Pain 2: Him (H.S)

Chapter 2

Harry's POV:

Someone once told me that love is simply just a word if you don't give it meaning. There's no life behind it, no purpose or use if you don't bring it to life. You have to create the words and feelings to define it so that it represents you and what you stand for. That someone, that smart, wise someone was Alee. She defined my love. She was the guard to my heart and the only one who had ever had access to it. She managed to bring me back to sanity and fuck me up all at the same time in just a matter of five months. She drove me crazy and pissed me off. Made me want to break every fucking window every time we fought but I loved it. At the time, all of the fighting and arguing was driving me insane but now, I miss it so much. I fucking miss her hitting me and calling me a dumbass, I miss her making fun of my jeans and how I only own three pares of the same one, I miss her flicking me every time she'd catch me staring, I miss her crying in my arms, I miss her sleeping in my bed, I miss the way she yelled when she got angry or the way her eyes would become ten times bigger when she would become really heated. I just miss her.

I fucked everything up. It wasn't my intention to but I did it anyway. I'm stupid, that's the damn problem. I always think of the hard and bad ways to fix things rather than doing the right things and I always let her slip through my fingers, always. I always end up hurting her and causing her pain over every thing I do and she finally gave up. I hurt her so much. I made promises and broke them all, I lied straight to her face and even worse I made her cry. I was the reason for her tears and I can't shake the image out of my head.

She has done everything for me since the day we met and all I've managed to do was bring tears to her eyes and stress her out. I broke her more when she needed to be fixed and here I am, seven days later watching her walk passed me with the same pain in her eyes; the pain I caused her.

I didn't know she was in the bathroom listening. Hell if I did, I wouldn't have said all those things to Niall. I didn't mean any of it, she should've known that. I love her more than I love anyone else, why would I fuck and use her for pleasure? The only promise I managed to keep was to truely love her with all of my heart and I did that. Despite my fuck ups, I gave her my whole heart. Metaphorically and truthfully speaking, the microscopic heart I had, I ripped it out of my chest and placed it in her hands because I trusted her. She was the only one who had seen me cry and become vulnerable the way I did. I turned into a huge softy when I was around her because I couldn't take being serious or mean and on top of that, she changed me. I was an asshole and inconsiderate dick who, just like she said, fucked every girl with a pulse while I got high trying to numb my problems so that I wouldn't have to deal with them, until she came along. She changed me as a whole and made me feel a love I thought never existed. I loved her before she even had the chance to feel true love but the one I feel for her is so indescribable.

Every little thing about her is immaculate. Every single part of her is flawless and so mesmerizing she could put a top model down without even trying. I can still picture the way her long brown hair fell over her shoulder and how her side bangs flipped so perfectly and naturally. How her big brown eyes would sparkle every time she'd see me and how her cheeks flushed whenever I'd call her 'baby.' My baby. Her laughter replays in my head every single day, her voice resounds over and over even when I'm surrounded by nothing but noise, and her's seems to always overpower it.

But I love it.

I love hearing her, I love seeing her even though I think I'm going insane. It's a comfort to my broken heart and even though she's gone, the vision of her makes it seem as though she had never left.

I stare at her pictures like an obsessive psychopath all the time and trace over her printed smile wishing nothing more than to kiss it. Her lips were always my weakness. They were always so soft and smooth, warm and fitted perfectly with mine like a puzzle. I miss how her tiny hand intertwined with mine and how even more small they'd look when being compared. I miss touching her and feeling her, I miss feeling her hands trail down my back, I miss her saying my name and tracing my tattoo's, I just want it all back. I want to call her everyday just to hear her voice but I'm afraid she won't answer. I think that's what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid that her not answering will be the confirmation that she really is done with me and I know I won't be able to handle that.