Harry styles imagines

16. Stitches

the way her lips felt against mine was enough for me to keep breathing.
The way her fingertips brush against my arm while we're talking makes my heart flutter.
And whenever I'm upset she cuddles me till I sleep and places light kisses on my head as she wishes me a goodnight Sleep.
She never made fun of me because of my stutter even when we're in a fight she never brings it up.
She never brings my worst traits up, she never mentions the things I've no control over.

But I?
I always fight when she does the simplest mistake.
I always brush her off when I'm in a bad mood even if she needed to talk or if she just needed a simple hug.
I cower whenever she asks me to go out with her because I know I'm not good enough for her.
And I always bring up every little bad thing that she told me, that no one besides me knows it and I still bully her for it.

I scream and fight but she always hugs me and cries in my chest and remind me of how much she loves me, but I think she was just always reminding herself so she won't slip away.

I wish I could take it back, everything I said.
I shouldn't have said it, I know it hurts her to talk about her mother but I did and I said that her mother left her because she's a nagging bitch that she never loved. I know that sounds so cruel and so not me, but I was angry! So angry and I don't even remember why I was angry, it was so fucking stupid. I wish I could turn back time and slap myself across the face just to wake me up but it will never happen and I don't know how I'm going to keep going if she not by my side.

Because I need her kisses, I need her loving touches, I need her voice, I need her. Y/n she's all I need..

I closed my journal as I stared at the ceiling, the one we painted together.

Flashback

"Harryyyyy!! C'mere I can't take it anymore my arms are aching, come ooon!!" I heard her voice from across the hall as I rushed to get the white and yellow paint and the thin brushes.

"Remind m-me why I'm not the one painting again?" I said as I handed her the paint and the brushes.

"Not because you're an artist doesn't mean regular people can't draw so let me I wanna be a part of this too" she pouted as she looked down at me sitting on the ladder that she was standing on.

"But love, you know I don't wanna make you t-tired and I can do it so much faster"

"Please? You did the walls and I want to do something useful too! All I did was hand you paint and brushes and watch and to be honest that was a bless but still! I want to be a part of this because this is our house Harry, our" I sighed as I nodded and she squealed happily it made me chuckle as she began painting the wall with dark blue paint and dotting it with small stars.

I stood up, going to the kitchen, to get some water, I felt like dying because everything remained me of her.

Flashback

"So is it water or wotcha" she said mimicking my British accent, from her seat on the kitchen chair with her legs crossed over each other with her skirt that had slits on the sides that showed her gorgeous thighs.