the last time

part twenty three

January 17th

Aurora

He dropped my hand. Once the paps were out of sight, he dropped my fucking hand. It's not a big deal, at least it shouldn't be, but it hurts. After our argument about moving to LA a few days ago, Harry and I haven't talked. He dropped my off at my door and mumbled something about having some work to do. I didn't fight him on it, just let him leave.

I stare at the empty space next to me in my bed and my chest hurts. He should be sleeping next to me, making up for the time we lost and the little time we have left. Our kiss in the car that day was void of any of our usual spark. Just full of anger and the need to be right. I feel tears starting to prick my eyes and I blink them away. I grab my phone to check for any new messages and feel my heart plummet seeing my messages left on read.

Jan 14
A: Can we talk about tonight?                                                           10:34pm

A:H? Are we okay?                                                                                        11:46pm

A: Hope you're okay. Text me when you can.                                1:47am

Jan 15
A: Are you ignoring me?                                                                           12:22 pm

A: Real fucking mature.                                                                            9:55pm

Jan 16
A: Seriously? Can you just text me back?                                       5:34 pm

Jan 17
A: Harry. Please. Just text me back. We need to talk.           6:36 am

The sound of rapid knocks at my door sends me flying out of bed. My heart beats rapidly thinking of it's Harry. He and I never go this long without talking and I feel instantly better at the thought of him at my door. Once I swing the door open, my chest caves.

It's not Harry. It's Ryan.

I feel my tears coming back and I blink rapidly. His smile is bright but falls when he sees my state. It's currently one in the afternoon and I haven't brushed my teeth or hair. I'm in a t-shirt Harry left here and i know I look a mess.

"Sorry, is this a bad time?" He asks, his eyes scanning me from head to toe in an odd fatherly way. He looks past me into my apartment as if he's searching for someone then his eyes land back on me.

"No." I say, my voice hoarse from the lack of usage. I clear my throat and self-consciously run my hands through my hair to tame it. "Sorry, come in."

He hesitates but he comes in. As I shut the door behind him, I pause. Slowly I turn to face him as he scans my tiny apartment. No judgement in his features, just curiosity. They land on me again and he assess me.

I tilt my head and he mimics me, a small smile playing on his lips. "How did you know where I live?"

"Harry was kind enough to send me your address." He says, looking down my hallway where my bedroom is. "Is he here?"

My heart aches at the simple mention of Harry's name. I have to call him. We're ignoring each other for such a stupid thing. I just couldn't help but feel hurt by his words. It's like my life here in New York didn't matter as long as I was following him to LA. I love him, I do but I worked so hard to be in this city.