Moments || H.S

fifteen ; above the traffic

(Oops,here we are again! this chapter is for mature audiences only as it contains course language and a slur as well as very controlling relationship and mild drug use, and if any of that makes you uncomfortable or upset, the next chapter is way sweeter! All the love, E&P) 

I open the front door to our flat and take off my shoes, dropping my cars keys into bowl near the door. I just had secretly spent the afternoon with Harry while Jack was with his mates. I didn't think he would be home yet, he never usually is until about 8. But tonight he was. 

We have been living together for nearly 3 weeks, and H thinks it's perfect- because I don't want to worry him. I missed his movie premiere and just told him I had a cold. I don't know if he believed me or not- I hope he did- I cried myself to sleep that night, instead of being by my best friends side. 

"Where FUCK  have you been?" Jack says, coming out from the kitchen and into the living room, scaring the life out of me. 

I don't even have a chance to think of an answer, before he looks me up and down with angry, beady eyes. "Were you fucking cheating?" He took a step forward in my direction, squeezing his fists into balls of anger. 

"NO! I promise. I was just out with some friends and I-"  

"Shut up, Avery" he says over the top of me. 

He's right. No point arguing with him when he is this aggravated. I should have asked him before I went out. He has a right to know where I am and who I am with; after all, he is my boyfriend after all and he cares about my safety, well that's what he says. I'm safe with Harry but he doesn't trust him. 

(Do not listen to Ave in this chapter, be with someone who respects you)

I take a deep breath and walk towards and into our bedroom. As usual it's a fucking mess thanks to Jack being lazy. I bend down to pick up his pile of dirty clothes and realize the framed photo of me and H on tour is gone. I look around and notice they are all gone and my heart drops through my stomach and a knot appears in my throat. What has he done? 

I start to question if it is wise to ask Jack now, or when he calms down. No, I need to know where the photo memories of me and H are. I walk carefully into the living room to where he is sitting and watching TV. 

"Uh, Jack... do you know what happened to the photos of me and Harry I had?" at the sound of H's name, he scrunches his face up and speaks bluntly.

"I took them down," he's not even looking at me. Probably still mad at me for going out. 

"Where are they?" I say, trying to control my shaking. 

"In a bag under the bed." 

I take a deep breath... I have to find out, "Why?" I ask him eventually. and he snaps. 

"All you fucking do is talk to your famous friend that I know you're using for attention and ask stupid questions." I take a step back and try to hold back my tears.

"That's not true we-" 

"Avery, enough, I don't want photos of that fag in my house... end of story." 

It takes me a few seconds to process what he had said, but when it registered, I felt my knees get weaker and the knot in my throat gets tighter. Memories of me and Harry meeting flash through my head, we met before his fame 7 years ago, but there is no point explaining it. 

I turn away from him and go into the bath room and run a hot bath. I sit in there for a while, his cruel words racing around my head and burning my brain. I pull my legs up to my chest and put my head on my knees and quietly sob. I'm so sorry, H.