The Fence || h. s.

Cherry's Letter #3

I'm sure you'd love it if I skimmed over the days that preceded your return to Malibu. Hate to break it to you, but that's kind of the point of these letters. Moving on. Accepting. Unpacking all the unwanted feelings until we're both ready to let them go. So forgive me, but you'll have to bear with me for just a while longer… Especially since we're already so close to the finish line. 

Yes, I know that this isn't easy, not for anyone involved. The thing about guilt is that it invades your thoughts until there's nothing but pain left. And Harry, please trust me when I say that despite my initial reaction, I've always felt in my heart that you never meant to hurt me. You're not the type to purposefully stab someone in the back. You were just… lost. A torn little boy, stuck between the past and the present.

But, the fact still remains—you did hurt me, deeply. And as much as I wanted to bury those feelings and pretend like nothing serious had happened, I couldn't. Once trust is broken, it's nearly impossible to get it back. All of a sudden, our whole relationship turned into a lie. A beautiful mirage of honeyed words and empty promises, stained by her looming presence in the dark.

Since we're being so open, you should know that getting over you was the hardest thing I've had to do in my entire life. I'm not sure whether you'll ever fully vacate my heart. I fear that you might always be there, pounding on the door and trying to weasel your way in. 

I'm terrified, Harry. So damn scared that I won't be strong enough to resist you, now that you're back… 

But, those few months spent apart from each other made me understand why I need to fully reclaim myself again. Being yours felt heavenly, but now, I need to go back to being mine again. Whenever I think of us, I no longer see happiness. There are no stolen kisses in the kitchen, passionate nights in Japan, or even your hand holding mine through that cursed fence. 

No, now the only image I see is her in my driveway, eyes wide with shock and disbelief that you had somehow managed to fool us both.

And that? That was just the beginning. There are no words to describe the way I felt after she'd dropped the bomb on me. The amount of contrasting emotions I experienced that day—and the ones that followed—messed me up to the point of no return. I went from denial, through pain and anger, all the way to hitting the bleak low of depression. You being silent throughout it all did nothing to fix my shattered self-esteem. If anything, it was a nail in the coffin for us.

If only you had talked to me… Maybe it all would have ended differently had I heard the truth directly from your mouth, instead of being forced to uncover it on my own. But, what's done is done. Let's drop the animosity for a second, shall we?

So, here we are, months later. You just dropped your new single—congratulations, by the way. That was a nice touch with the whole orgy thing in the music video. You horny little freak. I admit it made me smile. Okay, maybe more than just a smile. I may have let out a teeny-weeny laugh. I couldn't help it, alright?

(You should know that Styles Junior loves that song too. He won't stop meowing whenever it comes on. Yeah, it's the cat named after you. Somehow I was tricked into taking care of him—go figure. You missed his birth, and Georgie still won't shut up about it. Come visit her whenever you can, okay? She could really use it, especially after everything she's gone through recently.)

Anyway, I'm sure the new album will be amazing. And don't worry, I can handle a break-up song or two. Drag me to the ground with all you have; I don't care. Hopefully, that voicemail I let you use won't go to waste. My voice is way too hot to sit in one of your unreleased songs, you bastard.

As for me? Well, I'm sure you're eager to know what I've been up to these last few months. You must have at least an idea, since we do talk sometimes, right? Well, it's more like awkward texting and painful drunk-calling, but it's still something. Plus, it's hard not to know what I'm doing when my face may as well pop out of every refrigerator in the country with all the promo Jeff has been pushing. 

I guess this is what I've been aiming for… An official, explosive comeback of everyone's beloved Miss Doherty. 

Then why the hell do I still feel like I'm drowning?

Fuck. I don't even know what I'm doing. I'm writing letters that no one will ever read. This is truly me hitting a new kind of low.

Still heartbreakingly yours,

__________

Hi. That was painful to write. Any hints that you picked up in there? Remember that she's writing the letters in the future.

Chapter 41 should be up sometime this weekend, I'm working on it!

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