FINE LINE | HARRY STYLES

TWENTY-SEVEN.

APRIL, 2019. CONT.

I never told Blair about Harry and I. I didn't want to. I know she'd only yell at me about how she told me so. I just didn't want to hear it this time.

I ignored his calls and texts. I'm actually done. I realized I'm better than that. Than to crawl back to someone who hurt me and can't even admit it or let alone apologize for it.

But it's getting harder to let him go.

The last time we slept together felt different. It felt special. Like it was more than just sex. He looked at me the way he used to before he would tell me how much he loved me. With those soft, gentle eyes that just said it all.

He didn't look away the whole time either. Like he wanted to see my expressions because he knew he was the reason why. It felt like I was special. Like I was important. Like I mattered.

The Met Gala was getting closer and frankly, I felt awful. I didn't even want to go anymore. I don't know if it was just me or everything. But, I just felt sick.

I want a sign. A sign to show me the way. Who I should be with or what I should be doing. I shouldn't even be asking for a sign to begin with. Not if I have River. So what's wrong with me?

Maybe I just need to be by myself.

River just figured I was sick. That was the only suitable reason for me to not get out of bed. And I just let him believe it. Because it didn't feel like a complete lie. I feel awful. I can't tell if it's guilt or not.

Blair noticed my absence. I had called in sick to work a lot this week. We only had two more weeks of filming before it's all put together. Luckily, there wasn't much left for me to film.

So, I took that advantage and stayed home.

Blair called me a lot. She's been trying to figure out what's wrong with me. But, I ignored those calls.

Mom and Dad were worried, too. I hadn't been over there in such a long time. I've begun to distance myself and they knew that.

I just didn't feel like myself.

"Want some soup?" River pokes his head into the room shyly. I can sense he's nervous to even speak to me.

"I'm not hungry." I reply quietly.

The thought of food nauseated me. I just feel so tired and heavy.

"Maybe we should go to the doctor." He enters the room, biting his lip.

"No, I can't go to the doctor." I groan.

"Come on, baby. You need to figure out what's wrong. You've been like this for two weeks now."

I don't respond. I just lie there and stare at him blankly. He sighs and crosses his arms.

I'm so glad he's in my life to be honest.

"I don't want to draw blood." I whine into the pillow.

River chuckles and sits on the edge of the bed to run his fingers through my hair.

"Maybe you won't have to."

-

So, that was a lie. They wanted to draw my blood immediately. Apparently I didn't look so good. And my symptoms were "worrisome." I tried to deny it but they didn't take no for an answer.

So, I sit in the cold room, waiting for the nurse to approach me. River sits beside me, holding my hand. I tense up the second she walks in.

She shoots me a smile and gets everything ready. I nervously grip River's hand as the needle seeps into my skin.