Saving the Hero (a One Direction fanfic)

Distance

***Harry’s point of view***

Sunlight creeps through the cracks of my heavy, dark blue drapes and lands on my face, making me wince and turn over, groaning. I will myself to go back to sleep but it was useless, I was already awake. I hated being a light sleeper.

I groan again, reaching out for my phone on the bedside table and turn the screen on, tugging the earphones out of my ears and stop the constant playing of Kings of Leon. It was 2:07pm. Well, I’ve clearly had enough sleep. So I turn around and sit up on my bed, letting my back rest on the headboard and the sheet to fall off my bare chest. In routine, I open up twitter and just randomly scroll through my timeline and notice people tweeting pictures and all that of Erin and Niall. I opened one then immediately close it, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest at the sight of her with someone else. 

It’s been 11 days.

11 days of typing up a long message to send to Erin but ended up being deleted, 11 days of making up a whole explanation in my head but ended up not being said at all. 11 days of thinking, wanting for her to be with me. But I couldn’t have it that way. And the fact that she and Niall were spending so much time with each other killed me. Sure Lou Teasdale would be there sometimes or Liam and Danielle but seriously, it was nearly every day that they would go out and it killed me. 

I haven’t heard from the strange girl since then either. I didn’t even ask my mum or Gemma about the girl. I wanted the past to stay in the past. I didn’t want to reach out to it at all.

Just then my phone starts to ring and I look at the caller I.D., Blair.

Hesitantly I take the call.

“Harry?” she says.

“What do you want?” I say on the edge of a growl.

“I just want to let you know I’m letting you go,” she tells me, her voice soft and I raise an eyebrow.

“Well I hope you aren’t expecting a thank you,” I reply to the twat and I hear her laugh.

“No, no. I got what I wanted. That night was great,” she purrs and I hear the smirk in her voice as my jaw clenches. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody.”

“You better not because what I said that day aren’t simple, empty words,” I reply then hang up, having the urge to throw my phone at the wall.

With a heavy sigh, I stand up from bed and pull open my closet, peeling off the only boxers I wore and threw it into the laundry pile. I grab a new set of boxers and put them on along with my denim jeans, a simple black shirt and socks. I take my watch out from its case and fasten it around my wrist and sling my long necklaces around my neck, the paper airplane falling just below my collarbones. I put on my grey shoes and grab my shades and phone before heading out of my room and make my way downstairs.

Oddly, I haven’t bothered to go through my things during my stay. I didn’t bother going through my drawers or rummage through my notebooks or boxes. I left them untouched save for a few books that I read. It was as simple as not wanting to trigger any of my memories. It was strange. I loved staying home because I needed the sense of familiarity but I was afraid that if I went through my things, I would find something that would give me clues as to what that girl meant the other day. Or she was just delusional. I learned to settle on that.

When I was just about to enter the kitchen I hear my mom speak up, talking to someone on the phone and I stop in my tracks.

“Hi Zayn,” I hear her say and I take a cautious step back, away from the entry way of the kitchen to remain unnoticed by my mum.