Luna and the Moon [H.S]

28: missing.

Quite possibly one of my favourite chapters, I hope you like it as much as I do x

Day one.

Twenty four hours of pain and loneliness. Lynn said I could come to work when I felt ready, whenever that was she'd have an apron ready for me when it happened. I remained in bed until each of my limbs ached from laying in the same spot for hours upon hours. Only for me to find a comfortable position on the couch in the living room and stay there for hours upon hours. I became that girl that wore baggy joggers, her boyfriends jumper and cried over a tub of chocolate ice cream.

Do I even call him my boyfriend now? I mean he didn't dump me, but we didn't exactly see eye to eye twenty four hours ago.

All of today has been spent checking my phone for an apology text or an unanswered voicemail from Harry, but nothing came. I kept the volume on the television and the music I would play through my headphones down, I didn't want to miss the knocking on the door in case Harry stopped by. But again nothing. He wasn't coming, I need to just accept that horrid fact and move on. But I damn well know I can't. How on earth do you just move on from somebody you love huh?

Even though he told me he didn't love me I should've stormed back to his apartment and demanded he tell me why he's acting the way he is, what's wrong with him and why he treated me like literal shit on the bottom of his shoe. He made me think I meant so much to him, he made me believe I was almost like a damn lifeline to him. But he pushed me away like I was a pesky fly buzzing around his head during the summer.

He allowed me to walk away from him, he didn't stop me, and he hasn't tried fix his mistake today. He hasn't been thinking about me obviously. Maybe I'm selfish and wanted his affection when he was too busy to deal with me, but is it so wrong to want a little love from somebody?

I spent my night watching romantic films, crying when they both got the happy ending they both desired. Envious of how content the characters became, jealous of their applaudably perfect relationships. God how I wished mine lasted as long as those on the television... 

Day two.

Today I visited my parents grave again, only this time I wasn't smiling and gushing about how much I was in love with him. This time I was crying and whining about how much my heart was aching for some mercy, begging to be released from its tight painful grip. But I couldn't allow it that freedom it so desperately desired because I myself had no idea how to allow it that. Harry left his mark on me, he was proving to be of somewhat an important stamp in my life, which I had an idea that was the case, but until now — until he's long gone — I didn't realise just how important he really became so soon.

I could practically hear the cogs of my mother's brain winding as she thought of many different excuses for Harry's sudden change of mood. She always rambled off excuse after excuse to try please me, make me happy and turn my frown upside down. But it never worked, ever.

And without the verbal commentary of the excuses I wouldn't have believed anyway, I broke into more sobs because she wasn't here anymore. I could practically feel Harry's arm winding around my body and cradling me like a small infant, babying me until I was giggling and kissing his plump pink lips. I desired affection from him, because I loved him. Why was it so bad to want that simple touch every day? Hear his nickname for me? Hear his voice in general for that matter. He treated it as though it was a crime to want to see him, like it was wrong to love a man like him.

What's so wrong about it?

Another night was spent cuddling my pillow, wrapped in a top that belonged and still smelt like Harry, crying into the pillow and thoroughly dampening the soft material.