Rough [H.S.]

eleven.

If I could fly
I'd be coming right back home to you
Song: If I Could Fly by One Direction

It was 1 o'clock in the afternoon. I had been sitting cross-legged on my bed staring at my phone and the small padded mailer in front of me for almost 30 minutes, attempting to build up the courage to read all the correspondence from Harry.

I was absolutely scared shitless.

I was scared that the messages would contain apologies and pleas to contact him. I was scared that maybe they didn't contain those things. I was scared to hear his voice again on the voicemails. I was scared to tear into that package and see what it held.

But mostly I was scared that I had missed my opportunity to rectify this situation and I had lost him forever.

Steeling myself with a deep breath, I picked up my phone and opened my messages app. I figured texts would be the easiest place to start and then I could work my way up to the letter or note that I assumed the package contained.

Finding Harry's name, I clicked on it before scrolling to the very bottom and opening Harry's first message to me.

Sat, Aug 29, 11:12 pm
I just landed in London. Fuck, I think I made a mistake, V

My heart was already racing. Suddenly, I wasn't sure I was strong enough to do this. Taking another deep breath, I opened the next message.

Sat, Aug 29, 11:13 pm
Fuck, Princess. I just tried calling you. Answer me, please. It's important.

Sat, Aug 29, 11:13 pm
I know you probably hate me but please answer. I need to talk to you.

Sat, Aug 29, 11:15 pm
For the love of god, Vienna. Answer your fucking phone!

Based on the timestamps, I knew he must have tried calling me between the texts. Scraping my original idea of reading all the texts first before moving onto the voicemails, I switched over to my phone app, finding the first missed call from that night.

I clicked on it and held the phone to my ear. My stomach lurched the second I heard his voice.

"Vienna...please answer your phone. I fucked up. I fucked up bad, baby. I need to talk to you. Please."

He sounded frantic. I hadn't heard him sound like that since the night he fell to his knees and begged me to fuck him. His voice was a pleading mixture of panic and sadness and it absolutely broke my heart.

I quickly switched back to my texts, finding the next one that came after the voicemail.

Sat, Aug 29, 11:17 pm
Fuck fuck fuck! Please, baby. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I made a mistake, you've got to answer so I can explain. Give me a chance.

The next text was time stamped 11:19. I went back to my voicemail and opened the next one.

"Jesus, V...I'm going out of my mind. You've got to answer. Please answer. Please. I know I fucked up, I shouldn't have left. I was a fucking coward. I know it's not an excuse but I need you to hear me out. Please, I'm begging you to answer. I...I need to hear your voice...Please...please tell me it's going to be okay..."

His voice cracked at the very end of the message just before the voicemail cut out. He sounded so broken. So completely broken. As broken as I felt that same day. 11 o'clock...I'm sure I was curled up in my bed, sobbing, my phone silenced as Harry's texts and calls came pouring in. I couldn't really remember, that week was a complete blur of inescapable heartache.