Weightless (H.S. BWWM)

Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Dropping Harry off at the airport had to be the hardest thing I've done in a while. I'd never seen him look so defeated. That usual playful twinkle in his eyes was gone, sadness replacing it as quickly as if it'd been hiding there all along.

Even though I ended up late for work it was worth it to see him off and hold on to him one last time. He's never held me as hard as he did that morning, both of us fighting back tears that I definitely didn't expect. Neither of us believed our voices wouldn't crack if we said a proper goodbye so we settled for a quick, "See you." I had to keep reminding myself it was only a couple of months as I walked away from the private airport apron. As long as they didn't add on any new shows we'd be back together as thick as thieves soon enough. I finally let the tears fall once I was safely in my car but only for a second and only a few.

That was almost a month ago. The tour seems to be going well according to the Twitter feedback and the reviews from different websites. However lately I've heard from Harry less and less. It's been a week and a half since our last full conversation and even that was cut short. I try to remind myself that this is tour life for him and that at the end of the day we aren't together. I don't hold any significant place in his life like a girlfriend would. He doesn't have to cut out time for me and I've learned to accept that.

Our contact when he first left has me spoiled, it started out strong. We'd Skype and talk late night or early in the morning depending on what part of the world he was in. He always had this tired look in his eyes that I wished I could snap my fingers and remove. I've always hated seeing him drained like that in pictures before I met him and to have that same exhausted expression directed at me made my chest ache. I felt so bad about keeping him awake or about him waking up early just to talk to me but he insisted that it was what he wanted to do. We texted constantly, in fact once or twice he texted me while they were on stage, which was so surreal. But by far, my favorite thing we did was our Snapchat souvenirs. Whenever one of us thought of the other or saw something one of us would like we would send a snap of it. Sometimes he'd send me pictures of the ocean or some monument in one of the amazing places they visited. But other times, my favorites if I'm honest, he'd send me pictures of himself. Simple selfies of him smiling, showing me those dimples I love to poke or of him making a silly face that seemed to always arrive to my phone when I needed it most.

Every now and then one of the boys would photobomb him or steal his phone and send me something crazy. I got more pictures of bare asses and nostrils than I could ever need courtesy of Niall and Louis with their "pranks" until Harry started keeping his phone on him at all times. It wasn't long after then that our conversations got shorter until they were reduced to sporadic texts. Soon enough I didn't wake up to cute selfies or pictures of the sunrise or sunset and I missed them. I missed him, like I've never missed anyone before and that alarms me.

Everything about my relationship with this man strikes fear into my heart. But I can't ignore the feelings it left behind in it's wake. Yearning moves through me like a parasite latching onto my doubt and pessimism, sucking them dry moment by moment.

There's no denying that I've fallen for him. I'm not completely in love but I'm a good portion of the way there. That realization in and of itself is a frightening miracle to me. I genuinely thought I was broken, that I no longer had the ability to feel after recovering from Charlie. But the truth is I haven't even tried. I never felt like anyone was worth the hassle until now and I hate it. I can see a future with Harry just as vividly as if it were our present situation. But I can also see the other side of that brightness because where there's light there's always darkness.

In our time apart I've had time to really take a step back and look at myself. I've got issues that no one else sees clearly but me. My reasons probably don't make sense to most but they resonate so deeply in my heart I feel them with every beat. It's like a stab accompanies every thump but when I'm with him it's less painful. He's morphine or novocaine, he numbs me yet he makes me feel good at the same time. It's safe to say I'm addicted to the feeling, the feeling of peace. The only war inside my head or heart is the one I create for myself, he never puts me at odds.