One (h.s.)

twenty eight

-july 2014-

we both wake in lonely beds in different cities

She left without a goodbye.

She packed up her bags the night after signing the papers, after having booked a flight back to England on the next day.

Charlotte specifically avoided seeing Harry on her departure, because, what would be the use of it? They couldn't leave together. They couldn't be together, for crying out loud.

She cried on the taxi on her way to the airport. She cried on the plane while the skinny flight attendants constantly came up to her to ask if she was alright. She cried on the taxi that drove her back to her penthouse. And the worst thing is, that she cried, not because she was divorcing her husband soon to be ex, but because she hadn't had the courage to face Harry. Because she loved him and she still fled away from him.

-

She left without a goodbye.

Harry didn't see her after the argument. He desperately wanted to talk to her, to see if she was okay (which was an absurd question because she was surely not okay). But he never found a moment where he had enough courage to actually knock on her door. He would go up the lift to room 309 and stand there like a moron, staring at the wooden door but not being able to let his knuckles come in contact with it.

And it was too late when he actually did. Because when he finally knocked, four days after the argument, he had discovered that there were other occupants. That Charlotte had left without a simple goodbye.

And he was devastated.

-

She would still go get coffee at the same time she did while in Paris. It had somehow become routine for her.

But it wasn't the same. Because in this little coffee shop near her apartment the coffee tasted different; they didn't make it the same way as at the bar in Hotel George V. And the tables next to the window were always occupied. And it was a lot noisier because people came here to catch up with friends and not to relax. And they didn't offer biscuits with each cup of coffee. And there wasn't a boy called Harry with curly hair and green eyes and a dimpled smile that would stare at her from across the room.

She really missed him. There was no point in missing Sebastian, if she was honest, because she didn't love him anymore. But she still felt sorry for actually cheating on him. But she missed Harry. A lot. And she regretted how she actually left him and how she couldn't keep her promise.

She missed the softness of his curls against her fingertips. She missed how his head would always find a way to snuggle into her neck and kiss it repeatedly when he wanted her to do something for him. She missed the feeling of his fingers enveloping her own and the soft squeeze of his hands on her waist.

She missed his puckered lips and the extreme dent in his upper one. She missed how his lips would always look so cherry coloured or raspberry coloured, and she would tell him how he was jealous of them and he would joke around saying he could inject a syringe in his lips and draw out a little of his pigment and insert it in hers. She missed the glow of his emerald eyes that had tiny spots where they were darker and more spots where they were lighter. She missed how, every time she spoke, he would always stare into her eyes, listening to every word that came out of her mouth, even if at the end when she asked him to repeat what she just said, he would just blink a few times and say "Wha-?" because he was too busy looking at her instead of listening because he was so entranced by her. She knew it all about him.

She missed the way his voice was all deep and rough in the mornings. She missed how, somehow, in the two nights she had slept with him, they woke up face to face with their legs tangled. She missed his warm body beside her in bed, heating her up because she was naturally cold-blooded. She missed how he would always kiss the top of her head or her forehead or the tip of her nose when he was showing affection. She really missed the feel of his lips against hers.; how they moulded perfectly and moved against each other's in sync.

She missed him. She missed him. She missed him. She missed Harry.

-

Sebastian still resided at the hotel even after Charlotte left. When he would come down for breakfast in the morning, Harry did whatever he could to not be in his sight, because he was ashamed of what he had done even if he had done it for love. Either way, Sebastian had requested a different waiter, thankfully not giving the reason why and not potentially ruining his job for him. He was a nice lad in this case, by not outing him out to his boss, but the glares that were thrown to him if they ever made any eye contact were not hidden very well.

Sometimes, he would still walk towards the podium outside the restaurant to look across the lobby and find the empty spot she used to sit in unoccupied.

He always wished that at any moment, he would approach the podium and the table would magically be occupied by a petite blonde that swirled her coffee with a small spoon, always with her pinky in the air.

He never looked lively anymore. His happy and positive persona had become dull because he fell in love. He fell in love with someone that was forbidden but he still fell in love. He fell in love and it all came to bite him in the butt.

Zayn noticed the change. He never spoke about her to him, but he always tried to keep their conversations normal so nothing would remind him of Charlotte. He would talk to Harry about his day at uni with his art colleagues and talk to him about the inspiration to his new paintings whenever he came back from work. Harry would only nod his head in response, waiting for Zayn to finish, and then retreated back to his room.

Harry always laid in bed thinking about her after he closed the door to his room. He thought about her blonde hair that swayed in the wind or whenever she walked because it was just so silky. He thought about her green or her blue or her turquoise eyes because it had been months and he still couldn't figure out what colour they were. He thought about how her small, thin fingers felt laced between his and he missed the feeling.

He missed how when she laughed, she would throw her head back and her eyes would squint and she wouldn't care about how loud she was laughing. He missed how when she found something really, really funny she would snort and try to cover it up with her hand. He missed how she would always bury her head in his chest and then complain about the lack of air because he was hugging her too hard.

He missed the sound of her voice. The sound of her voice when she spoke about a pleasant memory. The sound of her voice when she spoke about something she loved. The sound of her voice when she was feeling sleepy. The sound of her voice when she whispered to him that she loved him.

And then, whenever he thought of how she constantly told him that she loved him, he would switch the lights off and try to go to sleep because it hurt too much to stay awake and let the thoughts run through his mind.

He missed her. He missed her. He missed her. He missed Charlotte.

•••

double updating because its been a long time i think

was this too cheesy please tell me it wasn't

one more chapter and an epilogue!