Sweetener || HS AU (COMPLETED)

🍭 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕪-𝕠𝕟𝕖 🍭

short chapter, filler chapter, whatever.
i hope this chapter makes sense and it isn't like... all over the place. but I feel like this was crucial for the next chapter because I think everyone's gonna be like "???" but yeah okay. enjoy :)!

Jailen

I held my breath, hoping, praying that he would laugh in my face. I wanted this to be some kind of sick joke. I wanted him to finish getting off and tell me that it was just in the heat of the moment.

"What?" I whispered, shaking my head.

"Jai, ma chérie," He pleaded as I pushed at his chest.

I winced as he slid out of me and I stood to my feet. My knees were weak as I searched for my shorts. I found them by the foot of one of the office chairs and I was quick to grab them and slide them up my legs. He watched my movements carefully as he tucked himself back into his pants.

"Don't say that," I mumbled, my heartbeat racing as I felt tears well in my eyes, "You can't say that. The contract-"

"There isn't a damn contract anymore, Jailen. You saw that, you saw what I did with it." He said, keeping his voice level even despite the fact that he was clearly panicking on the inside.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, pathetically, a tear rolling down my cheek when I blinked. I didn't want him to answer that and he knew I didn't, which is why he refused to speak.

There was a small space between us and I was determined to keep it that way when I took another step back when he shifted as if he was going to move toward me. I looked over at the fireplace. The papers were long burned, nothing but ashes as the fire continued to destroy any evidence of this arrangement.

When I looked back at Harry, he swallowed harshly, his breathing heavy as he parted his lips to speak, "I don't... Jailen, I don't know why I said that. From the moment I saw you, I felt this annoying fucking pain right here," he brought his hand up to the middle of his chest, "And when I was away from you last week, I couldn't fucking stand it."

I shook my head again, "Harry, don't say that, please."

"Why not?" He asked, his tone demanding as his hands shook at his sides.

"Because it's not true," I mumbled, feeling just as pathetic as I sounded as my eyes burned with tears.

Harry frowned, "You don't say that. It is true, Jailen. Have I ever lied to you? Why the fuck would I lie about loving you?" He took a step forward and before I could move back, he grabbed my arms to keep me in place.

I screw my eyes shut and turned my head away from him. I couldn't look at him. I was afraid that if I did, it would confirm everything I think I already knew was true.

"Jailen, please," Harry pleaded, the desperation in his voice making me crumble slowly, "I need you to believe me. I love you. I wouldn't lie to you about this. Not a day goes by when my heart doesn't hurt when I think about you. I fucking hate it. It's not supposed to be like this."

"So stop." I begged, prying my eyes open and hoping this would make it easier on me, "Stop loving me. If it hurts you so much, Harry, just stop. I can leave and we can go about our lives as if we never knew each other-"

"Stop loving you?" He chuckled in disbelief, "Are you stupid? Do you really think it's that easy? Don't you think I fucking tried?" He raised his voice and I close my eyes, his fingers digging into my arms. He shook me gently, "Look at me, sweetie," I did. I opened my teary eyes and stared at him, "Baby, I tried so hard to stop loving you. If I told you the number of people I've tried to fuck to get rid of this feeling, you'd hate me."

That confession alone made my chest hurt. I figured he was, though. And he was allowed to because that's exactly what the contract stated. I've read over it multiple times, I knew it like the back of my hand, so it shouldn't have been surprising that he was out sleeping around. Or at least trying to.

But it was surprising that it was hurting me the way it was. Maybe I did love him too. Maybe just a little bit. And I didn't like it. The frown on my face had seemed to become permanent the longer I stared at him, "You're not supposed to love me."

"I know that, baby," Harry's hands slid up my arms and cupped my face, "But you... you've fucked me up. I want you so...fucking...badly... and it pisses me off that I can't have you the way I need you."

He pressed his lips to mine but I didn't kiss him back. I couldn't. I was overwhelmed. And it was all for nothing. He said it himself; he can't have me. So this little confession session was pointless.

I sobbed. Because he looked so sad. Because I wanted so badly to want him, to love him openly like he needed me to. Because I wanted him to love me openly like I needed him to.

Because we, as a whole, were pathetic.

Crying in the arms of a man who just admitted to practically cheating on me, a man who seems to be incapable of allowing himself to love someone, a man who I loved... privately.

I knew nothing about Harry other than the fact that he was rich.

Wait, no... I knew his middle name, I knew his age. I knew his mom, dad, and sister. I knew that he liked using vanilla-scented shampoo. I knew he liked Hotwheels and my cooking. And cuddling. He liked cuddling at night. Harry liked driving and reading. But he liked watching tv more than reading. He liked working out, running specifically. He liked my pajamas and my apartment because, and I quote, those things smelled like me.

He hated cartoons. He hated broccoli and only ate it when I mixed it in with rice. He hated traffic and lavender scents. And he hated when the room was too cold, which is why he kept the house at 65 degrees year-round. He hated itchy blankets and polyester. He hated country music. He hated when I used his brush to brush my hair, which was understandable because of the gel...

I knew about Harry. But I didn't know Harry.

I didn't know what he was like in grammar, middle, or high school. I didn't know his favorite things to do with his mom. I didn't know which part of his body aches the most after a long day, if he had a favorite stuffed animal growing up, or any pets at all when he was growing up. I never saw him on his happiest days. I never saw him interact with his family in a way that makes you forget every bad thing they've ever done to you. I never saw his birthmark.

So, no. I couldn't love Harry because I didn't know him. And he couldn't love me. But we did. With every nerve in our pathetic bodies, we loved someone we didn't know, someone we couldn't have because we simply weren't supposed to... whatever the hell that meant.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to say those words back to him, so I kissed him back, fully aware that he knew that I couldn't say those words to him. The way his lips barely brushed over mine proved that it hurt him not to hear it just as much as it hurt me not to say it.

I wanted to - as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his body harder against mine, as I stood on my tippy-toes to deepen the kiss, as I opened my mouth wider to welcome his tongue, as his arm snaked around my waist and squeezed me so tightly, my breathing got caught in my chest - I repeated it in my head.

I love you too, Harry.