SIX YEARS LATER || HS ✔️

seven

Letting go seems much easier to me, physically, rather than emotionally. Perhaps it's the fact of my body having the use many ties, or my mind and heart wanting me to hold on even tighter than before, which makes me frightened that it possibly is the case. Even after all the debating, Harry and I's adventures still don't change the fact of me cheating on my beloved. And, it makes me ponder upon the thought if I truly do 'love' him, or much so of having a presence in my life, so due to the unlovely idea of being lonely.

This morning, I woke up with an excruciating headache, and in the wrong bed. Someone who wasn't supposed to be beside me, was, and the past feeling of happiness was seemingly rejoiced. It ended quickly, though, with the thought striking me in the head of me being a cheater, as well. Nothing can change my actions.

I awoke with a setting glow, one laid parallel to me, and the other inside my structure. There are many thing I can supposedly blame my drastic mistakes on; the mild alcohol, the need for letting go, or the desperate want to feel wanted. Perhaps, it happened to be all of them set together in stone.

"Are you okay?"

And there it is; the voice of someone, the victim, to remind me of the deadly misinterpretations.

"I don't know," my lips quiver with the reply, mindlessly trailing off with my eyes glued to the floor.

The slaps of bare feet invade my senses, and I know that Harry is walking towards my frozen, and half-naked body. Truthfully, I'm not okay, especially with his stray black shirt wrapped around my torso, and nothing but undergarments on my lower half. It reminisces with the lustful events.

And a large finger lifts up my touched chin, the ex-lover motioning for me to directly find his eyes through the thickening air. HIs cold, yet dark irises are set in motion of worrisome, my mental state not helping the situation anymore.

"I know you're not," he murmurs, hand coming into contact with my cheek. "Do you have any regrets, though?"

No.

"Yes," I reply in such an untruthful way. "There were so many mistakes."

The hole is being dug deeper, and deeper, until I can find myself no way out. Disappointment lays within Harry, and I believe that he thinks I'm telling the unlawful truth.

"So many," he mutters, face coming closer to mine. "Yet it felt so right."

You're undeniably correct, Harry Styles.

"I can't do this, Harry," a minute complain burrows into the midst, and it's such a damn wonder of how I ran back to him. "I'm doing this to Bryan, well I did, and it's just the same as you did with Jamie, to me."

The mention of the sacred name makes both, Harry and I, internally cringe. And, for a moment, I think what happened between the two to make them split. They were engaged, after all.

"But, you said it, Brooklyn. You said that you're in love with me, and I'm still that twenty-something-year-old that was madly in love with you-,"

"The twenty-something-year-old who cheated on me, as well. Twice," I interrupt chaotically, standing up from the chair and out of Harry's grip. "I'm such a hipocrite because I'm doing the same exact thing to Bryan, and I vowed years ago that I would never. I do love you, yes, but you don't understand how fucking unhealthy you are to me. It's utterly terrifying, realizing how someone that used to be so intoxicating plays that feeling on me, once again, and does it every time I think of you. I can't go back that road; I can't feel the heartbreak."