kalopsia [harry styles]

18

(Just imagine him with short hair bc in this story long hair harry doesn't exist... yet)

FALLON COLLINS

I didn't talk to Harry for a month and a half.

November had come and gone, and then December started, and I'd retracted into myself even more than before.

Not only had I lost Faith, but now Harry as well.

I mostly blamed myself–for letting him in into my life and trusting him even when in the back of my mind I knew that he would be the same as everyone else.

He'd been the first person in a while that had been able to make me open up. I'd started to care for him, and then he'd grabbed my heart and squished it until it was dust. Even though we hadn't been anything but friends, it still hurt like a bitch.

At the end of the day he'd done the same thing Faith had done. He'd left.

Nadia had been livid. I'd called her that night, sobbing and telling her what happened. She'd been with Jacob at her apartment, since it was 4AM, but she hadn't hesitated to come to my aid and she'd comforted me as I cried into her shoulder.

She kinda hated Harry and his band after that. Even though Harry hadn't been anything more than a friend, she acted like it had been the greatest friend breakup in history, and every mention of him always ended up with her scowling and telling me that his name wasn't to be brought up.

Sometimes I found it funny that she was angrier than I was, but I understood where she came from.

As November went by, I'd find myself wondering if maybe it had been me that had been in the wrong... maybe if I hadn't been such a drama queen about it then we would still be talking.

Harry had beat up Liam to protect me and what had I done? I'd gotten angry. Maybe I should have been grateful that he'd saved me, even if he'd done it with violence.

And then as December started, I realized that maybe we'd both been in the wrong. He'd been too stubborn, and I'd been too angry. He had issues, and I was no one to tell him what he should or shouldn't do, and I was my own person, and I hadn't really told him to stop his violence, just to control it while he was with me.

At the end of the day, neither of us compromised enough to keep the friendship.

I continued to go to therapy and Harry did too, but I couldn't even look at him in the eye without wanting to cry. Most of the time I would enter the building just as the meeting was starting, and I'd be the first one to leave.

Sometimes when we were mid therapy, I'd look at Harry and want nothing more than to go and hug him and tell him that I was sorry, but he always looked angry and always seemed to have a scowl on his face, so I refrained from going near him.