Harry Styles: A Collection of One Shots

Before You Go

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: angst

Author's Note: This was based on a request to write a bit about Harry based on the song Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi! This was a ton of fun for me to write, so thank you for sending it my way! Let me know what you all would like to see next from me! Take care and tpwk.

The night before Harry left for tour was meant to be a peaceful night in with his girl. They were supposed to enjoy a home-cooked meal that they prepared together and spend the rest of the evening loving on each other before Harry left for his three-month-long tour. Somewhere along the line, an argument had broken out and it escalated to the point where they were both shouting some of the nastiest and most heartbreaking things to each other that they'd regretted as soon as the words left their mouth. They said things that would take a long time to forgive each other for, and it did. Both Harry and Y/N went to bed without saying "I love you," something that they swore a thousand times to never do.

In the morning, she didn't even bother telling him goodbye. Harry was made to see himself out on his own while she refused to even acknowledge his presence at their bedroom door when he was telling her he had to leave for the airport. His heart never truly stopped hurting. He texted her every once in a while just to let her know he had made it to whichever city he was headed to. She always opened them immediately, so he knew she was at least eager to hear of his safe travels. Each night, at exactly 10pm London time where their shared home was, she'd receive a call from Harry. He wanted to talk to her, but she never answered. Harry figured out after the fourth or fifth call that he'd inevitably end up talking to a voicemail machine instead of his lover (if that's what she even considered herself to be anymore), but he did it anyway. Every nightly voicemail consisted of Harry telling Y/N about his day and about how he was sorry for the things that he said that night and how he wished she'd at least pick up the phone so he could hear her voice. She never did. And that broke Harry even more.

From her end, she'd spent the first few weeks without Harry wallowing in her own sorrows. No one saw her aside from her closest friend who had to force her out of bed and make her take a shower and eat a real meal that wasn't popcorn and an entire bottle of wine. It felt like a breakup, but she knew it wasn't. At least she hoped it wasn't. It was clear from Harry's nightly voicemails that he still cared about her and wanted to sort through all that was said the night before he left, but she just couldn't find it in herself to pick up the phone.

She was embarrassed. The things that happened that night were things she wished she could bury and never think about for the rest of her life, but they haunted her every time she saw his name a contact photo illuminate her phone screen. Harry didn't deserve someone who shouted at him the things that she shouted, and he certainly didn't deserve someone that couldn't even pick up the phone when he called to apologize and say goodnight.

More time passed. Y/N had slowly started to communicate more with Harry. Sure, it was only once every few days to let him know that she was at least doing alright, but this something was better than nothing. He still called every night and she still hadn't found the courage to answer. It wasn't until one particularly rough night that Harry was finally able to hear his girl's voice after all of this time that he'd been touring the world without her.

She had had a little spa day for herself at home, treating herself to one of the expensive face masks that Harry had bought her for Valentine's Day whilst soaking in a tub filled with her favorite bath fizzy. After letting her skin turn wrinkly and the water go lukewarm, she hopped out and reached for her favorite body butter. She worked it into her sore muscles, giving herself her own massage of some sort. When she reached the aching heel of her foot, she paused. There, faded but still visible, was the smiley face tattoo that Harry had given her when they had gotten tipsy one night during a vacation in Mexico. Harry had a matching one on the bottom of his big toe (she had drunkenly insisted that they both give each other tattoos so they looked like a proper couple). The happy memory resonated deep in her belly and made her feel sick. How could she have let their relationship come to this? How could she have just let him quite literally walk out on her without talking through their fight?