Back For You (Harry Styles)

Part 42

Lucy's POV:

I'd be lying to everyone, including myself, if I said that the prospect of killing myself hadn't come to mind. That's the best escape there is, but seeing what my mother's suicide did to everyone in her life, myself especially, is what makes me so hesitant to follow through. I could never hurt Harry like that.

Struggling to hold back tears, I frantically dig through my purse to find my notebook. Once I find it I flip through the pages until I see my own handwriting on a couple pages with the title '18'. This is the song I've been working on for Harry for his birthday. It's finished, but I'm not sure I'm ready for him to hear it. Or if he even wants to hear it anymore.

I shove the notebook back in my purse and throw it forcefully at the wall, collapsing on the bed and curling into a ball, my body shaking. I just wish Harry could understand instead of being angry. I'm trying for him, I'm really trying to make him happy, but it's not enough and it never will be.

Just as my eyes start to well up with tears, two strong arms wrap around me and pull me close. I tense at first, but then relax into Harry's comforting hold.

"Harry, what a-" I start, but Harry shushes me.

"No talking," he mumbles, his voice strained. "I can't. I just...I need you."

I sigh but silently agree because I know I need him too. He calmly strokes my hair while I hide my face in the crook of his neck, soaking up his warmth. I hardly even notice as I start to drift off, Harry's breath stirring the loose hair on the top of my head as my eyelids get heavy and I escape into sleep.

-

"Lucy," Harry's voice breaks me into consciousness.

"I'm going to leave soon," he says once I open my eyes. "You don't have to come but I'd really appreciate it if you would."

His smile is small, but it's warm just like always. I nod and sit up, pushing the blankets off of my body. Of course I'll go with him. It's his birthday.

"I'll come," I say, leaning over to kiss his cheek before walking into the closet to get ready. As I'm searching for something to wear I come across the black peplum dress I wore the first time I went clubbing on my eighteenth birthday. I shove it, and all its memories, aside with disgust and pull out a simple dark red dress that will cover most of me if I wear sheer tights underneath.

After putting the outfit on I head into the bathroom and do my hair and makeup before calling to Harry that I'm ready. He emerges from the bedroom dressed all in black and looking dashing as usual. His eyes skim over my body, longing evident in their emerald color. I walk over and wrap my arms around his torso, kissing the exposed skin of his chest while his sighs get caught in my hair.

"I love you, alright?" I say, puling away and holding him at arms length. He frowns and nods, pulling me against him again.

"I love you. You know this whole thing wouldn't upset me so much unless I loved you," he says quietly, hesitant to bring up the subject again.

"I know," I admit, leaning against him and breathing in his wonderful familiar scent. The way Harry is holding me reminds me of how my mother used to hold me whenever I was hurt. Protective and loving. I haven't thought about my family this way for a while, and remembering their deaths hurt my heart. They're never coming back.

"Harry, I miss them," I sob, clinging to the fabric of his jacket and crushing myself against him. As usual, Harry knows the meaning behind my words.

"I know, baby," he says sadly, gathering me in his arms and supporting all my weight. "I miss them too. God knows they'd handle this better than I have been. I don't mean to be angry with you, I really don't. I just...I'm doing my best to help you, and as much as you want me to accept what you're doing, we both know that wouldn't be helpful."