nearly 3 a.m., and Harry's name glows in the darkness. Her heart skips a beat, she feels a familiar wave of physical excitement and emotional dread flooding her as she hesitates, but then answers.

"Harry?" she whispers, her voice thick with sleep.

He sounds low and rough, like he's been battling something all night. "Hey, did I wake you?"

She shifts in bed, trying to clear the fog from her mind. "Yeah, but it's okay. What's going on?"

There's a pause on the other end. When he finally speaks, his voice is raw, almost desperate, tinged with the slur of alcohol.

He has been drinking.

Drinking and trying to distract his brain from the thought of her, and his body from the want of her. The blonde he met at the club only made it worse; he tried convincing himself she could be enough, but she wasn't even close. Not enough to feel like her.

So he stumbled back home and into bed, alone, still hard, with Taylor flooding his mind. He wants her, needs her. All he can think about is holding her, kissing her, taking care of her.

"I've been thinking about you. I can't stop thinking about you, Taylor. I miss you."

Her breath hitches, heart pounding as the words sink in. She's been trying so hard to bury her own feelings, to push them aside. But now, hearing his voice, everything she's been holding back rushes to the surface.

"Harry..." she chokes out his name, her voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out a shaky breath, like his name on her lips is the lifeline he's been holding onto. "I miss everything about you," he says, his voice trembling. "The way you laugh. The way you fit into my arms. The way you looked at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered."