Two heart's in one home | H.S. | AU

chapter 27

Love is a stain. It penetrates the surface, setting so deep any attempt to strip or wash it away is futile. Its presence will fade over time, but you'll always have a mark tarnishing something that was once pristine. Something that is now forever flawed. And at the end of the day, that mark will simply be evidence leftover from what was but no longer is.

Harry Styles is also a stain. The morning after he leaves, I frantically cleanse every trace of him from my apartment. If he doesn't want to be here, I no longer need him infecting the space we shared together. I Clorox my countertops, polish every surface, bleach the bathroom, disinfect the floors, and wash my sheets. I just need him gone, along with the feelings I have for him. Somehow in my mind the two correlate.

However, I freeze when I reach for the pillow on his side of the couch—the one I used before he swept in and claimed it as his own. With the Febreeze bottle loaded in my hand, I stare at the inanimate object, willing myself to rid this last piece of him from my apartment.

It doesn't happen.

I drop the Febreeze onto the coffee table and crush the pillow against my chest. With my nose dipped into the fabric, I breathe Harry back into my lungs, wishing I hadn't gutted him from the space. Wishing he hadn't left and gutted me.

*****

Alice storms into my apartment some time later, slamming the door behind her. "Something is up with you. I mean, me considering a relationship is a huge deal. You should be as excited for me as I am about yours. But you're not responding to my texts, you're not returning my calls, and..."

Her scowl drops and her eyes widen in distress as she notices my position. I'm pathetic, clinging to a pillow that's now saturated by my own tears. It doesn't interfere with Harry's scent. He still lingers, even if a part of me doesn't want him to.

"What's wrong?"

I want to respond, even open my mouth to start, but the words crumble in my throat. Nothing about me is solid anymore. Every piece is shattered.

"Iris, talk to me." She rushes to the couch, pulling me into her side. The pillow I refuse to release smashes between us. "Please. You're worrying me."

I'm worrying myself. Because this girl falling apart doesn't feel like me. It feels like someone who's broken. But my strength is dismal, used on the tears that have wracked my body all day. There's nothing left for me to offer up.

She shakes me, mimicking the quakes continuing to pierce my limbs. "I'm not kidding. You're scaring the hell out of me right now." Her hands find my face, pulling the clumped hair from my dampened cheeks. "Where's Harry?"

His name sends a puncture through my chest, rocketing through my gut. It finally escapes through my burning eyes. "Gone," is all I manage to say.

"What? Why?"

Her face is right in front of mine, witnessing every agonizing second of my breakdown. I'm raw before her and there's simply nothing left to hide. There's no point anyway. Harry's secrets may be his, but he's no longer here to claim them.

So I slowly unload everything.

I tell her all about Harry; what he's done, who he's done it for, and why. I tell her about Zayn; the man he is, what his endgame was in all this, and his threats. Then, because I'm on a roll, I tell her about what happened in Lancerfield; what's happened in the past with my mother, what Harry did to Logan, and how it ended with him back in Zayn's clutches.

When I finish, I feel a multitude of emotions. I'm decimated by my grief. I'm enraged with anger. I'm terrified by what my best friend must be feeling over the news regarding Zayn. But lining all three is the relief of no longer lying to her.