It's Always Been You [h.s.]

Part Two

I heard voices talking in front of my room then I recognised it was my mum's voice. And Harry's. I immediately slid myself deeper under the blanket and pretended to close my eyes. I really didn't want to see him anymore, but on the other hand I also wanted to see him right here beside my bed. I genuinely didn't understand what I was feeling right now.

Not long, my room door opened. From the sound of footsteps and the scent of Bleu De Chanel, I instantly knew who it was that made me close my eyes more tightly. I heard Harry set a chair beside my bed and sit on it. I really wanted to get up and hug him and say that I'd missed him so much, but I just couldn't. A little part of me was mad at him.

"Hey," said Harry softly.

I couldn't help myself not to answer it but my mind kept telling me not to do that. He doesn't care about you anymore. All he cares about is his popularity. He never comes to visit you anymore since he got new friends, my brain reminded. Yes, until today, my heart added. The next thing that happened was my tears started streaming down my face. I shouldn't be crying because he would know now that I was pretending to sleep, but my eyes couldn't deal with it. And the bigger part of me was actually happy to know he was here.

I felt someone wiping away my tears. I opened my eyes and saw Harry's hand on my cheek with a cheeky, alluring smile on his face. It made me blush and my tears stopped falling. Then he held my hand while he stared at me and I could see regret picture in his eyes. He didn't say anything for a moment, just holding my hand and staring at me. I didn't want him to see my flushed face, so I turned my head away.

Harry let out a sigh. "I'm sorry," he started talking. I didn't realise how much I'd missed his deep, husky voice. "I just knew you're sick again."

I glared at him. He'd just known that I was sick? How could he? At least, he shouldn't have told me so! He should've said something that would make me feel better. Didn't he know that my sick body had been lying in my bed for almost two weeks and dying for his attendance here? No, he didn't. And I wouldn't let him know. So I just turned my head again.

He held my hand tighter. "Please, please forgive me."

I still looked away from him, bawling my eyes out. I couldn't believe how much he had changed. He used to always know every time I was sick even though I didn't tell him. It was probably because we had always gone to school together by bus. But since in secondary school, he often went to school with his new friends. So I had to go to school alone.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Harry said again with the same softness in his voice. "I really am. Please forgive me."

I turned my head to face him. "So it's time for me to say 'I forgive you' after what you've done to me?" I sobbed.

He gave me a puzzled face. "What exactly have I done to you?"

I really wanted to throw his face with the glass on my bedside table. Does popularity also make him stupid or what? But I just didn't want to break his adorable face. Besides, I frankly didn't want to tell him what I thought about him. So I just turned my head again as I croaked, "Nothing."

Harry released my hand and sighed as he leaned back on the chair. "What am I supposed to do to make you forgive me?"

"You're not supposed to do anything," I mumbled. All I actually wanted right now was him to leave me alone. It was weird how until this afternoon I still had desperately wanted him to be here but when he was finally here now, I wanted him to leave. It didn't turn out to be like I had expected before to see him here. "I sent you texts saying I'm sick. Didn't you get it?" I asked through my tears.

"I didn't," he answered quickly but then his expression changed. "Oh, um... I've got new number."

I gaped at him in disbelief. "W- why didn't you tell me?"

He rubbed the back of his neck as he shot away. "I'm sorry, I forgot." He abruptly grabbed my phone on the table and shot me a repentance smile. "But I can give you my new number now."

Before he even got time to unlock my phone, I angrily took it away from him. "Don't bother to do it."

He froze with his hand held the empty air. The silence fell over the room. No one talked. I could feel his eyes on me. Suddenly, he stood up and lay down on my bed. That was what he always did when he came to visit me, we'd share the bed and he'd hug me to make me feel better. And it always worked. When he hugged me, I felt warm and safe. When he hugged me, I didn't want him to let go. When he hugged me, I wanted him to be here with me for ever and ever.

But this time, when my eyes glanced at his lips, that moment of him and that blonde girl kissing a few days ago replayed again on my mind all of a sudden. It hurts to see someone you love with all your heart kissing someone else. And when he was about to hug me, I warded his arm off.

"Your girlfriend would be breaking up with you if she saw you do this to me," I said sarcastically, tears rolling slowly down my cheeks.

He pulled his arm back and sat up. Without looking at him, I knew he was looking at me sharply. He was getting angry at me. It might be a good thing because it would probably be easier for me to stop loving him if he hated me too. I had to stop torturing myself.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, frowning.

"That should be my question for you!" I shouted. I couldn't control my emotions anymore. "Don't you know that I'm sick of you not being here anymore when I need you? You're too busy with your new friends, your popularity. You don't care about me anymore. You wouldn't even care if I died tomorrow." I sniffled. The next second, I realised what I had said and regretted them all.

"What?" He narrowed his eyes, not believing my words. "Wha- You..." He got up from my bed and walked towards the door. But before he opened it, he turned around to me.

"I hate how you said I'm too busy with my popularity," he said icily. "It's not like what you think, okay?"

"I- I'm sorry..." I hated myself for not able to hate him, no matter what happened. I knew this shouldn't be me who apologized, but I just didn't want him to hate me. Maybe I'd crossed the line.

His lips parted as if he was about to say something. But then he just shook his head as he waved his hand dismissively, turned the doorknob in anger, and slammed it close.

I looked at my room door, crying. I didn't know who had made it worse, me or him.

***

(to be continued)