Secret Identity (Haylor)

Chapter 21: Months

Chapter 21: Months.

Harry's POV

Months. Why does it always have to be that word? Can it get any worse?

As a matter of fact, there's the word 'year', that's far worse than months.

It's not summer, definitely, it's winter- nearly winter.

I sit in my flat, aware that it is only seven in the morning. A man can wake up when he wishes, right?

The busy life of New York still electrifies my half awake soul as I look outside the penthouse.

I sigh, plucking some strings on the guitar that's been with me all morning.

"Are you sleeping, baby by yourself?" I softly sing in a near whisper.

"Or are you giving it to someone else?" I say, more expressively that it should sound.

I skip some words, wanting to reach the part I'd like to express.

"Where do broken hearts go?"

The question I sing to myself, knowing that I won't be receiving even a little answer sooner.

"Broken hearts go to your best friend, Harry." I say to myself, making myself sound stupid.

"And broken hearts have children inside of them, because apparently, she gave it to someone else months ago." I say to myself once more.

After I admitted everything, she just made me leave. That simple.

A month later, she figured out she's pregnant with Ed. That was in August. What I did on that time? Let's say I could've went to a couple of bars.

I stand up to position my guitar in its stand, and sat right on my seat again, staring at the window.

The whole world knew what game I was playing to get Taylor back, and now I'm just an official disgrace to the band, none of them have been talking to me after the tour.

Except Louis, we reconnected and are still best friends, nothing further because we've always remained that way.

He's incredibly happy with El, which was unexpected since Eleanor expected rejection.

I'm really excited with their son, they even made me his god father-and that's a great honor to have that connection with Timothy Skilwich Tomlinson.

Skilwich was a second name created when El had been craving for sandwiches for awhile now, and Louis always made her his bet sandwiches and tea... and yes, that's a skill.

What was in it for Uncle Harry?

Jealousy.

Everyone had love lives, even Niall who's flirting with some girl named Ashley.

While I was just forced to leave someone who loved me back, since the person who loved me back was hurt because of love.

Love hurts, it's confusing, I know.

I close my eyes for five seconds, feeling the warm shower water rain to my skin.

It just seems like everything's about to end, and everything's just dull yet sober.

Sober is either a good feeling or bad.

Being sober means forgetting everything and to feel refreshed from the trouble you got into.

Also, it means missing the tension and adrenaline you once had, but now it's all gone.

That's how I feel. I don't feel okay. I feel too ill to even care what happens to me, whether I die or go to jail.

I get out of my building, wearing my usual white shirt and skinny jeans, and my worn out boots of course.

Everyone was staring at me as if I were not from this planet. I walk down the pavement casually, trying to avoid their looks.

Paparazzi surrounds me as usual, bursting out irrational questions into forms of screams.

Screams. Taylor screamed that night.

"I wish I've never even fell in love with you!" Her voice screams in my head.

"Are you just too desperate for love, huh? Is this just some stupid hide and seek for you?!!?!!?" She cries and breaks down.

I speed up my pace, trying to run away from my own thoughts, but I can't do that, it's inside of me.

"Get out! I've never loved you!" She throws her heels at me. I remember the physical and emotional pain.

"Someday, you'll be left all alone, you won't know where. You never deserved love, neither did you deserve me." She whispers, but I could still hear with my body out of her flat.

I remember it like it was recorded in high definition inside my head, still feeling all the stabs her words did.

I find myself in the park, as I immediately sit down on a bench and broke down like no one was watching.

Everyone's eyes were on me, but nobody seemed to even care.