Fooled (Larry Stylinson) ✅

20. Regrets

Harry's Point of View

"Are you okay, Harry?" Chris asked me quietly, fiddling with his drum stick. We were in the studio waiting for Liam, who was out getting our new costumes for the music video shoot we were doing this weekend.

"You don't even seem excited about the video shoot. Is this still about Louis? Dude you got rid of Sharon, so just ask Lou out already," he said with a bit of aggression.

Unlike Liam, who usually showed a tasteful amount of aggression (if there is such a thing), Chris was extremely direct and hardly ever bet around the bush. But at least he actually asked me about my life.

Liam had hardly spoken to me about anything outside of the music world since I moved out. And honestly, Chris was a pretty messy person -- by the smell of his room, I'm pretty sure he hasn't done his laundry in the past month -- and I've been itching to move back to my place. But it seems like Liam doesn't want me near him in the studio, let alone at home.

Shaking my head, I toyed with the microphone in front of me. It was awesome how we got to use all this new equipment without paying for it. The perks of being signed. If only getting signed hadn't been such a life-ruining experience....

As Chris mentioned, Sharon and I had broken up -- which had not been easy. Liam refused to let me be the one to break up with her. He said it would ruin the relationship and that she could let our label sink and basically cut us without breaking the contract.

And yeah, I know, I know, I know. I don't have to listen to Liam. Liam isn't the boss of me. That's what Louis told me and my decision to continue listening to Liam was ultimately the reason our relationship didn't work out, the reason I fucked everything ups

But hear me out here. I had just wasted two months of my life dating this awful, delusional woman and being tied down to my bed every other night for mediocre BDSM sex. Two months of torture. Two months of discomfort. Not to mention, my relationship with Louis had been ruined — my relationship with myself had been ruined, even. So I wasn't just going to throw this all away by making a rash, impulsive decision.

I thought about it. I sat down and I seriously considered it and I realized Liam was right. There was no way this would fly. I knew Sharon and I knew the shrill piercing scream she would let out if I dumped her. I knew the way she would slam the door and probably throw a toaster at my head or something. And I knew that stubborn bullheaded fake blonde would do everything in her power to destroy me my band.

So no, I couldn't dump her. This had to be her decision. I had to make her want to dump me, make her think it was her choice. Or at least make it her fault. And so that's what I did.

You know when people on TV act absolutely ridiculously so their partner dumps them? Well that's exactly what I did -- or at least tried to do. Sharon was so self absorbed and rude that she barely noticed my shitty behavior. Even when I refused to hold her hand and didn't text her back. Even when I blatantly disagreed with all her opinions. Even when I started wearing sandals with socks in public. Even when I turned my phone off for three days straight and posted photos of myself at the club. Even then.

She just didn't react to any of it -- she didn't even get mad. She would just show up at my apartment, craving sex and pretending nothing ever happened. And that just made things worse for me in more ways than one.

So ultimately, I knew I had to do something more drastic. And I ended up doing something I wasn't proud of. If you thought I was immoral and two-faced before, I can't imagine what you might think now. Because this shit was bad as fuck.

But hey, this is Sharon we're talking about.

So here's what I did. When I was working in the studio I met this guy Juan. He basically looked like the Latino version of me, with long, dark brown hair, perfectly tanned skin and deep hazel eyes. He was tall, with a small but muscular build— honestly, he had abs for days. Even I found him sexy...

One thing I knew about Sharon was that she loved telenovelas (Spanish/Latino soap operas) and she even told me once that she had always wanted a Latin lover.

So here's what I did. I paid Juan 100$ to take her on a date. Although, after witnessing Sharon scream at a camera man, he asked for 200$. I gave it to him. Poor dude didn't know he deserved 500$ at least.

The plan worked perfectly. Juan approached Sharon while I wasn't around. According to Juan, she freaked out and said yes (actually kind of insulting considering I put a lot of effort into our fake relationship, but hey she was shallow af). Once I knew the plan had worked, I set everything into motion, ready to rock and roll.

When I showed up to the fusion restaurant during their date that night (with Liam, so it wouldn't seem super weird), Sharon looked ashamed for the first time in her life. And trust me, this was one of many things she should be ashamed of.

"Oh.... oh my god... Har....I'm, I'm so sorry, Harry," Sharon squeaked, her face red and her eyes wide. She finally at a loss for words for once, which I found absolutely satisfying.

In response to her 'apology,' I did my best impression of a hurt face, drawing my inspiration from Buddy the Elf when he got his finger pricked, and answered her with teary eyes.

"Sharon, how could you?!" I moaned. "We're through!" And then I ran out of the restaurant, wishing the tears hadn't been so real. They were tears of joy, not sadness, but still. I didn't want to be seen crying in front of Juan. Just in case we ever met again or anything.

So yeah, I cancelled out one lying, manipulative event with another lying manipulative event. And it worked. Juan never talked to Sharon again after that date. He actually asked me to Venmo him another 50$ because apparently Sharon had licked his thigh in the parking lot... and Sharon never spoke to me again either. In fact, she asked for another agent to take over our management and avoided eye contact with me at all costs whenever I saw her at the studio with other clients. It was a win-win-win.

Or so I thought.

I guess I had imagined that after it was all over, I would feel better. But I didn't. Not in the slightest. I felt dirty, unethical. Downright disgusting, even. Because I realized I wasn't just a liar and a manipulator — I was a repeat offender. This whole time, I had never stopped lying, and it was atrocious.

I began to think maybe Louis was right for rejecting me. Because honestly, someone like him wasn't worth his time. He deserved someone better, someone more morally upright and kind and caring. I was just a selfish piece of shit who blamed my roommate for making me do things that I willingly decided to do.

Fuck.

And so, the next morning when I woke up after ending it with Sharon, I didn't feel the sweet relief of freedom like I had expected, but instead, a sickening wave of nausea. I felt racked with guilt, weighed down by my lies and my dirty deeds and my meaningless words and empty promises. So instead of hopping out of bed and celebrating with the boys, I rolled over and went back to bed, caccooning myself in the covers and hiding from the world.

After that, I didn't feel the same. Weeks went by and every day it got harder to get out of bed. Harder to eat, harder to sleep. I hardly made it to band practice on time anymore, and I almost got fired from my job at Payless for missing too many shifts. I wasn't even writing music anymore — Liam was doing all the work, because every time I tried I would just write one word and then crumple it up, never feeling good enough.

All the while, as I spiraled deeper and deeper into depression, I never stopped thinking about Louis. I never stopped thinking about the one thing — the one guy— who I finally cared about more than myself, more than anything really. How I had him, and then I lost him. And how it was all my fault.

I know I could have gotten him back, or at least I could have tried. But with every passing day, I just felt like more of a piece of shit, and it just seemed less and less worth it. Maybe he was better off without me.

So as Chris and I sat here in the studio waiting for Liam, I didn't have an answer for him about why I hadn't reached out to Louis. Because there wasn't one. I was suffering and yet again, it was because I had dug my own grave.

"Dunno," i replied with a husky voice. "Maybe today will be the day." Or maybe not.