Broken Repair (Larry Stylinson)

Departures and Arrivals

Monday comes around far too quickly. Dressing quickly in a loose shirt and jeans, I push into the lounge, spotting Harry talking on the phone with his suitcase next to him.

"...and yeah, he told me that we'd be meeting at the airport." I hear his voice. I'm aware of how messy I must look, my hair is all over the place and this has to be the most casual I've looked in ages. "Right, so I'll see you in 9ish hours? Okay. Bye."

He looks over at me. I know we have to say goodbye somehow but I know we couldn't kiss. I want to, and that's a very, very bad thing.

"So I'll see you in two weeks?" I say, starting the inevitable goodbye. He swallows and runs his fingers through his hair before putting them in his pockets.

"Yeah." He says. It feels awkward. How do fuck buddies say goodbye? "See you later, Boobear."

He grabs his suitcase and pulls it towards the door. This is the weirdest thing, feeling your heart ache for someone it shouldn't.

"Bye, Hazzabear." I say, and he leaves through the door. The room he leaves behind with me in it feels too empty, too quiet.

What do I do now? Would he call me or text, or would he just ignore me until he got back? I'm sure the latter would make more sense, but I could never tell with Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday. I work out for a while, before watching Netflix for a few hours. I didn't realise how much of my time Harry actually took up.

Talking of Harry, he text me to let me know he reached New York okay.

From: Hazzabear
Hi. I got to New York alright. See you soon. H x

To: Hazzabear
Okay. Cheers for letting me know. X

Even our texts looked awkward, or was that just me? I mean, my one looked definitely awkward.

Stupid thoughts that I shouldn't think flicker through my mind. Would he fuck other girls while he was over there? He wasn't mine to claim. I had no right to care about that.

Yet I still thought about it.

~~~~~~~~~

Wednesday. I play FIFA for most of the day. I smell a little, I haven't showered but I really can't be bothered to move.

I haven't heard from Harry today. He's busy and let's be honest, I shouldn't be waiting for a text. Would he be waiting for one from me?

I send him a picture of me, lounging in his chair playing my games with a stupid cross eyed face.

Having fun? X

I keep it simple. I don't expect a text back, knowing it's expensive so I lay back and continue to play.

My phone buzzes and I grab it quickly. Calm down.

Harry sends back a picture of him behind a set somewhere, in a nice shirt and smiling politely.

Not as much fun as I've had in that chair. H. X

Every millilitre of blood rushes straight to my groin at that comment. Prick. I can't believe what he does to me.

I palm at my myself to try and relieve some of the pressure but I know where this is going. I huff, looking down at my crotch.

5 minutes later I release hard into my hand, still sat on the chair. I breath heavily, before coming to my senses. I grab my phone.

To: Hazzabear
Prick. You made me hard. X

I clean myself up. I've got to have a shower now, there's no getting round it. Pushing up, I undress. My phone goes off.