Pain: Her (Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 84

"Alee," Harry's voice wakes me from my deep slumber. Half of his body is spread and tangled on mine as my obnoxious ring tone blares through the room, "Alee," Harry groans again shaking me. I'm still half asleep and don't know whether the ring tone is coming from my dream or reality, "fuck, Aleevonne! Your phone." the warmness on my body quickly disappears and a wave of coldness overcomes me while Harry lifts his irritated body up to reach across the nightstand to my phone. I flutter my eyes open trying to adjust to the light and just as he grabs my phone, he falls back down on my body, placing my phone on my chest and wrapping his arms around me once more, pulling me in to get comfortable. His body is extremely warm and his bare chest is soft against me. I weakly lift my arm to answer it only to see Alan's name flashing across it and my eyes subconsciously roll because I know why he's calling. I let the call go to voice mail and when his name disappears, five miscalls from him list below the time and date causing little worry to overcome me.

Harry brings the blanket back up to hide us underneath it; momentary creating a barricade around us to keep reality and all it's troubles and heartless shots of bullets away and he kisses my chest before pressing the side of his face back against it. So much has happened in the past twenty four hours it's hard to believe it all happened in one day. It feels like I've been living in this endless circle of drama and problems and I feel helpless. One problem vanishes then another appears just as the other defeated one falls and I'm the one who ends up struggling the most. What am I going to do now that Alan doesn't approve of Harry? It worries me to the point where it causes my chest to twist in ache because he's going to try to keep us apart and I don't want to go through that again.

I don't notice Harry watching me stare at the ceiling drowning myself with worry and suffocating thoughts and his finger lifts to rub my cheek in a soothing way, "what are you thinking about?" his hoarse morning voice seems deeper than usually, probably from all the stress but the strain is apparent.

"Too much," a long, held out sigh that I feel like I've been caging mixes with all but happiness; a happiness I know I'll never get.

"Don't worry about it," he dismisses with confidence, "everything will be alright." his voice fades away and his tired eyes struggle to keep themselves open. His heavy breathing decreases and he falls back into a sweet sleep but I remain wide awake.

I study his bedroom, the weird decor of the empty beer and Monster bottles lined up against the window, the hole in the wall from when he punched it because of his insane step-father; so many memories in this room I hold close to my heart. Though the last memory was when I left him, there are so many more before that still puts a smile on my face. He has seen me at my weakest and most vulnerable; only him. He's the only one to have ever seen me inside and out, the two sides of me I show when with people and without. He's the only one to have ever fought for me and even destroyed his own life just to rebuild mine.

I've said it plenty of times before how amazing he is, but I even go against myself at times; I'm my own hypocrite. I always say how much he has changed me and has been there for me, yet I call him a monster and accuse him of using my love. It bugs me, it fucking haunts me because I told him things I never meant and those words have scarred him. I'm not saying what he did was okay, it wasn't. It was horrible and completely against everything I believe and stand for but it's Harry. I've known him long enough to know what kind of man he truly is despite everyone's resentment and hatred towards him. He's human just like everyone else but in my eyes he's more than that. And I think the thing that caused me to over react was my belief that he was spot on perfect. No flaws or any type of weakness, completely immune to everything and so when he told me what he did, it surprised me. In my eyes, he's inhuman. He's immortal and beyond capable of destroying me just as fast as he built me and he's powerful and that's what I love so much about him. He's fearless but I'm not. He's strong, and I'm weak. I've always seen him, and still do, as this---impeccable man, and when the words, "I drugged her," was forced out of his mouth, not figuratively, but I felt my heart literally break before him. It was like the halo I've seen float above his head burst into flames and burn to ashes. What he did was nothing compared to my past, not even close, his was far worse but there's a reason why it's called the "past" not "present." And if me taking him back makes me naive, then so be it. I'd rather fight for what is fixable than to leave it and regret not ever giving it a chance. I don't want to see myself in a few months or even years wondering if I couldn've picked up the pieces and made it better, I don't want to go through that.