Gypsy
One year later
“ Hello?”
“ Gypsy.”
His voice. Slurred, pained. The way it had been for months now.
“ Harry.”
“ I’m sorry, Gypsy.”
“ You’re drunk, Harry.”
He always was lately.
“ It isn’t helping. I can’t forget anymore.”
“ Go home, Harry.”
“ I can’t. You won’t let me.”
The lump in my throat was growing, as I remembered, all those times when I begged him to come home, until I just, stopped.
“ This isn’t home for you anymore.”
“ You are though.”
God, did I wish he meant that sober. But he only said that when he was drunk, and then he’d wake up, sober with a hangover, and flee the bed, and I wouldn’t see him until he was drunk again.
“ No, Harry. I’m not.”
“ I want to sleep, Gypsy. I’m so tired.”
His voice faltered, and I knew he was about to cry. I really wanted to hang up before then. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“ Go home, Harry.”
“ It’s always so loud in my head when I try to sleep. I- the explosion. The gunshots. Your crying. Zayn’s screaming. It’s so, so loud.”
The memories I desperately buried deep into my soul, were beginning to resurface, and I couldn’t mend myself, let alone, him.
“ I’m not doing this, Harry. Not anymore.”
“ Do you hate me? You- you should hate me.”
“ Harry, just- stop. Please.”
The plea in my voice would have been unmistakable to the old Harry. My Harry. But this one, never listened.
“ I tried, you know. I tried to save you, to get you back whole, but, I didn’t stand a chance.”
“ I’m going to hang up now, Harry.”
“ Right. Yeah. Sorry. I’m sorry. So, sorry.”
I knew he wasn’t talking about his drunken, midnight, call. Not at all. He was talking about everything leading to that, everything he carried as a weight on his chest, allowing it to take him down.
“ Yeah. Bye, Harry.”
“ Bye.”
And I laid in bed, trying to block out his unfamiliar voice, as it continued to echo in my head, draining me of every last drop of composure I had within me. And I knew I’d get another similar phone call, if not tomorrow, then the day after, and it’d break me all over again.
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Ravaged // h.s. au
FanfictionHe couldn't hear past that explosion, so he couldn't hear her reassurances that she still loved him. He couldn't see past that fire and blood, so he couldn't see her, touching him, holding him. He had lost himself, so he couldn't possibly find her...
