FINE LINE | HARRY STYLES

EIGHTEEN.

DECEMBER, 2017.

I wish I had died that night.

Because I'd rather be dead than feel this fucking heartbreak right now.

I felt empty. Like my heart had been ripped out and tossed away.

I miss him.

He fucking broke my heart and I miss him.

I haven't left my bed. I don't want to. It smells like him. Smells like the times we had.

I'm pretty sure he's back in LA. His last show was last night. He looks miserable up there. But he's great at hiding it.

I think he fired Fiona. He no longer followed her on Instagram and neither did the crew. That kind of made me feel better. He could've kept her around. Used her for sex to get rid of the thought of me.

But he'd rather be lonely than be empty.

I miss his voice.

I miss how he'd lie next to me all day and just rub my back. Run his fingers through my hair. Kiss me.

I should've stayed. Maybe I could get over it. As long as I'm with him.

I keep his photo beside my bed. The same one he gave me when he left for tour. I don't want to part with it.

I wonder if he's been doing the same. If he's been in bed too upset to move. Or if he's writing music to forget everything.

I wonder if he still has my polaroid. If he stares at it like I stare at his.

Fans noticed. They were beginning to think the worst. There were articles.

Inside sources were saying it was "ugly" and both sides are "heartbroken." But it was "for the best."

Idiots.

They don't know shit. They don't know us. They never will.

I look over to Blue who's sleeping beside me. I reach over and pet her gently with a large frown.

"I'm sorry I left you for so long. I was an idiot." I murmur, scratching behind her ears.

She rubs her head against my hand, purring lowly. Tears begin to flow down my cheeks the more I stare at her.

"I got you something."

I sit up, setting my eyes on Harry with his hands behind his back. I raise a brow and shut the magazine in my hands.

"Why're you smiling like that, boy?" I smirk standing up.

"Because I know how much you've wanted this."

"You're proposing?" I joke.

"Not yet." He chuckles, so sweetly. His eyes widen, "I didn't think this through."

"You have to hold it with both hands, don't you?"

He nods sheepishly and I laugh, going behind him and grabbing the box he has in both hands. He watches as I make my way to the couch and open the flaps.