Imagines (5SOS and 1D)

PART 4 Too Late To Apologise (M.C)

* Y/N stands for your name *
* Y/B/F stands for your best friends name*

HIS POV

I slammed into the hotel room and headed straight for the bedrooms.

She didn't tell me what I wanted to hear, she didn't explain a thing and she didn't let me explain.

I didn't have much time left.

I was leaving again tomorrow and heading to America, meaning I'd be miles away from her.

The spaces were just getting deeper, longer, wider.

I couldn't leave without telling her.

The door cracked shut as I pushed it, making me flinch.

I didn't realise how much anger I was feeling until I heard that sound and it just made me angrier.

It ignited the fire burning inside and made me raging.

I kicked at a chair in the corner, a chucked a book across the room, and whacked the pillows against the walls until they burst.

The feathers from inside the pillows floated around the room, heaping in little clusters around me.

I roared, throwing my head back and exploding as the pain and heartache I was feeling ripped from my very soul.

I could feel my heart breaking, splitting in half and then smashing into millions of little pieces.

She had taken it, taken it in her small fists and shattered it without even knowing.

She had taken the life out of me, and every ounce of my body felt completely empty.

I dropped to my knees, the lifeless pillow clutched in my fists and I sobbed.

I sobbed for the first time but not the last.

Where did I go wrong?

I ended up losing not only the one I loved, but the best friend a guy could ask for.

I regret every thing about that night, but I don't regret how it ended.

She was special, that night was special.

I'd made one of the biggest mistakes I could and I couldn't reverse it no matter how much I wanted too.

I didn't know how long I stayed there, knelt in a pool of my own tears.

I didn't know when he came in and pulled me up, taking me to lay on the bed.

I didn't know how long he held me whilst I sobbed or how much of my bullshit he listened to.

But I owed him for it.

Calum was a good friend.

I wasn't.

I was no good.

I didn't deserve her.

Why did I do it?

My worst mistake.

--

YOUR POV

* A few days later *

It's taken me so long to let my doubts go and stop myself from being scared of what I feel.

I've been scared to let go, scared that I'd later come to regret it.

But I allowed myself to let it go, I watched it float away and get lost in the storm that was raging within.

I was lost without him, but I couldn't allow myself to admit that.

He hadn't called or text, he'd just let me let go.

And he'd done the same thing.

I realised that love was a crazy thing and made us do foolish things.

And I'd allowed myself to be foolish as I fell.

I allowed myself to give everything to him, believing he'd take care of it and keep it safe.

But he'd dropped it all, stamped on it and left it to be broken at my feet.

I knew by now he'd be in America and wouldn't be able to visit me, even if he wanted to.

Not that he wanted to.

He obviously didn't care, that much was obvious.

I still had his schedule on my calendar, and I couldn't bring myself to delete it.

If he wanted to give me a chance, if he wanted to let me prove to him that I loved him more than anything, he would let me.

However, he didn't let me.

I was wasting my time with him.

A knock at the door broke me from my saddened thoughts and I slowly made my way to answer it.

The person on the other side was not who I expected.

And not who I wanted to see, even if I denied it.

I pushed the door shut, but his hand caught it and kept it open.

"Please let me in Y/N," he begged. "Let me explain."

"I don't want to hear it Michael," I lied. "I don't want this."

Everything I said was a lie, even my body knew that because my hands were becoming looser on keeping him out.

I wanted to let him in, and not just in the house.

I wanted to let him in my heart, but I couldn't.

It was now caged up and afraid to be exposed, again, to the amount of hurt he'd caused.

"Please," he pleaded softly.

I dropped back, stumbling, not able to keep him out.

"I'm sorry," he apologies.

"Don't do this Michael," I beg. "It's already difficult enough. I don't need to be hurt anymore."

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, and it looked like I'd hurt him with my words.

"I deserve the chance to explain," he whispered.

"No, I can't let you do that," I disagree. "Leave please."

"You don't want that," he challenges, stepping closer.

"I do," I lie.

He steps even closer and presses his lips against mine.

Every part of me wants to let go, take away the wall that has been protecting me for so long and loose myself in his kiss.

But the smallest, most annoying part of me wants to keep myself locked away from him.

And my hands come to his chest pushing him away.

"Don't do that again," I warn, my shaky voice tipping off how unsure I am about that.

"It's unfair to mess with my feelings like that," I whisper.

"I'm not messing with your feelings," he cries. "And if you'd let me explain, then you'd understand."

The begging behind his voice is killing me and I want more than anything to allow him to speak.

But I can't.

I shake my head and open the door.

"I want you to leave now," I say, my voice stronger than I'm feeling.

He stays where he is, refusing to acknowledge what I have just said to him.

"Leave," I seethe, opening the door wider.

He looks uncertain about his next move, as his body tilts from side to side.

But he suddenly sees the impatience on my face and pushes past me as he leaves, slamming the door shut.

I flinch at the sound and wonder how many times I've heard a door slam in the past week.

The answer?

Too many to count!

--