Promises Broken (Harry Styles)

Chapter 10

Our lips moved together in sync and I wrapped my arms around his neck which caused our bodies to push closer together. I took in the minty taste of his lips, not wanting the moment to end. I was about to lean in even more but Zayn pulled back and I gasped for air. A silence filled the air and I was the one to speak up. “I can’t believe I did that oh my god Zayn I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into me,” I knew exactly what got into me, I kissed Zayn and I liked it. This made me question my feelings towards Harry, was I still in love with him or did I just want someone to love me?

“Brookly, I erm, I’m going to go back to my room…” Zayn got up and started walking towards the door.

“No, wait!” I got up and paused. “Please… please don’t tell Harry.” I begged with my eyes and watched him walk out the door, leaving me standing there alone in my hotel room once again.

HARRY

I just finished talking to Paul, begging him to talk to Simon for me. I looked at my watch and saw it was time for Brooklyn to leave so I started to run towards our room. I pulled out my key card and the door clicked open. “Fuck,” I muttered when I saw her things weren’t there anymore. I walked and sat down on the couch and took out my phone to text her.

To: Brooklyn- Im guessing you left for your flight… Im so sorry i couldnt be there. Call me when you land xx.

I sighed and pressed send. These next few months are going to be hell if management doesn’t say yes to Paul.

BROOKLYN

I was a wreck on the whole plane ride home, my mind was cluttered with thoughts. I wanted to tell Harry so badly, but I also didn’t. I actually liked the kiss, I know I shouldn’t have but I did and I can’t control that. I just pray that Zayn doesn’t tell anyone. I know what I did was wrong and I shouldn’t had taken advantage of Zayn like that but there was a part of me that was glad I kissed him. I shaked my head, clearing my thoughts. I focused back on the streets of the city, only a few more minutes until I got back to my apartment. The cab finally stopped at my apartment building and I paid the driver $30 and got out. He helped me with my bag and then drove away. I walked up the steps and rummaged through my purse for my keys. I was about to put the key in the lock when I saw the door was cracked open. “What the hell…” I muttered to myself when I saw what had happened to the inside of my apartment. “Oh my fucking god.” I took in the scene around me: flipped chairs and table, marks and dents all over my wall, and my easel with the painting I’ve worked months on, ruined. I grabbed my phone and dialed 911, “Hello, yes, my name is Brooklyn. I just arrived home after vacationing in Toronto for a few days and my apartment door was opened and the inside is trashed.” I spoke, my voice shaking. The thousands of dollars I spent for the apartment went down the drain.

Once the police arrived and I told them what happened, they scanned the area for fingerprints but they couldn’t find any. “Who ever did this did a great job covering up their tracks,” one officer told me. “Ma’am, do you know who could have done this to you?”

"Not at the moment, no."

"Alright, just call the station if you can think of anything or if you have any questions." The officer said. I thanked him then proceeded to go inside and clean up the damage which insurance didn't pay for. I started small and cleaned up the table and chairs which nothing surprisingly happened to them. I grabbed the paint that I painted my walls with and painted over the lipstick that the bandit had scribbled over the walls with. Lastly, I picked up my painting. The canvas had been scratched, and devil horns had been painted on the man in the picture, my father. I had been working on that painting for four months, carefully painting on every detail of the last picture I took of my dad. He looked so happy in the picture despite his illness taking a massive toll on him.

“Oh dad,” I sighed. I begged myself not to start crying, because if I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. My lip quivered and the tears began to form in my eyes as I thought about my dad. I missed him so much. I willed myself not to pick up that blade, the thing that had ruined my life. I slowly walked over to my room, my feet dragging on the wooden floor, I felt like a zombie. I undressed myself and slipped on shorts and a tshirt and crawled into bed, my heart feeling empty but my mind cluttered with thoughts.

***

I opened my eyes to see that my bedroom was still dark. I turned my head to check the time and saw it was only six o’clock in the morning. I picked up my phone and saw I had a message from Harry.

From: Harry- Hey u never texted me back after u got off the plane, r u okay?

It said Harry sent the message close to midnight, well after I fell asleep. I texted him back, saying I got home fine. I told him to call me though, I need to tell him what happened. Almost immediately after I sent the text Harry called me.

“Hello?” I said into the phone, my voice cracked because I had been crying the whole night.

“Have you been crying?” Harry asked and I nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see me. “Brooklyn, what happened?”

“W-Well, uhm, after I got back to my apartment I saw the door was opened and the inside was completely destroyed. I called the police but they couldn’t find any fingerprints. Harry, I’ve been working on a painting of my dad for months and who ever broke in completely destroyed it."

“Fuck, I’m sorry baby. I wish I could be there with you right now. I’m about to board the plane for the next stop on the tour, but I’ll call you as soon as I land, alright? I love you.”

I nodded then clicked ‘end call’ on my cell phone. I was now more broken than ever, inside and out.