Harvard Boy

Secrets.

So many times, they've held silence together. Hoping somehow it'd say whatever they're not- hoping it'd fill the blank void; the secrets whispering inconspicuously by.

But nothing has ever touched before, nothing like now.

"Harry I-"

"Don't." His jaw clenched. "I don't need your pity."

It only took the reminder; of how real it all was, to make him bitter; angry; and selfish, all over again.

"That's not what I'm doing, I just..."

She doesn't know what to say, it's an excuse, a very pliable one. That's why it hurts more; feels worse, and she doesn't know how that's possible, but it does anyway.

He can never be hers, can never change. Not with lies as big as existence, and betrayal as deep as the ocean.

"You just, are sorry. I know. Everyone is." His voice is lost, like the moment.

So much; to much.

Her mind goes into a frenzy. Imagining rushed phone calls of apologizes from his parents, gift baskets, and I'm sorry's whispered into his ear. Constant approval of forgiveness.

Constant attempts of lies to be shoved under the carpet- so conscious's could be clear, and time could be reversed.

But not Sam, she thinks. Immediately remembering their cruelty to one another since the beginning, Even after.

Then her mind begins to wonder.

He'd known everything, she'd read that in the journal. Reminding her, that he was apart of something much bigger than the small study groups they contributed in.

But didn't Sam have feelings for her? The kiss seemed proof enough. Yet he never tried to contact her, not since, not once.

She still doesn't understand why he withdrew.

Doesn't understand, how kind Sam, fits into this deceitful mold.

"Where's Sam Harry?"

His eyes widen, pulse quickens. Harry wasn't expecting that.

Of everything to say or do, in this very moment. Sam was never supposed to be uttered- even mentioned, into the conversation.

Harry was nervous now, with beads of sweat forming, and hands twitching.

Does she know?

Did she somehow get ahold of him?

No, not with the way she's looking at me.

The understanding between them had switched. She'd turned it all around. Guilt surged through him, and the subject had flipped.

"We're done with the twenty questions."

He stepped forward without a thought.

And before she could tell him 'no', or push him for more answers.

He grabbed her wrists, pulled her close.

She gasped when he slammed his lips into hers, teeth knocking, both aching for more.

"Get your shit, we're leaving." He whispered into her mouth, before licking inside.

A moan involuntarily escaped, and he felt her relax.

He felt her give in.

Grasping her hips, he let out a rumbling noise of approval. Feeling the lust; how right she felt; how much he wanted her.

The confession earlier made him more demanding. As if it's justified to get what he wants now, when he wants it. Simply because the world had taken it away, like he's owed something; everything.

Little did he know, that, that's not how the world works.

(The break could possibly mean that one direction may never be again- it's very possible. I'll always love them. And I'm so sad. But I just want them all to be happy. #Foreverdirectioner )