Perspective

Chapter Fifty Eight.

"Stand up little girl

A broken heart can't be that bad
When it's through, it's through
Fate will twist the both of you
So come on baby, come on over
Let me be the one to show you

I'm the one who wants to be with you"

****

Have you ever started a diet, and it goes really well for a day or two - maybe even a couple weeks and then there's that one bit of delicious forbidden food.... That edible Achilles heel.

It inevitably blows any willpower you had to smithereens, like a grenade thrown inside a locked room and you're totally fucked?

For me, that food used to be hot chips or cookies and cream ice cream, well, when I could still be bothered to care about food.

Now it's Harry.

For fuck sake I was doing so well!

I mean, I was in excruciating suffering and felt like my heart was dying inside my chest but I was standing my ground. I had cut him off. I was abstaining .

I was sober.

And then he just turns up with those stupid green eyes and that bullshit fucking dimple, with his annoyingly perfect mess of hair and that dumb serene fucking face of his - leaving me completely strung out again.

Then he is hauled up on my doorstep like some insufferable drunk baby panda that I wanted so badly to be angry at and hate but, who the fuck hates baby pandas!

God then he's crawling into my bed and pouring out all the words I would've begged him to say weeks before while I laid there hating myself for wanting to believe them.

I caved faster than a wet piece of paper trying to hold up a bowling ball the second I heard him begging me not to hate him, listening to his voice crack with crying he was trying to hide.

Fuck I am such an idiot.

I've done this every time. People I care about hurt me and the second I see them upset I fold.

Their hurt, hurts me worse than my own.

It's also my biggest problem. I can't hate him. God help me I have tried.

I can't hate how good it felt when even though I knew it shouldn't have, I let myself lay there with him, completely surrounded by the warmth and smell that I'd missed so desperately. The fact I didn't pull away or ask him to leave and we ended up falling asleep together.

I wish I hated how it felt when I woke up, with Harry curled up against my back; his arm clung tight around my waist as if I were going to run away in my sleep. I would've given anything to cling onto that feeling, but I couldn't.

Because soon the hurt came crashing back in and I remembered why I had been mourning that feeling with him for weeks.

I don't think I've ever fully comprehended the term bittersweet more in my life.

Once he had woken up after I'd pried myself free before I literally peed myself, so I could use the bathroom - everything went back to feeling awkward and painful.

Everything from the way neither of us knew what to say to each other when I came out of the bathroom, to the staring Harry failed miserably at hiding while we brushed our teeth.

I had noticed he put his toothbrush back in the holder with mine as well.

There weren't many words spoken aside from me offering to drive him home, and you could see by his expression and small glances as he got his things together he was dying to say something but seemed stuck on words.