Between Us [Spaces Sequel]

t w e n t y - f i v e

The next morning, I immediately saw Harry's missed calls. He had left me a few voice mails. Even though I was angry, I still missed his voice, so I started listening to them.
Hey, love. It's me. Harry. I really don't know what to say to you, except I'm sorry. I'm just an idiot. Like the biggest idiot in the universe. And I... Gosh, how do I start this? Whenever I record voice mails, I talk so much that I usually get cut-.
I smiled a little, before listening to the second voice mail.
Second try. It's me again, by the way. I'm sorry for being such an idiot. I should've made some more time for you. I should've treated you better. It's not even been a day and I already miss your voice. I barely slept last night, I can't get you off my mind. Please call me. I love you, Scar.
I opened his third message.
Sorry, I called again, because I miss your voice and the only way I can hear it right now is through your answerphone.
I sighed and put my phone down, before making my way to the shower.

"How do I look?" Kaya asked me, fixing her hair once more.
"Just like I already told you, you look great. He's an idiot if he doesn't think that."
She smiled and sighed. "I know... It's just been a long while since I've been on a date. What if something goes wrong?"
"Nothing will go wrong," I reassured her, stirring my cup of tea. Just then, I heard the doorbell ring. Kaya's eyes went big, as she looked at me in panic.
"Go, go, go!", I whispered, motioning for her to get the door.
"Alright," she replied, walking towards the door.
I stayed in the kitchen until she had left with her date, before I went downstairs to get the mail. I sat down at the dining room table, eyeing several bills, before I suddenly saw the envelope. My name was on there, handwritten. I immediately recognized the writing that made my blood boil and rush through my veins, making my heart pound.
Without any hesitation, I grabbed the letter and dumped it into the garbage can. He could write me as many letters as he wanted, I would never read them.
I sat down at my desk, put on some music and started taking some notes I needed for my seminar paper. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't help but wonder what his letter said. Even though I told myself over and over that I probably didn't want to read what he had to say, my mind always wandered off. I was dying to know what that letter said. After about one hour of trying to distract myself, I gave up and walked back to the garbage can. With a deep breathe, I lifted the letter, before sitting on my bed and opening the envelope.
I unfolded the letter, my heart breaking when I saw his handwriting. And even though I could've still thrown it away again, I decided to read it. I needed to find peace and not reading the letter would always make me wonder what it said.

Scarlett,

I know I was a bad father. More like a terrible father. I am very sorry for what I did in those past weeks and years. Just so you know, I go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings now. I am aware that I will never be able to make it up to you. I've hurt you and it took me way too long to notice that. When I asked you for forgiveness, I meant it. Maybe one day there is a chance for us to talk, although I am sure you don't want to see me again. Somehow I just needed to get this off my chest. A thousand apologies could never make up for the pain I put you through. Everything that happened with your mother back then, made me want to run. Instead of running, I started drinking. Your mother told me several times that I was an alcoholic, but I was convinced that each drink would be my last one. It was the drinking that made me who I was. I want to become a better person, since I failed at being a good father to you.
If you read this, I'll already be back in the U.S. I only want the best for you and I know that your life is so much better without me. If it's truly what you want, I won't bother you again.
I know that you never felt like I was your father, but still, we have the same blood. Maybe one day you'll be ready to forgive me and I'll gladly wait until that day comes.

Dad

Tears started forming my eyes as I put the letter aside. I sat on my bed, hating him even more. Hating myself for crying over him again. A huge pressure on my chest, I knew I needed someone to talk to. Kaya was gone and there was only one person I wanted to talk to in situations involving my father.
I sat down at my desk, opening Skype and calling Harry. It was only a few seconds, before his face appeared on the screen.
"Hey, you're finally calling," he said with a huge smile which faded again quickly. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm still mad at you, okay?" I said, earning a confused look from him.
"Okay," he then said.
"I am angry and I am sad, but I need someone to talk to. And I don't want Harry Styles, the famous singer, right now. I want the boy from Holmes Chapel, who used to work in a bakery... I want the boy I fell in love with. My best friend, not my boyfriend."
He nodded again, remaining so silent it was almost deafening. As much as I was angry in this very moment, it felt like he was the only person who would truly understand everything that I felt. He was the first person I talked to my dad about. There was no denying that Harry was my best friend and my person. The only person, I could always rely on. Even now, that we weren't on good terms, I knew he could still be my best friend instead of my boyfriend. I knew he would understand and listen to me, even if I would rant for hours. He was my person. He was the only one I could really rely on, even if he hurt me. I would always feel this way about him. The boy from Cheshire who texted the wrong number and then fell in love with a completely broken girl, trying everything to fix her, even if he didn't even know her personally back then.
"I got a letter from my dad. He apologized again. And he said that he left, he's back home again. He said he'd never bother me again," I said.
"Isn't that what you wanted?" He asked me.
"Yes," I said, wiping a tear. "But somehow... His words really hurt me. He said that he was an alcoholic and he still is, but he's getting help. And he said that his alcoholism made him who he was, but that's not true, is it?"
"Well, alcohol can make you an asshole," he said, looking down, probably overthinking our last encounter in Australia, where he was the drunk asshole. "But he can't use that as an excuse... I mean, he wasn't always drunk when he did those things to you, was he?"
"No," I said, sobbing. "I just feel guilty. I don't know why. That stupid letter, in which he makes himself look like a saint who made a few mistakes."
"Don't feel guilty, love."
"Well, I have no choice but to feel guilt right now," I told him. "The thing is, I don't even know why. Why does he always have to make himself look like he's the victim?"
"Because he's a narcissistic, back-stabbing wanker?" Harry replied, making me giggle. "See, there's that beautiful smile of yours."
I remained silent for a while, lost in the crossfire of my thoughts.
"Hey," I heard Harry say softly. "You know why you shouldn't be guilty and why he's not the victim? Your mother was a victim, long before he was an alcoholic. It wasn't the alcohol, in fact, it was his personality. Scarlett Ivy Thompson, you have every right to be angry. You have every right to hate him. Please don't feel guilt for the things he has done to you, his own flesh and blood. You know that none of this was your fault. And you know damn well that it wasn't just the alcoholism that made him who he is."
"Thank you," I whispered, smiling at him slightly.
"Anytime."
"What did I do to deserve all of this? Is there some kind of sin that I don't remember?" I whined, making Harry chuckle quietly.
"You deserve so much better, Scar. You know it. The universe can be a bitch sometimes, but the only way is up. From now it can only get better, because you are strong. Stronger than you know. You have what it takes to survive every battle that you are given. You are the strongest person I know," he said. "Seriously, I wish I could be more like you."
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you, too."
"I'm still mad at you," I added.
"Of course you are," he said. "I said take your time."
"I think I'm gonna keep the letter... just to remind myself that..."
"He's a narcicisstic, back-stabbing wanker who wouldn't even deserve you if he lived a million lives," he interrupted.
"Yeah," I replied. "I should hang up now, I have a paper due next week."
"Alright," he said. "Goodbye, love."
Without saying another word, I ended our call.