Love Hangover. ( A One Direction fanfiction.)

Love Hangover. ( A One Direction fanfiction.)

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WpMetadataReadContenido adultoContinúa6h 26m
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación dom, jun 30, 2013
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Fanfic
1Direction
-" I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Harry whispered as he allowed his forehead to fall and rest against mine. I didn't pull away. Instead, I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, attempting to swallow the lump in my throat with it. " Sometimes, sorry isn't enough to fix the damage," I murmured, opening my eyes again to be greeted by a pair of green orbs filled with hurt. - What will 19 year old Emelie Matthews do when she is reunited with her ex boyfriend who is now part of the worlds biggest British/Irish boy band? Will she fall for him again? No, instead she falls for his band mate Liam. Things don't run smoothly in Emelie's life, it's a bumpy ride all the way through and just when she thinks things are looking up, there is always something to bring her back down. ( A One Direction Fanfic.)
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† 𝔩𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 /ˈ𝔩ɪ𝔪ə𝔯ə𝔫𝔰/ 𝔞𝔡𝔧𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢: 𝔞 𝔣𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔣𝔦𝔵𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫; 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔬𝔟𝔰𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰, 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔶; ∴ 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 † "Then tell me," I rasp. "Tell me and I'll deal with it. I'll handle it. Just-don't shut me out." "I can't," she says again, voice breaking. "I can't tell you. I can't be with you. And I can't stand here and watch you break and know that I'm the reason." She swallows hard, her throat moving. "Please don't make me explain it. Please just... stop." I take a step toward her anyway, rain dripping from my eyelashes, my chest hollow. "I don't care if it kills me," I say, and it's not bravado; it's a man with nothing left to barter. "If that's the price, fine. At least then I get to be with you before it ends." She makes a small sound, half sob, half laugh, and it's the most human thing I've ever heard from her. "Don't say that," she whispers, almost fierce. "Don't ever say that." She holds my eyes for one last beat, lips parted like she might say something else - something that could undo all of this, something that could make the rain stop mattering. But she doesn't. Instead, she exhales, low and unsteady, and shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says again, softer now, like a confession. Then she turns. And that's it.

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